Life as a Bogan

This story is definitely not politically correct. It is an only slightly exaggerated story involving a sub-culture that lives in public housing estates in the outer suburbs of Australian capital cities, in this case Sydney. I hasten to add that the people depicted in this story are in no way indicative of all Australians, or even all public housing residents, just this particular sub-culture.

If you're offended by foul language, bigotry, racism, sexism and a whole raft of other isms, stop reading now. If you read this story and feel the need to tell the world that you are offended by it, that's your prerogative, just don't say that I didn't warn you. CM.

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Bogan: Person of a lower socio-economic status, typified by low education and personal development indicators. Appearance: Both Male & Female; Mullet hair-do (Short on top and long back and sides). Usually with a minimum of two front teeth missing, visible tattoos. Attire: Jeans, black, Tee shirt, Heavy metal tour shirt (stolen) Thongs (flip-flops) Habitat, public housing estates in outer suburbs, signified by rusting and stripped motor vehicles on front grass, (it could hardly be called a lawn because visits from a lawn mower are few and far between) and two old and non-matching sofas on front veranda. Language: English with regional patois, usually interspersed with profanities and obscenities. See also Feral and Houso.

Me (Dazza), Bazza and Shazza shared a house on Paradise Road in the San Souci Housing Commission estate in the outer Western suburbs of Sydney. San Souci is French for don't give a shit, which just about sums it up. The government don't give a shit about us. The cops on the other hand, give us shit all the time, hassling us about weed and ice and any other shit they can hassle us about.

When we have to front Centrelink (Social Security) because the fuckers are always trying to cut us off the dole, they call us by our proper names. I'm Daryl Winters, Shazza is me sheila Sharon Stone, and Bazza is Barry Jones, who just lobbed on us one day and never left. He roots Shazza when I'm locked up while the pigs try to find something to pin on me. We got a couple of kids, I'm not sure if I'm their dad or Bazza is, or maybe it's someone else. They say that the definition of confusion is Fathers Day on the San Souci estate. Child Services, the fucks, are all the time trying to take them off us 'cause they reckon that Shazza's not a good mum. What the fuck would they know, they probably don't have any kids of their own. She's a grouse mum, she's always made sure that Bazza and me don't do drugs in front of them, although she doesn't mind us hitting the piss when we have it. Lockie (Lachlan) and Randi (Miranda) have both managed to reach their late teens without spending time in a Detention Centre, which is rare around here, so we must've done okay.

It's getting hard to get any free piss these days, all the local bottlo's (bottle shops) watch us to make sure we don't nick (steal) any. We gotta go a long way to get any free piss these days and the Railway fuckers try to catch us for riding free.

Shazza makes sure that we have food at least once a day. She orders a couple of pizzas and when the delivery fucker knocks on the door she tells him she's got no dough and he can root her for a freebie. By the time he's finished we've eaten the pizzas. She's a good root, and I think the pizza guys look forward to rooting her, they keep coming back.

We had just finished the two party sized meat lovers when some cunt kicked down the front door. It was Johnny Rahuti, the big black Maori cunt from across the road. "What the fuck, can't you knock on the door like a proper cunt?" I yelled at him. You had to yell 'cause he used to be a Roadie for a thrash band and his hearin's shit.

"I did knock, how the fuck did I know that the fucking door would fall off?"

"Bazza, youse was s'posed to fix that fuckin' door, wot 'appened?" I asked him.

"I was rootin' Shazza." He seemed to think that was an okay excuse.

"What the fuck you want now?" I shouted at Johnny.

"No need to fuckin' shout, I can hear, I ain't fuckin' deaf. I need to borrow your wheels, mine fuckin' won't start."

"It didn't sound too flash when you got home last night."

"No fuckin' shit, it was boilin' its fuckin' head off, I think I mighta cooked the fuckin' donk (motor)."

"No fuckin' shit. When you gunna learn that ya can't run cars with a busted fuckin' radiator."

"I didn't know it was fuckin' busted did I?"

"Runnin' up the arse of that truck and havin' water pissin' out all over the road was a dead give-away don't ya reckon?"

"What do I know about cars?"

"Apart from nickin' 'em, not a lot. Why the fuck don't you steal a decent fuckin' car?"

"I was in a fuckin hurry weren't I?"

"Anyway, ya can't have my fucking car, Lockie's taken Randi to work at Maccas. He'll be home soon, d'ya want a beer or something?"

