For the uninitiated, the Royal Show is like transporting the patronage of Sizzler into a petting zoo with overpriced rides operated by the kinda man who’d stab his mother for Oxycontin and then get her to blow him for the dregs of the syringe.

For Shontell this year’s Royal Show was touch and go. Money was tight on account of her former FIFO husband’s 2-year hiatus from the employment sector. Or in his words, “I ain’t working for less than 130k a year ay. Fuck that shit”.

Well, like jizz through Derron’s broken condom, so are the day’s of her unexpected pregnancies. She popped last month, and the timing could not have been better. Like an immaculate cunt-ception, her little bundle of baby bonus was born.

At the ticket box, Shontell acts like someone has a gun to her head forcing her to attend the show. “Fucking $74! Then yous expect us to pay for everything in side. Yous are ruining me kid’s days!”

After several hours of splashing cash to the aromas of barnyard shit and sweaty boge-hooves in Crocs, Shontell decides to try her luck at sideshow alley.

She launches a baseball with all the coordination of a Caucasian wedding dance floor and fails to win a major prize. “This is fucking rigged, now me daughter won’t get a Peppa Pig toy, yous have ruined her day!”

Derron doesn’t give a shit as he mauls a dagwood dog and tries in vain to catch a guy in a Holden racing jacket looking at him. “Weak as piss cunt”, he mutters as he staunches his way past the man on his way to lament the carefree life of the prized pigs, “life’s just one big smoko for yous lot ay”.

It’s time for a ride, and Shontell takes her two little angels to the gnarliest fuckballin’ ride she can find. Surprise surprise, the kids are about 30cm too short and are denied entry. Now, the certainty of her kids being viciously hurtled to their doom pales into comparison to the fact they’ve been waiting for an entire 10 minutes.

When it comes to public shame Shontell is a seasoned campaigner, so she proceeds to screech and flaps her Lean Cuisine wings like a meth-addled Macaw, “YOUS ARE RUINING ME KIDS DAY!”

Christ, someone call Burgo, because that’s officially her catchphrase.

Only one thing can extinguish the raging grease fire in the fat-fryer of her heart: Bertie Beetle showbags. She joins a meaty queue and waits with all the patience of Iian Hewitson at a Bunnings’ sausage sizzle.

After 15 minutes a young showbagger makes a grim announcement, “Sorry folks but we’ve run out of Bertie Beetle bags”.

Shontell is restrained by security as she tries to claw the man’s face off. Derron finally pays attention to his family.

A sparkle forms in his eye, it’s what he’s been looking for all day as he throws himself into the fray, “fucking, punse onnnnn, ya weak pricks”.

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