“Kye-wye, are you? Spotted you from the accent.
Yeah, we get a lot of youse fellas over here … Ya last
name’s not Thomson, I hope? No relation to that
mongrel in the Parliament? You musta heard about
heem? Nah? The one’s who’s been screwing all those
sheilas and charging it to the union? Union of ratbags
and scroungers, eef you ask me? Whatsa matter? Cat
got your tongue? I tell ya, you Kye-wyes have got a
cheek coming over here, getting elected to Canberra,
then rorting the system for all it’s worth! You’re not
one of them? I bet you’re not! But that’s what all of
youse say, isn’t it? Innocent as little lambs till you’re
caught with your hand in the till? Whassa matter?
Don’t youse have any sheilas worth screwing in New
Zealand? Not that our P.M.’s much chop in that
department – leathery old bitch she is … Perhaps
that’s how young Craig got round her in the first place
– administering some comfort in the bedroom
department, was it? Getting out here? Ya miles from
anywhere mate! If it’s a brothel ya looking for, my
cousin runs one down in the Cross. Nah? Well, fuck
ya then .. Ta very much. I’ll keep the change.”
Wednesday
Trans-Tasman Relations
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