"Got any weed?"

"Nah Mate, we smoked it all last night. Shazza had to work her cunt off, we had an attack of the munchies, and had to get two lots of pizza. I got some more weed comin' in this arvo (afternoon) if you can wait that long."

"I guess I'll knock the top off a stubbie then."

I tossed him a stubbie of Fosters, he looked at it in disgust. "Wot's this, fuckin' Victorian piss, since when've you been drinking this piss?"

"It's all we could get."

"Bullshit, let's 'ave a look in your fridge, I bet you've got some Tooheys stashed in there."

"You can keep you nose out've the fuckin' fridge. Wot I got in there is none of your fuckin' business. It'd be a different matter if you'd kick in for the piss you drink, but nah, you're tighter'n a fish's arsehole. You'll drink wot I gives ya and like it, orright?"

Johnny tipped his head back and poured the beer down his throat, "If I pour it down quick I don't have to taste it." He said, chuckin' the empty in the corner with the other empties.

"Wot you want a car for anyhow?"

"Gotta do a job for this bloke, he's gunna pay me for it."

"Bull fuckin shit, you Maori bastards wouldn't know what work was unless it bit you on the arse."

"Fair dinkum he is. I met him at the pub and he said he was lookin' for a couple of big blokes to help him load a truck with TV's and such, and it's gotta be done tonight."

"While your loadin 'em how's about stickin one in the back of the car. We need a new TV, Bazza got pissed off when the Wanderers (Western Sydney Wanderers soccer team) got beat and chucked a stubbie at the fuckin referee. Fuckin glass and shit everywhere."

"Why don't he get you a new one?"

"Wot with, he's never got any money, if he's not pissing it against the wall, he's bettin' on some useless nag. Talk about a fuckin' loser, the last horse he backed finished tenth in a nine horse race. Now the bookie's after him for money."

The sound of a car engine shredded the air, it was coming fast and could only mean that Lockie was being chased by the cops. I slipped out the back door and picked up a screw driver and spare plates (Rego, license) knowing that he would come flying up the driveway and around the back of the house. If we were quick enough we'd have the plates changed before they get here.

He jumped out with the screwdriver he used for an ignition key in his hand, and began unscrewing the front plates while I did the back. We heard the cops drive past and then a few minutes later come back. When Sergeant Cox strolled around the back of the house I was under the bonnet (hood) listening to the motor. "Going a bit quick weren't you son?" He asked Lockie.

"Wot you talkin about, me and Dad have been here for the past hour tryin to get the fuckin donk to run sweet. It's all right for youse, you got mechanics to tune your heaps, we gotta do our own."

"So that wasn't you speeding down the road a couple of minutes ago?"

"How could it have been? We been workin on this shit heap."

"And you're prepared to swear that you and young Lockie here have been working on this vehicle for the past hour?" He asked me.

"Sure thing, would I lie to you?"

"I won't answer that. If you've been here all afternoon, who was it that I saw dropping your sister at Maccas?" He asked Lockie.

"Couldn't've been me Sarge, for starters I don't got no license, so how could I have dropped her off. It must've been the new guy she's fuckin'."

"Just watch yourself in future, all right?"

Shazza came out the back door. "Coxy, do you and your mate want to come in for a cuppa or a beer, or a root?"

"Jeesus Shazza, don't tempt me. Anyhow my new partner's a sheila."

"So? That'd spice things up a bit, or if she's not into a bit of three-way action she can always watch, and maybe learn a thing or two."

"I think I'll pass on the offer." He took out his note book and wrote down the Rego number. We knew that he was going to use the Rego Tracker in his car to check on it. As soon as he went down the drive we unscrewed the plates and put on another set from the stash we had in the shed.

"It would seem," he said as he came back, "that the plates on this car were reported stolen a month ago. Where did you get them?"

"Wot, these?" I asked as I pointed to the plates. "These are the ones that were on this car when I bought it, I've got the rego transfer papers to prove it." I went to the car, took the papers from the glove box and handed them to him.

He scratched his head for a minute, looked at the rego papers, then at the plates, then at his notebook. "But . . ."

"Wot's up Sarge?" I asked all innocent like.

"These weren't the plates that were on this car a minute ago."

"Are you sure of that?" I asked as I kicked the screwdriver under the car.

"I could have sworn that you had different plates on this heap of crap a minute ago."

