Thursday, 21 January 2010

Two trailer park girls go round the outside

2 weeks of non-stop partying consequently meant it was time to find work. Conventionally you hand round CV’s into every bar/cafe/kebab shop/brothel around. But k and I chose to be less conventional – finding a hand written notice saying...

“ 2 female travellers needed for work. Good pay, free accommodation” grammar and spelling just as genie as was a sign from GOD. We rang up spoke to a partly unconscious deep voice, got the jobs, packed up our shit and embarked on our new adventure.

The bus pulled up at Casino, Australia’s beef capital. And we were ushered to a working class funfair with a few retired ponies and rusty rides. We darted dodge ‘what the fuck?!?’ looks to one another as we were given keys to our new home, a trailer.

Our ‘Pinkies’ show work colleges consisted of Mark, josh, Wes and Mary fuck Anne..

Mark. Type 1 error of being ginger and covered in mutated freckles was nothing short of a psychopath. Decades of severe drug and alcohol abuse, serious learning difficulties and 7 convictions ranging from drug dealing to GBH meant he was an interesting character. Conversation with Mark was limited, awkward and usually through a small window of our trailer. He’d mumble and stutter usually offering a “cone” (Aussie term for a bong) or a “KFC” thrusting his deranged face or gifts through our window.

Josh. Type 1 error for only having 3 small black teeth and a BMI of a 6 year old was considerably more compos mentis. He also had a colourful array of convictions and claimed to be an extraordinary cook. We asked for scallops he gave us potato scallops...trialling his cookery skill we soon realized he talked absolute bullshit as I think you’d all agree, a jar of tomatoe sauce n pasta is not gourmet cuisine. He had no bank account, passport, driver’s license, national security number – he thought that all being very ‘cool’.

Mary Fuck Anne. Type 1 error of being a fat, Green Day obsessed mutton dressed as lamb. Smoked like a chimney, ate like a pig and general conversation of “fuck where fuck are my fucking smokes aye fuck spewing aye fuucckk.. fucking Boys fucking stole my fucking smokes fuuuuck... fuck ... FUCK... “Having to share a trailer with her was nothing short of painful. The slut cornered us in the trailer with a raw bleeding slab of cows’ liver and asked if we thought it was ok to cook. She was number one on our shit list.

Wes. Type 2 error of marrying a female showie and breeding an inbreed pack of children. Was a racist, arrogant, illiterate plank who happened to be our boss.

Our jobs were to sell either dodgem car or bouncy castle tickets to a bunch of inbred Australians and aboriginal kids. We worked 16 hour shifts in horrendous lycra, pink shirts. Different carnies would attempt to communicate with us by shoving Dagwoods ( meat substitute and bread deep fried) dripping with ketchup into our ticket boxes. They would offer us cones (bongs) sometimes as early as 8 in the morning. We would set up and take down the rides with no training after a few too many Jim Beans.

And yes we pissed in our trailer shower because we couldn’t be arsed to walk to the toilet – don’t judge

1 comment:

  1. you dont have a box for DIRT BAGS!