On-site, Dane contributes less than a soft-cocked corner-jacker at a bukake. Technically, he has a dual trade: shit talking and a cringe-worthy one-upmanship that knows no bounds.

He overhears a sparky talking about a “successful” night out on the weekend. Dane wanders over and sucks in his bourbon-belly to add a little credibility to his bull-shittery,

“Yeh nah, nah, nah thats fuck all ay, I ‘member when I was working on the Mandurah line, there was this little Oriental, anyway, after 2 fuckin’ hours I was giving her the old heave-ho on smoko. In the backdoor too!”

Ah yes, the Mandurah line. You see, Dane was once the leading hand on the Mandurah rail project, and like a footy dad berating his unco child, he can’t seem to let go of his glory days.

After revolting the sparkies with his untrue conquests, he tracks down a labourer that is shovelling like a British necro after Princess Di’s funeral. He stares at the hard working boy and lights up a smoke:

“ya know, installed me own pool back in ’93. Couldn’t get the farken mini excavator in, and I said, fark that, I want to swim. So I dug the hole meself but the shovel broke ay, so i dug it with me bare hands, piece of piss tho mate”.

The exhausted lad doesn’t know how to respond. He just stares blankly at the high-vis version of Santa Clause that merely drops nuggets of shit down the chimney of hard work.

While he has got the boy’s attention he cocks his leg, rips a wet one and chucks a pineapple his way: “smoko cunt, grab us some Red Rooter ay”.

While his slave is off fetching his chow, he takes the opportunity to big note his latest tool acquisition. A Milwaukee LARGE angle grinder. Top of the line. He talks passionately about the 9 inch extension to his manhood.

It’s now 2:30 and Dane has literally done no work. He decides to help his apprentice out with a stubborn nut. “You bloody’ peanut ha ha, stand aside and pass me a wrench and the persuader would ya?” The apprentice stares blankly, “the hammer, mate, the gentle persuader, ha ha ha”.

Despite calling a hammer a persuader every single time, Dane still smugly grins like it was a mic-dropping moment at the Apollo. The boy musters up a cackle in fear Dane might tell another vulgar joke about “nudgers”.

Finally, tools down. Dane’s excited, it’s 4 pack time. He storms into the bottle-o and eye-fucks a pack of Devil’s Cut like a Thai masseuse looks at a fat-shit wearing Crocs.

After smashing the tins, he pulls into the Inglewood car park to start his monsoonal assault on the back bar, the forecast: blithering shit-showers with a 10% chance of productivity.

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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