Mr B&S Ball and Ute Muster

Rooster spends most of his year on a remote cattle station yearning for the next B&S Ball. Essentially, his social life is like Fritzl’s kid, he doesn’t get out much, and when he does, the police get involved. 

This weekend, Rooster is off to the Inseminators B&S Ute Muster – a Mecca for WA country folk who have ever considered wining and dining a bovine or lay awake pondering life’s real questions, like, what *is* a second cousin, really?

Rooster loads up his heavily countrified ute with the essentials: 3 cases of Bundie & Coke, his swag and a couple of super soakers full of food dye.

For whatever reason, the rural community is obsessed with looking like the eager participants of a rodeo clown bukkake at the end of their parties. 

He catches up with his mates who make the Collingwood cheer squad look like Colgate models. They exchange yarns and get into a friendly fist fight over who is going to win the burnout competition this year.

Rooster notices a couple of Pilbara Princesses looking his way, clearly aroused by his rough & tumble brand of mateship. 

Like a Saudi law-man, Rooster knows the whip is the best way to demonstrate his authority.

He removes his boots, strips down to his jocks, and performs the mating ritual of the musterer. His technique is flawless. 

His powerful and sensual display sets off the cattle-prod of desire in the undies of every lady watching.

After all, cracking whips gets the chicks – well that’s until the 8 cans of Bundie get the better of Rooster, and Russel Coights the shit out of his mate’s arm. Collateral damage in the pursuit of a root, mate. 

Rooster then deploys plan B: revving the shit out of his ute while leaning out the window yewing. City slickers use oysters and champagne as aphrodisiacs, whereas country folk prefers the unsubtle use of diesel fumes. 

His plan worked, a real dinkum rum pig jumps into the passenger seat. They hit it off over a pipe and instantly get down to work.

He gains quite the audience, as you know what they say, there ain’t nothing like a country crowd… watching you bang a non-blood related relative. 

Rooster then turns his mind to drinking the remaining 2 cartons of piss and waking up dustier than the top of a midgets windowsill.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?