Let me tell you something for free sportsfans, those arseholes who towed the missus’ sh*tbox pulsar away from the car park on Racecourse Road last year while the old girl was in the public dunny across the road holding our pregnant daughter’s hand as she spewed her guts up from morning sickness must be cursing the day they tried to pull another quick, slick 500 con trick bucks by stealing the old bomb and taking it over the river to their East Brisbane holding yard as collateral for an extortion.
Thought they could fuck with my missus and kid these crooks did they? While my little was girl up the duff, and the missus was crook and needed the car to go to doctor’s appointment and hospitals. Blithely imagined they could extort the girls, and when I stood them up and refused to pay thought I was some sort of weak pissant they could threaten and scare away did they.
Know a low-level bikie or two do you tow truck man? Gee mate, I might just know his boss’s boss’s boss. Might not too. Posed the question to the faux-tough guys: do you wanna throw the dice and find out? The tough guy hung up his phone with the unlisted number at the presumed suppressed address I’d just read over the blower to him as I invited myself and a couple of mates over for a cuppa tea and a chinwag about the car.
Sent me a lawyers letter 5 minutes later the tough guy did, or got his low rent law clerk pretending to be a lawyer to do anyway, and claimed that his poor wife and kids couldn’t sleep because the boogeyman from Geebung had been so mean.
Fuck mate, my heart bleeds.
Got a violin I can borrow? The missus left her in the boot of the car you’ve got in your yard.
I left him message on his other unlisted number and suggested that the kids were old enough now to sleep in the car, and at least they had one. Read our their dates of birth too, just to make sure I hadn’t hoist my mast on a case of mistaken identity. Never heard back from the big-mouthed fella either. Didn’t even come out when I pulled up in the driveway and sat on the horn. Or answer the door when I knocked, before someone let the dog’s dogs off the leash and I had to beat a retreat out opf guilt that I forgot to bring a can of temazepan laced Pal so the little fellas could havce a good snooze. Oh well, there’s always next time I guess.
More than one way to skin a cat though, or a crooked cocksure c*nt. You’re reading about it right now, and I’m guessing he is too.
So hello Mr Rip-off Tow Truck operator with the archetypal terrorist’s type name Mahmoud Abu Ziad. How are your cornflakes son? Choking on them are you? Good. Heard from the AFP lately mate?
Up to speed with those detention without charge on suspicion of harboring explosive chemicals in the mechanic’s storeroom at the spare parts yard?
Better bring yourself up to speed son, and \don’t answer the phone or the hammering on the front and back doors until you do, and you’ve given that half-baked halfwit clown of a wannabe debt collecting standover man lawyer of yours a call.
The whole thing’s all a bit like Baba Ghanouj isn’t it brother?
One of those dishes best served cold.
See you soon buddy.