Tag Archives: marital reconciliation

Episode 83 – Then We Were New

Don’t look at me, it’s way too soon to see, what’s gonna be, don’t look at this episode of …

THE BOGUE & BOGUETTE SHOW!!!

(THE SCENE: SHEVONNE‘s Housing Commission estate in Doonside early one Saturday morning. Thanks to state government budget cuts even more street lights are smashed, even more broken glass litters the concrete cul-de-sac leading to SHEVONNE’s townhouse, and even more graffiti has been left on the 1970s brown timber fences.

Into this dismal scene drives BOGUE in a beat-up 1995 Holden VS Commodore station wagon, its rear packed full of candy-stripe bags and cardboard boxes. It grinds to a halt outside SHEVONNE’s grotty two-storey townhouse, and BOGUE and his four downcast sons AIDEN, BRAIDEN, JAIDEN and KAIDEN trudge out of the car and up to the front gate.)

BRAIDEN: But Dad, I don’t want to stay here. I want to come with you! Shevonne cooks like crap and all we ever have for tea is two-minute noodles.

JAIDEN: Yeah, and she never cleans and the place stinks real bad and stuff, Daddy.

AIDEN: And it’s boring as batshit too, Dad. There’s nuffint to do here.

BOGUE: Well, that’ll teach you little smart-arse c#$ts for gettin’ me kicked out of Bafurst, won’t it? (walks up to the screen door with the torn flyscreens and knocks louder than a rock concert)

SHEVONNE: (opens the door slightly ajar and peers out behind the door) Who is it? Oh … you …

BOGUE: Yes. Me. And guess what, you fat dyke bitch – you got another four mouths to feed now. Here you go, boys. Your brand new home!

SHEVONNE: What? What’s going on?

BOGUE: Yup. I’m pissin’ off outta Sydney, headin’ up the coast. Me missus can take care of these snotty-nosed brats now.

SHEVONNE: Well … umm … some notice would have been great …. ummm … (calls upstairs) Cuz! Cuz! You better come down here quick …

BOGUETTE: (comes running downstairs, looking much plainer and dumpier than she did when she left BOGUE on election night) Yeah, what is it … (looks up through door) Oh, you. Wow. You’ve come back to me.

BOGUE: Nuh-uh, you dumb bitch. Guess again. I’ve just come around to drop these brats off!

BOGUETTE: What … uhh …

SHEVONNE: But we don’t have the space.

BOGUE: Tough, you lezzo nutjob, I’m droppin’ them off here whether you like ’em or not.

BOGUETTE: But … but … why?

BOGUE: ‘Cos these little c@#ts got me kicked out of the Bafurst 1000 with their big f#$kin’ mouths, that’s why!

BOGUETTE: Honey … please … don’t be so silly. Let’s just all go back home.

BOGUE: Nuh-uh.

BOGUETTE: Please … sweetie … let me go back home … please …

BOGUE: Listen, bitch. There’s no home to go back to!

BOGUETTE: Wh-wh-wh-WHAT?

BOGUE: Yup. I sold the house, all the furniture, sold the Territory, bought this beat-up old shitbox you see behind me. Had to get all the money to pay back the Attorney-General and the lawyers and the Tax Office and Sennalink. I chucked in the job at the Holden dealership, the pay’s shit if you don’t meet yer targets and Holden’s going bust anyway.

BOGUETTE: So, where are you living now? Out of that car?

BOGUE: Nup. Me, Matty and Joel have found work up the North Coast. They’re upgrading the Pacific Highway, we found a construction mob that hasn’t blacklisted us and they’ve agreed to give us a go.

BOGUETTE: So … you’re leavin’ Sinny?

BOGUE: Yup. I’m leaving Sinny. Outta this shithole. Too many bloody wogs and poofs and curries and junkie deadshits.

BOGUETTE: Wow … well, we can’t have the kids here, there’s only one spare bedroom, they won’t all fit.

BOGUE: Yeah, they will. Boys, go and get yer air mattresses and blankets out the car.

(AIDEN, BRAIDEN, JAIDEN and KAIDEN hesitate)

BOGUE: (raises his hand) NOW!

BRAIDEN: But Dad, the food is so shit here and there’s no Xbox and–

BOGUE: I said, NOW!

(The boys finally oblige)

BOGUETTE: Listen, honey … please … take me with you … we’ll work things out …

BOGUE: Wow, I coulda sworn that you were gonna leave me for good after I had that argument with your single-mother sl*t of a sister the night of the election. What made you change your tune, you cow?

