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Mr Facebook Bogan

Deano’s Facebook profile is the digital equivalent of spending your $900 Rudd bonus on a 3-day prostitute-bender in Kuta. His profile picture is a cropped, zoomed and blurry photo of himself from 10 years ago when he actually had hair but inexplicably still has the same pair of red flame-patterned sunglasses and HRT racing shirt. This is the best photo he owns of himself, and it still manages to bear a strong resemblance to Ivan Milat. His other 6 photos are equally as photographically baffling and depict him sitting around a burning 10-gallon drum or playing with a dog in a spiked collar. He attended the School of Hard Knocks and was apparently born in “Fucking, Austria”.

Unsurprisingly, Deano’s online behaviour is pretty fucked too. He has an insatiable appetite for offensive memes that he finds on Facebook pages such as Adult Jokes 18+ and Meanwhile in Australia. His comedy staples are “wrong hole”, “women in kitchen” and “Islam’s fuck goats”. When he is feeling like adding some exotic flavour to his buffet of retardation, he will tag his bogan mates in a “tag someone who” meme, that usually centres around having sex with some ghastly, crack-addled, land-dugong. When he comments on or shares one of his beloved memes, he will type the official catchphrase of the Facebook bogan, “lol”.

When Deano isn’t polluting your feed with moronic cretin-ry, he is over sharing his depressing personal problems with his own brand of monkey-typing incoherency. “yeh yh im the fuckwit rigt, if anyone speak to KAreN tell her to GIVE me my SHITBACK!! cant trstu anyone these days, fml lol”. A few of Deano’s mates comment and they appear to have a discussion in some alien language from the planet Motorplexia, “lol dog cnts be dog cunting”, “fk her mtae”, “stp takilnig shit bout my sister DEAN, if u want ur wrench back u can bloddy well pay ur child maintenance payemnets!!! lol”.

Feeling aggrieved that his own failings have once again come back to bite him in his cargo-short-wearing-arse, Deano decides to even the score with his local Hungry Jacks. He posts a photo he took of an atrociously slapped together Bacon Deluxe on their wall, “bloody hell Hungry Jacks, pull yas fngers out. Been coming to ur Spearwood restraunt for years and dnt apprecit bening traretd like this!!!! came in with me boy and u cant fkn gve a 5 year old somfn that looks like ths!!!! Blood disgrace!!!” His post clearly resonated with other Facebook bogans and within minutes Hungry Jacks was inundated with messages of support for Deano, “hope your boy got a decent feed after all that darl x”.

It’s been a long morning, and Deano has already drunk his “beer fridge” dry. He rummages through his shed and finds an old fishing tackle box filled with rusty treasures and the faint odour of a mermaid’s vagina. He takes a bloody ordinary photo of it and uploads it to the Perth Beer Economy page. “Tackle box, used, wanting 4 pack of anything 6% or 6.5%”. He sits back and waits for someone to take his unwanted crap off his hands in exchange for delicious bourbon. He is playing his cards close to his chest and doesn’t want the group members knew that he would probably accept an offer of 3 cans.

Negotiation 101 in the School of Hard Knocks.

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

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