Cam never wanted a life of pain & misery for his boy so he waited until he was old enough to make an informed choice to support the Dockers. Finally, the boy was old enough to make bad decisions and Saturday was going to be his boys first derby.
A month ago the Dockers’ racked up a couple of wins and the supporters were so bold to start forbidding each other from mentioning the “F word”; alas, the only F word that summed up their recent run is fucked as they reverted back to sucking arse like a tapeworm connoisseur.
Regardless, Perth had been wetter than a cotton farmer’s crop on the Murray Darling and anything can happen in Derby clashes. Sadly, the Dockers showed less guts than a vegan haggis festival and the game blew out like a prolapsed arsehole.
In a bid to spare his boy from further trauma, Cam joined the rest of the deserters at ¾ time and fled the scene. Matagraup Bridge shook with a vibe of disgust – they had become everything they hated, they had become Eagles’ supporters. In all the mayhem he hopes his son didn’t hear him threaten to bite a security guards face. Collateral damage.
Luckily, Cam has been burned more times than a narcoleptic sunbaker, so he kept the tags on his boy’s new merchandise. He’ll be returning that shit come Monday. All he wants is a better AFL supporting life for his son, it’s just kinder this way.
Cam, of course, is serving a life sentence and he is pissed. He funnels all his anger into a series of aggressive tweets ripping his team apart like 1 ply toilet paper. Social media is a horrific scene, much like the end of a praying mantis swingers party; the fans start ripping each of their beloved player’s heads off.
After lodging a 13 red can offensive against Ross Lyon, Cam decided to turn his attention to the Eagles’ fan base that was at risk of overdosing from freebasing pure schadenfreude. In a drunken and regrettable tirade, Cam plasters his Facebook with 2006 drug memes and captions with the peak of Fremantle creativity, “meth coke eagles”.
Sunday is spent simmering in a thick & confusing stew of anti-Western Australian football. He sucks back the rest of the block and decides there is only one thing left to do, he writes an email to Fremantle and demands Ross Lyon perform a little career Seppuku and fall on his sword to restore honour to his team. Literally. He gets a petition going and even ponders the best blade to use.
Monday morning arrives and Cam had moved on from anger and was in a pit of despair. His worksite is predominantly West Coast and he takes the cowards way out, he calls in sick and watches a rerun of the Eagles losing the 2005 Grand Final.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?