Mr Diner en Blanc

While Anthony thought he was dressed like P Diddy at a #whitelivesmatter function, in reality, he paid $200 in rental costs to look like a milked prostate crossed with a cocaine dealer.

He rocks up to the secret meeting point to join the rest of the Diner de Wanks who have paid $68 for the privilege of hauling all their own picnic shit around public transport until the secret location is revealed.

He asks a mate to take a photo of him, making sure it includes his tight trousers that are too short. Damn, it’s like he’s throwing a 10% off sexy sale and his ankle shake brings all the Saudis to the yard. He Instagrams it immediately:

“En route to Diner en Blanc looking dappa in this bespoke ensemble #theyarentready #chic #soperth #perthisok #classicman #lockupyourdaughters”

Looks like Anthony bespoke too soon. Perth’s warm climate has turned on him and he’s dripping like a bad cut of cheese. In fact, the atmosphere in his armpits is perfectly suited to the growth of mushrooms. Watch out, ladies.

From leaving his house to finally arriving in the City, Anthony probably has passed about 100 perfectly adequate and free picnic spots. Jokes on them though, they don’t have a 3% chance of making the Urbanlist or STM. Game, cunt, match, Anthony.

In a classic Perth move, he retrieves his overpriced Chrisco hamper that consists of items you could’ve bought for a fraction of the cost if you just used the old “brown onion” trick through the Woolies self-service checkout.

Given the warmth, all of the meats are as greasy as a neckbeard’s palms after meeting Xena at Comic-Con. To wash down the taste of exorbitant-ry, Anthony keeps buying bottles of expensive Champagne that he forgot to bring his own fucking ice for.

Not to worry, Instagram followers don’t know your bubbly is warm. He poses with his busty date whose white-clad cans are resembling turned-out coconuts:

“Don’t mind a bit of culture 😛 #champagne #picnic #dinerenblanc #fremantle #blessed #myqueen #fromwhereyoudratherbe”

As it turns out, white is unforgiving, and the majority of people who are pissed on warm champagne leave the event looking like the mural at the end of Art Attack if Neil had consumed more shrooms than a bongo drummer in Thailand.

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