Shut up. Bec has an arts degree, a full arm sleeve and attends art exhibits. It’s like she crawled into her Perth cocoon a lameo cunt-a pillar and emerged a sick-bishafly ready to be hell cool in Melbourne.

Of course, Bec doesn’t consider her sleeve to be the same as the ones on you dick-drooling Perth bogans. Hers are designed by artists you don’t know and make powerful statements about issues you don’t care about.

See that every-cunt bird’s flying away tatt? That symbolises her feelings towards boat people, or animal rights or is it youth detention? Well, some shit.

The stew of anti-Perth sentiment was simmering, and it all boiled over on her boyfriend’s birthday. She hands him his present: Corona bottles altered into drinking cups and a bowl made out of a used vinyl record.

“I know you wanted boardies babe, but don’t you think recycling and sustainability are more important?”

The lad does his best to hide his disappointment but is unable to muster an enthusiastic response as he reflects bitterly on the hundreds of dollars worth of jewellery he’d bought her the month before.

Bec, on the other hand, goes ape shit like she was Tony Abbott running late for a flight and being stuck behind a particularly chapless Mardi Gras float.

“I am totally sick of this uncultured city, fuck you man, I’m moving to Melbourne!”

The next three months of her life play out like an excruciating montage. She storms down to a piercer and gets a nose ring, she challenges each and every one of her friends on FB to check their privilege and most importantly, she talks endlessly about her impending move but never actually buys the fucking ticket.

Finally one day she (her dad) buys a ticket. She posts a long status about how her new life will be about hanging with musicians, doing art, drinking great coffee and most importantly being around the highest density of Facebook profile pic filterers in the known world. She will be making such a difference.

It’s not just ketamine and MD caps she is high on, it’s telling people she is now a Melbourner. A dream that lasts for 3 months before returning home after blowing all her money on a night of excess during her cringe-worthy, “3 month anniversary of being a Melbs chick”.

If only Perth airport had a quarantine section for the attitude, she brought back.

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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