2 September 2027
Thursday. Father’s Day this Sunday, and the house tour is full of dads. I can tell a dad from a hundred metres. Sensible shoes, opinions about the woodpile and an urge to explain the dunny to everyone, including me.
Kev has asked me to pass on a message from the management. If you have had a few beers at the pub first, you are not going in the dunny. Not today, not ever. Have your beer after. I agree with this completely. A dunny requires a clear head, steady hands and good judgement, three things I am famous for.
Several dads came dressed up today, which I love. Big hats. Flannelette. One wore a full ringer’s outfit with a stockwhip he wasn’t allowed to take in. He did the accent, too. Bonus points for that. Kev says there are always bonus points for the accent. I didn’t know there were points. I would have entered.
Closed shoes, the management says, and I say the same. Thongs are for the beach. A dunny is not the beach, no matter what the backpackers tell you.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads. Smoko is getting me a stick.
— Huge Axeman