"You'd better ease up on the piss Sarge, you're losing your marbles."

Shakin' his head he walked back down the drive. We pissed ourselves laughin' as they drove off. I tossed the screwdriver to Johnny. "Don't forget the teev."

"She'll be sweet, thanks." He climbed in and backed down the drive, knocking over the wheelie bin on the way.

"Fuckin' useless prick, where'd he get his license, in a raffle?"

"He hasn't got one." Lockie said. "He figures that if he hasn't got one the cops can't take it off him."

"He's not Robinson Crusoe there, Bazza lost his two years ago after his third driving pissed charge, but that hasn't stopped him."

A mob of Lockie's mates rocked up and he took off to somewhere. "Hey!" I yelled at him as he was just about to climb into their car. "Who's gunna pick Randi up from Maccas?"

"How the fuck would I know, you lent your only workin' fuckin' car to Big Johnny. She's just gunna have to find her own way home."

"She's a big girl, she'll get a lift from someone." Shazza said. She grabbed my cock. "Bazza's off with the fairies, he's been givin' the piss a nudge. Now's the time we can have a root without him buttin' in. I wish he'd find a sheila of his own and stop askin' me for it."

"You could always say no."

"Jeesus Dazza, you can say some stupid things, I got needs too, if you were man enough for me I wouldn't have to look for it anywhere else."

"Aren't the pizza guys enough, me and them?"

"I'm getting' fuckin' jack of pizza all the time, and Bazza's always around when I need it, you and them aren't."

"Bazza's always around, because he's got nowhere else to be."

"Let's forget about him, are you gunna fuck me or what?"

"After wot you just said you'll have to give me a head start."

"The things I do for you." She dropped to her knees in front of me and took him out. "Hullo stranger." She told him as she took him in her mouth. When he was hard enough she dropped her dacks and bent over the kitchen table. I shoved him in and began rooting her the way that she liked. She yelled out loud enough when she came to wake the dead, or in this case Bazza.

"That'd be right, startin' without me again." He looked out of it, but had his dacks down and tried to shove his cock into Shazza's arse.

"Get that fuckin' thing out of my arse, you know that's a no-go zone."

"If you think that I'm gunna stick him into your cunt while it's full of Dazza's spoof, you've got another think comin'."

"Well you're just gunna have to do without it, 'cause Dazza's going back in there as soon as he can get it up."

"What the fuck is it with you two, it's not as if your married or anything."

"We don't need any Priest to say that we're married, we love each other, don't we Darling?" She smiled at me and gave me a sloppy tonguey just to show him.

"I'm goin' back to bed, this is too much for me." He headed for his bed.

"That's all you're good for, sleepin' and fuckin'." Shazza yelled at his back.

"Bite me arse." He yelled back.

"Never in a million years is my mouth getting' near your spotty arse." She yelled and then laughed at her own joke. "That's tellin' 'im."

"I thought you liked him." I said to her.

"Wot, I only let him root me because I thought he was your mate, and he was always here and up for it."

"I thought that he was your friend, otherwise I would've told him to fuck off ages ago."

"I think he's been sniffin' around Randi lately, always talkin' to her when he thinks we ain't watchin'."

"He'd better keep it in his pants, if I catch him tryin' it on with her I'll cut his dick off and shove it down his throat and he can give himself a blow job."

"My hero. You tell him to stay away from her, or he can get the fuck out of our house."

Shazza and me were on our third beer and second cone, or was it second beer and third cone, who gives a shit anyway, we were pretty out of it when Randi came in. "Where was Lockie? He was supposed to pick me up at nine thirty."

"He's out with his mates. Anyhow he doesn't have the car tonight, I lent it to Johnny Rahuti."

"So how was I supposed to know this. I had to catch a train and walk home from the station."

"Sorry love, it won't happen again."

"I think I'll have to make other arrangements for getting home, I wouldn't get in a car with you in this condition, both of you are off your faces." She went off to her room. "What the fuck is he doin' in my bed with his hand on his cock?" She screamed.

"C'm here, you know you want this." Bazza slurred, shakin' his cock and leering at her. "Ya've been sniffin' at if for yonks."

"Dad, get this bastard out of my bed. Oh Christ he's been wankin' himself all over the sheets. Get this disgusting pig out of here."

I grabbed him around the neck and dragged him out of her room and threw him out the front door. "Fuck off and don't come back!"

