Mr I Hate Perth

It’s Sunday morning, and the sun is shining, but all Tom can focus on is the $4.50 he paid for a coffee that tastes as bitter and burnt as a Freddy Kruger cock-uchino, he turns to this girlfriend “Perth can’t do anything right“.

Their relationship used to be as effervescent as a cool can of Sprite, but Tom’s constant Perth hating has decarbonated their love and now they just sadly swish around like the dregs of a Maccas post-mix.

Tom storms back to the car, still fuming that he had to pay $13.80 for a few hours parking. He drives through the streets of Subiaco and shoots daggers at a number of closed signs, “typical, nothing is open, welcome to the wild west, babe, backwater shit hole”.

Tom spots a green light that just turned orange and gets right up the arse of the driver in front, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, come on”. Alas, the driver stops as the light turns red.

“Useless Perth drivers, seriously”. Tom launches into an animated rant about how every single driver in Perth (save for himself) can’t drive for shit. “WA, the bloody wait awhile state, typical, typiiiiical”.

Tom has a real knack for turning a pleasant little Sunday morning into an experience that would make being a Chux cloth at a bukkake party seem pleasant.

Later in the day, Tom attends a birthday in Mount Lawley. He sits at an outside table in a state of obvious distress, “paid $13.80 for a pint and I can’t even have a smoke with it, seriously, Perth is such a hole”.

Tom continues to be a barrel of laughs while boring the table with basic Contiki travel stories. Thanks, Tom, for an impressively unoriginal critique of Perth as compared to the norms of Western Europe, we didn’t know you were a tub of yoghurt, because you are as cultured as hell.

Tom almost cracks a smile before noticing his mate trying to chat up some girls, “don’t bother, Perth girls are so up themselves, they just want some cashed-up FIFO with arm sleeves and sells rocks on the side, mate”.

After finishing his Parmi and calling for a Royal Commission on Perth food prices, he begrudgingly agrees to head into the City for a cocktail.

The group stroll past the great Perth Cactus, “This is what we call art? Looks like something Richard Gere would use to give the Gerbil more of a challenge”.

On their way to get a cocktail, Tom describes how Perth is trying to rip off the small bar scene in Melbourne. “Perth is just so try-hard, desperately wants to be like Melbourne ay”.

Oh, and Tom would know, he was instrumental in the emergence of the Melbourne small bar scene during his 2 weekenders to go and watch the Eagles play.

It takes 20 minutes to calm Tom down after the Uber estimates the journey home will be $40 with the surcharge. Nup, not on his watch, Tom refuses to get in and decides to walk home, and at this stage, his girlfriend really doesn’t give a shit. Cya Tom.

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