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Mr. Perth Real Estate Agent

perth real estate agent

After listening to several hundred hours of corny self-help podcasts, old mate has decided to abandon his birth name and go by Clooney. He looks damn good in a cheap suit and he’s the star of some of the most excruciating home viewing videos directed by man.

He awakens to a pre-recorded affirmation about being the shootin’ star in his own empire-building galaxy. He sniffs the crisp morning air, smell that? Smells like commission baby, mixed with an egregious amount of Acqua di Gio and a generous application of Brylcreem.

Slicked back and rocking the finest in Studio Italia suit wear, the Cloontang is ready to head to his first viewing. A dilapidated piece of shit that he’ll convince some naive house hunter is the opportunity of a lifetime. 

After noticing a couple’s physical look at disgust at the state of the lino he swoons in like the master of spin he reckons he is, “nothing like a well lived-in home, it’s the kind of character that you can’t put a figure on”

You sure as shit can, a nice coupla couplas to replace the flooring on top of the ludicrous asking price for the shithole. It’s a seller’s market, baby. No time for a picky Goldilocks coward who can’t slop down the bowl of property porridge they are being served. 

After a busy morning of playing silly buggers and refusing to give a concrete asking price, the Cloontang decides it’s time to get to work on his latest Hollywood blockbuster for a $500,000 3 by 1 with a minor asbestos problem. 

Just because he isn’t slinging western suburbs homes now doesn’t mean he won’t be doing it one day. So every video is about building his star power. One day, all of Perth will know his name and get down on their goddamn knees before his bulging ego-member. 

On his way to the property, he notices a local rascal has seen fit to draw a moustache and a male appendage on one of his for-sale signs. He boils with the rage of a thousand armies as he gazes upon the vandalism of this graven image. 

Not to worry, he’s got the spray & wipe. This isn’t his first rodeo and he goes on several sign-graffiti runs a day. In a just universe, he’d get to slowly break the fingers of the little fuckrats but for now, he must settle for furious community FB page posts in his capacity as admin. 

Before the WAAPA kids he hired to film his Grammy-bait he heads over to his sister’s house where she’s preparing to go out day-drinking. He demands she prioritises his makeup needs. Do you think the make-up department would leave Clooney waiting? Forgetaboutit. 

After 5 hours and 50 takes, Cloontang finally has enough material for the 1-minute 30 seconds property viewing video that he will smear across the underpants of social media like it’d unwisely got into a 6-day-old curry in the back of the fridge. 

Just as he suspected, his intense manifesting of success has paid off and he receives notification a young couple has swallowed his exorbitant load and offered far more than a house is worth. Before responding he rubs one out while maintaining unwavering eye contact in the full-body mirror. He calls it Andrew-Tateabating

Sometime later, the deed has finally been done and Cloontang has one final request from the now overextended couple. He wants very, very badly to be in the SOLD sign photo. He doesn’t take no for an answer and ruins the photo with his disgustingly garish tie. 

All in a day’s work for the Cloontang. 

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