BOGUETTE: But … life here … it’s just so terrible … there’s never any money and I haven’t got me hair done proper in ages and–

BOGUE: Oh well, you made your bed, now lie in it.

BOGUETTE: And (whispers) Shevonne can’t cook for shit and I love her to death but she has her mental health episodes where she wants to kill herself and I’m sick of dealing with that kinda shit and–

BOGUE: It’s all about you, isn’t it. What’s in it for me if I take you back, huh? And don’t promise me anal. You done that before plenty of times and it never happened.

BOGUETTE: I’ll cook for you every night! And clean too. I bet you didn’t keep the house as clean as I woulda done.

BOGUE: Nah, we kept it pretty clean. I worked them boys like slaves. It’s good to teach them little smart-arse brats a bit of a work ethic while I sit back and enjoy a Jim Beam after a hard day’s work down standin’ in the sun all day down the dealership.

BOGUETTE: Please … honey … take me back … I’ll come wiv ya up the coast, you won’t have to worry about a fing, I’ll find the kids a proper good school to go to and stuff.

BOGUE: (opens the screen door and points inside) All right boys, there’s your new home. That’ll teach you to open your big fat mouths talkin’ shit about me when others can hear. (the kids won’t go inside) MOVE!

BOGUETTE: Please … you don’t have to do this … you heard the kids, they don’t want to stay here, neither do me and Shevonne …

BOGUE: Christ I don’t get it, why are you so desperate to have me back? Huh?

BOGUETTE: Because … because I …

BOGUE: Because what?

BOGUETTE: Because I just want to go SHOPPING!!! (starts sobbing while beating her fists against BOGUE’s chest) I just want to go shopping, and you’re not providin’ me with my right to go SHOPPING!!!!

BOGUE: Fer fark’s sake, you selfish bitch. Get a proper decent job and provide yer own bloody right to go shopping!

BOGUETTE: But the salon won’t give me more shifts, so I can’t get the money to go SHOPPING!!!! I just want to buy handbags and make-up and clothes an’ stuff, but because of you it’s been ages since I’ve gone SHOPPING!!!! Boohoo …. please … just take me back … so I can go SHOPPING!!! Oh boobooboohoo …

BOGUE: So that’s it, huh? You don’t want me back ’cause you love me. You just want an ATM machine!

BOGUETTE: No, honestly, I do love you an’ stuff, honest … but I love SHOPPING too!

BOGUE: Fark, I’ve had enough of this. Anyway, time for me to go, try and beat the traffic on Pennant Hills Road and the F3. (turns around and walks back to his Commodore wagon)

BOGUETTE: Yeah, you fink you’re a bloke, don’tcha?

BOGUE: (turns around to BOGUETTE) Yeah … well … of course …

BOGUETTE: Yeah, you reckon you’re a bloke, but you won’t even provide for yer missus!

BOGUE: What? That’s just ridiculous …

BOGUETTE: Yeah, you heard me! Rool men provide for their missus! Give them a proper house to live in and money for things to buy and stuff! But no … you’re just a dog! A coward! Look at you, turnin’ away like that, runnin’ away from his responsibilities an’ shit. You reckon you’re a bloke? Yeah right!

BOGUE: Well … umm …

BOGUETTE: Yeah, you heard me! A coward! A total chicken! Rool men buy shit for their women and make sure they got a proper standard of livin’ an’ shit. But no. You’re just a selfish little girl runnin’ away to the North Coast without me!

BOGUE: Umm … err …

BOGUETTE: Yeah. You reckon you’re a bloke? Go on. Take me and the kids back. Prove it!

BOGUE: All roit, all roit. You can come up the coast with me. Go on, get all your fings and follow me and the kids in that shitbox Suzuki Swift of yours.

THE END … AND THE BEGINNING.

(A Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year to all my readers. I’ll see you all in 2014 with a whole new set of adventures as I turn my attention to a whole new geo-demographic that’s hitherto received little attention in the canon of fine Australian literature. Yours, Regional Reverie.)


Episode 73 – Lifebuoy

Somebody must have made a false accusation against Josef K., for he was arrested one morning after watching …

THE BOGUE & BOGUETTE SHOW!!!

(THE SCENE: DADDY BOGUE‘s room at a decrepit, inhumane dump in Summer Hill on a cold winter’s evening, within which even a dog could barely expect a dignified life. DADDY BOGUE is sitting on his rag-covered bed squinting at an ancient, snowy television screen watching yet another re-run of The Big Bang Theory. BOGUE is sitting beside him, sipping from a Tooheys New longneck, as is DADDY BOGUE).

DADDY BOGUE: Sho, shon, found a job yet?