"I gotta get some clothes."

"Stay there, I'll get 'em for you." I grabbed his dacks and a shirt and tossed them to him. "You can come by tomorrow and collect the rest of your things, they'll be waitin' on the footpath for you."

"I can't stay here, I'm going to a friend's house," Randi said, "I'll come back when he's gone from here for good. I don't know how you can stand having him around here." She looked at Shazza and me.

"We wuz just talkin about that. He's fuckin outta here."

"I'm still going to stay with a friend." She took a mobile phone from her bag and pushed the screen.'

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Shazza asked.

"I bought it with my own money. Hi Mel, can I stay with you tonight?" She looked at us as her friend squealed her acceptance of the plan. "Don't worry, I'll get there. See you, and thanks." She went to her room and emerged minutes later with a back pack full of clothes. "I'll call by on the weekend and pick up the rest of my stuff. Just so you know, I'll be starting Uni in a couple of months."

"What?"

"You haven't cared what I've done with my life, so I haven't told you. For the past three months I've been working at a different Maccas. I got sick of Lockie and his mates coming in and telling me to forget about the burger and the salads, they wanted their roll with nothing on, shit like that. I asked to work at somewhere that I wasn't known. I told them that it was bad for their corporate image to have those fuckwits hanging around making suggestive remarks. They agreed and offered me another restaurant, they said that they didn't want to lose me, and that I was one of their best employees. They even offered me a position on their management programme. In the meantime I passed my year 12 exams and got into Uni."

"Why didn't you tell us? "Shazza asked her.

"You signed all of the paperwork, it's not my fault that you never read it, you even signed the agreement for my HECS loan."

"Our daughter the fuckin genius, who'd a thought it?" I said. I never realised just how smart she was. Shazza signed all her report cards, right from Primary School.

"See ya!" She waved to us as she headed for the road. "Don't worry, I can look after myself."

Miranda walked to the train station and caught a train the three stops to the station closest to Mel's place. She was just about to hail a taxi when a young man approached her. "You must be Miranda."

"Yes, who are you?"

"Simon, Melinda's brother Simon. She asked me to come here and look out for you. She showed me a picture of the two of you taken in one of those photo booths so that I'd recognise you. Before I saw your picture I was going to tell her that I couldn't do it. I'm glad that I didn't. Here we are." He indicated a not very young but still shiny BMW 3Series. He held the door open for her and admired her legs as she slid into the seat. "I hear that you're starting Uni soon, what are you studying?"

"A Business degree. I hope to get a job in the financial sector, playing with other people's money sort of appeals to me." She saw the shocked look on his face and smiled. "Just joking of course, apart from the prospect of earning the stuff, I'm not interested in it. That and Law are a long way down on my list of careers. I'm studying Environmental Science, I hope to save the world."

"Good luck with that, government priorities world wide would mean that you'll have your work cut out for you."

"What would you have me do?"

"If we rely on governments to act then we'd better not hold our breaths, they only get off their butts when forced to. I'm studying Ag, Science with the emphasis on sustainable food production. The world is going to need increased food production that doesn't deplete the natural resources. The slash and burn style of agriculture is no longer sustainable."

"I suppose that you're into the genetic modification of crops."

"If you look at Nature you'll see that it has genetically modified both plant and animal species over time to take advantage of the changing environment. GM crop science just seeks to speed up that process. It's the same with livestock grazing, we in Australia have, for far too long, followed the British principles of livestock grazing. That would be fine if we had the same climate that they do, but we don't. It's only in the last few decades that we have turned to drought and tick resistant breeds of cattle, and, with the decline of the wool market, into meat producing sheep breeds. We have alternate meat resources that require a shift in attitudes by the consumers such as camels and water buffalo, even crocodile meat. It's all good stuff and suited to our climate, so why aren't we taking advantage of these resources?"

Miranda was saved from comment as he pulled into the driveway of Melinda's block of flats.

"Has Simon been boring you about his pet topic? I should have warned you about that."

"No, I actually enjoyed it. He made several valid points."

"Okay, what's the story? Why do you need to get away from home?"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time, but when I got home I found this guy Bazza who's been hanging around like a bad smell for as long as I can remember, waiting in my bed for me. He had visions of me and him having sex. I found the whole scene disgusting and told my parents that I was going to stay with a friend and wouldn't come back home until they'd kicked him out."