Daz has toured the show circuit for 20 years and is better at separating bogans from their money than a Centrelink piss-test. He runs sideshow games that are difficult but not impossible, you could win, but like meeting an F45’er without Instagram, it’s not fucking likely.
The main tool in his cunt-ility belt is the art of antagonising. He spots a large bloke on a Tinder date walk by, “come on big man, have a crack, see if you can give a girly what she wants for a change”.
Daz has thrown down the gauntlet of emasculation but the big man falls flat like a pensioner at the brothel. Daz can’t wipe the toothless grin from his face and hands him a losers toy, “don’t worry chief, she’d be used to going home with something small ay”.
The big man can do nothing but walk away as he knows the game is like a 3rd world African election: rigged and run by a man who won’t hesitate to cut you.
It’s a beautiful day for a swindle and Daz is in a real mood to squeeze these sucker lemons even tighter for that sweet dollar juice. He tightens the clamps on his games rigging and acts like even more of a condescending shithead to get more business the next day.
It’s not long until he spots a family of mouthbreathers scoffing fried food and screaming at their poorly supervised children. Jackpot. He jumps on his microphone and lures the herd over with an offer of a free game if all the kids play.
Daz makes sure the all the kids bar one wins a huge prize, but this is no act of charity. He is dividing and conquering the family. The losing kid makes it clear that he will erupt like a Bali brat-cano and spew molten tantrum all over the day.
The father attempts to say no but the mother steps in, “fucken ‘ell Kevin, he won’t bloody shut up if he don’t get a farken Peppa Pig too, win one for him”.
The man proceeds to pump $120 into a game to win a $5 fluffy toy that is being held together by a glue created when tears are mixed with the broken dreams of a faraway sweatshop worker. What a deal.
At the end of each day, Daz counts the money he has harvested from the field of dimwitted potatoes rolling around the show and attempts to impregnate a non-blood relative in his van to help create more carnies for his ever-growing empire.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