BOGUE: (sips from his longneck) Naaah, not yet. Though, I gotta tell ya sumfint, Dad …

DADDY BOGUE: (guzzles from his longneck) Yeah, and what’sh that?

BOGUE: Well, I don’t know how to tell ya this, but … well … umm ..

DADDY BOGUE: Well, what, shon? What? C’mon, you can alwaysh tell yer old man …

BOGUE: Well, I held off from tellin’ ya this … but … (guzzles half his bottle)

DADDY BOGUE: Fark, it musht be big for ya to drink that much. Fark, I thought I wash bad …

BOGUE: Naah, naah, it’s nuffint bad. But yeah … anyway … I scored meself ten grand.

DADDY BOGUE: (his cheeks light up and his pupils dilate as they have not done in twenty years) Ten grand? Ten grand? Really? Fark, me shon, jusht two grand could get me a Ford Feshtiva sho I can do me shopping without having to worry about bush timetablesh …

BOGUE: Naah, naah, naah, ya dun unnerstand, old bloke! (gulps from his longneck) Anyway, here’s what happened … I go up to Isabella. Let’s just say that I found some, y’know, incriminating evidence an’ shit that would blow her poncey little cah-ree-ahr roit outta the water ..

DADDY BOGUE: Oh, her? Ryan’s farkin’ ex-mishus? Fark that farkin’ posh tight-arshe bitch right outta the water. I don’t care how farkin’ tight her buns are, she’sh farkin’ trouble. I tried to warn Ryan, let me tell you, me old mate …

BOGUE: (guzzles his Tooheys New longneck dry) Yeah, that’s long ago now. Ryan’s got nuffint to blame but himself. Anyway, I got some photos of her, farkin’ rootin’ some male stripper an’ shit, and anyway, using them photos, I got her to gimme Ryan’s car keys back.

DADDY BOGUE: What? What the fark? You got that farkin’ hoity-toity-bitch to give the car keys back to that tosshead bruvva of yours, but nuffint for me?

BOGUE: Well … umm … Dad … hear me out here … Anyway, I got that bitch Isabella to hook me missus up with a job at the bank what she works at …

DADDY BOGUE: What? Yer mishus? The very shame mishus who kicked you out and made you live in a playshe like thish while she’s gettin’ rooted by a p00f? (picks up an empty bottle of Tooheys New and throws it against the wall, where it shatters into a hundred pieces) Urghgurhgkurrhgnt! Fark. Farkin’ hell. Fer fark’s shake, youshe young blokes don’t learn nuffint .. don’ht learn nuffint, I shwear …

BOGUE: It’s not for her, stuff that, it’s for me kiddies. How are the kiddies gonna get fed and have a roof over their head if neither of their parents have got work?

(A very loud knock on the door)

BOGUE: Don’t worry that, I’ll answer it.

(BOGUE answers the door to find the greasy, mullet-haired CARETAKER in a white Bonds singlet and khaki stubbies)

BOGUE: Yeah, waddayawant?

CARETAKER: I tell ya woddiwant! I want youse to shart the fark up! Farkin’ throwin’ glasses around an’ shit!

DADDY BOGUE: (stands up unsteadily) Yeah? And who’s gonna farkin’ make me, ya kyurnt?

CARETAKER: Yeah, I’ll make you! And if you don’t loik it? Well, it’s to the Matthew Talbot Hostel in Woolloomooloo for you! Livin’ in a massive huge dorm under fluorescent lightin’ all night, never knowin’ if the wallet you put in the cupboard next to your bed before you go to sleep will be there the next mornin’ when you wake up. So you fink this place is too strict an’ shit? Well … guess what … next train to Kings Cross leaves in 15 minutes!

DADDY BOGUE: (slumps back onto the mattress) Yeah, all roit. All roit. Youse c#$ts win. Shorry. I didn’t mean to break bottlesh an’ shtuff.

CARETAKER: Yeah. Until next time! (slams door shut)

DADDY BOGUE: Yeah. Farkin’ dickheadsh. The whole lot of them. Yeah. Fark. Fark thish. Fark thish for a farkin’ joke. You know what, shon?

BOGUE: Yeah, what, Daddy?

DADDY BOGUE: (puts his right arm around BOGUE’s shoulder and hugs him tight) You’re me shon! Me shon!

BOGUE: Oh .. sniff sniff … Dad … Daddy … Don’t do that … You make me cry like a girl an’ shit … Please, Daddy … Oh, boohoo sniff … sniff snort … sniff …  don’t make me do that!

