Epiosde 26 – Home, Sour Home

And, live from the wilds of Western Queensland, I bring you this Friday’s episode of …


(THE SCENE: A down-market, somewhat ratty-looking townhouse complex in St Marys. The pavers in the common driveway are cracked, there’s some scrappy vines growing up the side of the brick two-storey townhouses, and some of the garage doors have dents.

A large removalist’s truck is parked outside one of the townhouses, the labourers busy moving furniture from the truck into the townhouse. BOGUE and BOGUETTE are also busy moving odds and ends from a trailer hired from a service station attached to a Commodore borrowed from one of BOGUE’s construction site mates. AIDEN, BRAIDEN, JAIDEN and KAIDEN are already inside running around causing a riot like the filthy brats they are.)

BOGUETTE: (trying to get a large box of clothing in through the front door edgewise) Honey, you are so bloody lucky that the MP and his receptionist refused to make a statement to the coppers, and that you only got a public nuisance charge!

BOGUE: (carrying his precious collection of Jim Beam bottles) Yeah, and how about that magistrate fella! What a bleeding-heart do-gooder! I never thought I’d say this, but thank Christ for bleeding-heart do-gooders! What did he say again? “The defendant’s actions, while unacceptable, are obviously the actions of a man who genuinely loves his family, and the fact that he was driven to such extremes is a sad indictment of the government’s neglect of its duty to provide housing to its citizens.”

BOGUETTE: Yeah, now you’ve got another hundred hours of community service to do, on top of what you already gotta get done for that drink-drivin’ charge.

BOGUE: (carefully sorts collection of bottles and places them one-by-one, accruately square to one another, on the wall unit in the living room) And six munf’s probation! Dun forget the probation! Christ, havin’ to go to the parole office every bloody fortnight, while I’d rather be makin’ money on overtime – and they’re makin’ me do farkin’ anger management lessons too! How dare they say I got an anger problem! Urrghgurkurgghnt!

BOGUETTE: Sweetie, settle down! It’s not the end of the world! Yer bloody lucky you’re not in jail. And where would we all be then? Up shit creek, I’m tellin’ ya! Me and me kids would deffo be sleepin’ on the street then! So lucky we found this place, rental for only $330 a week, and that the landlord took pity on us after seeing us on Today’s Affair Tonight. Who knows, once our old place is auctioned off, there might be enough money left over and we can save up for a new house … maybe not as large … And we’re close to the train station here too so I can get to Shevonne’s place and her shop easier and stuff …

BRAIDEN: (runs down stairs) Mum! Dad! Me and Aiden, Jaiden and Kaiden can only find three bedrooms. Where are we gonna sleep, Mummy? (other kids run down the stairs, looking all worried)

BOGUE: All roit. Me and yer Mum are gettin’ the big room. Aiden, Kaiden – you get the back room. Braiden, Jaiden – you get the smaller room at the front.

KAIDEN: Nooooooooo!!!! Waaaaah!!!!! I want my Mummy! I want my Mummy! (runs to BOGUETTE and hugs jer legs with all his might, refusing to let go)

BOGUETTE: Christ, no! Aiden, Jaiden – youse share the back room. Braiden, Kaiden – youse share the front room.

BOGUE: What? What the fark? You keep molly-coddlin’ Kaiden. Christ, he’s gotta grow up some time! Who cares if Aiden pays out on him every now and again. Maybe it’ll stop Kaiden’ll being such a farkin’ crybaby girl!

BOGUETTE: Hell no! That DOCS sheila Julia will have a pink fit! She called me yesterday, said she’d be visiting our new home to make sure it’s a fit and proper house for the kids and stuff as soon as she can. She saw what happened at the MPs’ office on the telly too, she wasn’t happy about that, I tells ya!

BOGUE: (sighs) All roit. Wrap the little prick in cotton wool then. Let him stay a five-year-old the rest of his bloody life for all I care!

REMOVALIST: (wheels BOGUE and BOGUETTE’s double-door stainless steel fridge through the front door into the kitchen) All right, guv, where does this go?

BOGUE: Well, gee. It’s a farkin’ fridge. And gee whiz, lemme fink here – I dunno … maybe fridges go in the farkin’ kitchen? Fark’s sake …

REMOVALIST: Yeah, I know that, no need to get all smart-arse on me. But … there’s not enough space in the kitchen …

BOGUE: Lemme see … (walks into kitchen and sees that the space allocated for a fridge is only wide enough for a single-door fridge) Christ. Oh sweet mother of Christ. We ain’t got no place to put it. All roit,  I got no choice but to get you to dump it in the middle of the kitchen. We’ll have to put the dining table in the lounge room. folds arms and stares at BOGUETTE)

BOGUETTE: What? Why are you starin’ at me like that for? What have I done now ….

BOGUE: You said this place was perfick.

BOGUETTE: It is perfick! Well, compared to a Salvos shelter or a a bus stop anyway … why? What’s wrong?

BOGUE: What’s wrong? What’s wrong? You got the nerve to say what’s wrong?

BOGUETTE: Well, what is wrong?

BOGUE: Urghghgkurtghgkurrghnt! You said it was perfick, but our fridge don’t even fit in the farkin’ kitchen! Why did God put eyes in yer bloody skull if you don’t even use them, you stupid slag!

BOGUETTE: Well gee, I’m sorry if I ain’t a farkin’ perfectionistical dick like you! I didn’t notice, all roit? I was in a hurry to get us in somewhere, and …. well, we can live with a fridge in the middle of the kitchen for a while? Until we find another place of our own again …

BOGUE: God damn you, you stupid woman! I can’t trust ya to do nuffint right! What are me mates gonna fink when they come over for a barbie and some drinks, and see a big farkin’ fridge in the middle of the kitchen blockin’ the way! They’re gonna fink we’re some sorta retards or some povo c#$ts!

BRAIDEN: (runs back into room) Dad! Dad! Mum! Dad! There’s another truck here! I thought there was only one truck!

BOGUE: What? A second truck? I didn’t order no second truck, I only hired the one … (goes to front door and looks out) Christ … oh Christ … you wouldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t farkin’ believe it. Hey love, come here, guess who’s moving in next door …


2 responses to “Epiosde 26 – Home, Sour Home

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