DADDY BOGUE: (sobs while holding BOGUE in his surprisingly tight grip) Farkin’ hell, a bloke’sh allowed to cry every now and again … You’re me shon! Me only shon! Not like that farkin’ tosher Ryan, who finksh he’sh too good for us … you’re me shon!

BOGUE: (hugs DADDY BOGUE back) And … and Daddy … you’re me Daddy! Always …always were, always will be … boohoo … You’re me Dad! Yeah, you like gettin’ drunk an’ shit, but you’re me Dad!

DADDY BOGUE: Yeah, and thingsh are workin’ out well here. Your dole’s in my off-week, and my dishability pension’s in your off-week. Sho combinin’ thingsh, we can both shtay pished all fortnight!

BOGUE: Yeah, this place is a dive, but hey, at least I got you to keep me company!

DADDY BOGUE: Sho, what’sh thish about ten grand you were sayin’?

BOGUE: Well, after I left Isabella’s place in Bondi and gave Ryan’s keys to his Audi back to him, I decided to see if I could screw more out of that bitch. So I called her from a public phone, and said, you gimme ten grand or the deal’s off.

DADDY BOGUE: Sho, she coughed up, roit?

BOGUE: Yeah, like taking lollies off a baby.

DADDY BOGUE: And where’sh thish ten grand now?

BOGUE: Umm … in me bank account.

DADDY BOGUE: (eyes light up) Shon! Shon! Let’sh shelebrate! Ten grand! C’mon, let’sh go down to the bottlo and grab shome more piss!

BOGUE: But, Dad?

DADDY BOGUE: What, shon?

BOGUE: But gettin’ pissed is what we’ve done every night since I got here. If we do that every night, well, how’s drinkin’ even more booze celebratin’ an’ shit?

DADDY BOGUE: (collapses back onto his bed) Fark, everyone finksh they’re shmarter than me … All roit, have it your way then, shon. Don’t farkin’ shout yer old man a beer or two after gettin’ ten grand! Fark all of youse, buncha farkin’ tightarshe c#$ts …

(A shy, diffident knock on the door to DADDY BOGUE’s room)

DADDY BOGUE: Lishen! If that’s the farkin’ caretaker, I’m gonna shue you fer harashment! I shaid I wash gonna quieten down!

BOGUE: Hang on, Dad, I’ll answer the door for ya.

(BOGUE steps up to the door, tenses up, and opens it, thinking it’s going to be the CARETAKER. Instead, he finds BOGUETTE standing there, looking dejected, holding her left elbow with her right hand)

BOGUE: Oh, it’s you, bitch? What the fark brings you here?

BOGUETTE: Please, honey … please come back!

BOGUE: Ha. Ha. Ha. Me? Come back? I’m happy enough as it is, slagface. Why would I want to come back?

BOGUETTE: Please … the kids … need you.

BOGUE: But, oh, gee whiz, don’t the kids now have that doughnut-ringer Jason to look after them now?

BOGUETTE: But … but …

BOGUE: Yeah? But what?

BOGUETTE: But … he’s gone now …

BOGUE: What? Did he farkin’ go and top himself? Good! That’s what every farkin’ Vegemite-driller in Penriff oughta do!

BOGUETTE: No no no! He didn’t kill himself! He just decided that, well, he preferred blokes and stuff.

BOGUE: What … so … he doesn’t have access to me kiddies any more? He doesn’t get to pervert Aiden, Braiden, Jaiden and Kaiden any more?

BOGUETTE: Oh, farkin’ grow up! He never stayed overnight, he never did anyfint to the kids, he wasn’t ever over for more than a couple of hours and I was wiv him the whole time. Honest!

BOGUE: Oh well. So, what brings you here crawlin’ on all fours then?

BOGUETTE: Sweetie … please … please please pretty please come back!

BOGUE: What? You farkin’ cheated on me, $lutball! Why would I ever wanna come back?

BOGUETTE: But … but I’ve found a job now!

BOGUE: Oh, so you ended up getting that job at the bank?

BOGUETTE: What? How the hell did you know about that!

BOGUE: Umm … err … umm … err … let’s just say that I have friends in the roit places.

BOGUETTE: Anyway, someone called me up offering a job at a bank, but I turned it down. I found my droim job instead!

BOGUE: What? Spreadin’ ya legs for truckies along the Great Wessen Hoiway? Yeah, some great job that is, you bitch!

BOGUETTE: No no no! I got a proper job!

BOGUE: What? Doing what?

BOGUETTE: I’m a technician!

BOGUE: What? What the fark? You’re so farkin’ retarded you didn’t even know how to record that Panfers game on Fridee Night Football on the Tivo when I did a night shift, you stupid dumb bitch!

BOGUETTE: No no no, I’m not that sort of technician!

BOGUE: So, what sort of technician are ya?

BOGUETTE: I’m a noyyyyle technician!

BOGUE: A nail technician? What? You program nails an’ shit?

BOGUETTE: No no no! I paint nails and I file nails and I make nails pretty and stuff and shit and … well … you know … stuff! Down at Penriff Plaza, 5 shifts a week!

BOGUE: Yeah, and who’s been looking after the kids when you’re working now that that dung-puncher Jason’s pissed off?

BOGUETTE: Oh, I’ve been dropping them off at Shevonne’s, she picks them up after school an’ shit.

BOGUE: Farkin’ hell! First you let a dirty-arsed perverted queer boy like Jason hang around me boys, and now you’re lettin’ that farkin’ mental nutcase lezzo dyke bitch cousin of yours baby-sit them while you’re at work. Farkin’ hell. I can’t win!

BOGUETTE: Please, pretty please, I’m so sorry …. I’m so so so sorry … Please. Come back. I never meant to sleep with Jason an’ stuff, it just … well … happened.

BOGUE: What? You slipped on a banana peel and landed on your back with your legs spread in the air while Jason also slipped on another banana peel at exactly the same time and landed inside you? “Oh, it just … well … happened!” Suuuuuure!

BOGUETTE: (gets down on knees and prays to BOGUE) Please … please … come back.

BOGUE: Nuh-uh. You made your bed, now lie in it, bitch!

BOGUETTE: (starts sobbing) But … but sweetie … I do love you … I’m so sorry … I’m so so so so sorry … but I do love you … Honest!

BOGUE: (stands up, chucks his empty longneck on the bed behind him) Yeah? You love me? Prove it! (unzips his jeans)

BOGUETTE: You want me to prove it? Good!

(BOGUETTE stands up and spins around with her back facing BOGUE, and lifts her long flowing fake-blonde hair up above her head, revealing BOGUE’s name still tattooed on the back of her neck, resplendent in Georgian copperplate script)

BOGUETTE: Here … here’s your name … I haven’t deleted it yet! And I don’t want to!

BOGUE: Wow … wow … you haven’t. Just wow.

BOGUETTE: (hugs BOGUE tightly and cries into his arms) Oh, boohoo …, oh, boohoohooohoo … I’m so sorry, it’s just … like … the stress and shit … like, I lost me job …

BOGUE: (cries onto BOGUETTE’s shoulder) Oh, honeybunch, yeah, things have been tough an’ shit … then I lost me licence …

BOGUETTE: Yeah, and .. and .. oh boohoo, and then we lost our house …

BOGUE: Oh, boohoohoo …. yeah, and then we lost our kiddies …. oh, our boys … the only boys we have … Aiden, Braiden, Jaiden and Kaiden, and that was tough … even more stress an’ shit …

BOGUETTE: Yeah, it’s all the stress an’ shit … all this stress, it’s too much … and .. boohoo …

BOGUE: And then there was that shit on the M5 and … oh booboohoo …

BOGUETTE: And come on, sweetie, even you have gotta admit, you can do better than this place …

DADDY BOGUE: (stands up, defensive, points finger at BOGUETTE) What? What? Sho you reckon that me shon is better than thish place?

BOGUETTE: (swirls around) Yes! Yes I do! A bloody guinea pig can do better than this place!

DADDY BOGUE: Yeah … Yeah, I knew it! Everyone thinksh they’re better than thish place … (sinks back to his mattress and takes another swig from his bottle) Fark … fark thish … the whole world’s conshpiring againsht me …

BOGUE: Oh, grow up, Dad! Me bitch is right!

DADDY BOGUE: What? Sho, she got yer name tattooed on the back of her neck. Like a farkin’ wh0re.

BOGUE: What … what did you jush say?

DADDY BOGUE: Yeah … like a whore.

BOGUE: (kicks all twenty-seven empty bottles of Tooheys New on the floor over) Urghgurhgurghruurghgughghuirrgghkurrghnt! You’re callin’ me bitch a farkin’ whore? Nobody calls me wh0re a wh0re except me! Y’unnerstand?

DADDY BOGUE: Fark thish. I heard what she shaid just then. “You can do better than thish place.” Farkin’ hell, everybody’s conshpirin’ againsht me!

BOGUE: Oh, quit it. Anyway, I’m out of here, back to me farkin’ mansion. Sure as hell beats this dump full of junkies and schizos and ex-cons and farkin’ bludgin’ old alcos like you, anyway!

THE END