Monday, September 9, 2013

An open letter to J.A. Rock (and all of America)

Dear J.A., 

Thanks so much for the public apology on your blog. You are, of course, right to be sorry. You were wrong. About everything. And all it took for you to admit it was a packet of Freddo Frogs and a small wooden wombat. 

J.A., you will notice that in the contract I sent you for The Boy Who Belonged, there are more cheap bribes examples of my largess. This is a pre-emptive strike, because here are some more Australian words that I promise are real. 

Arvo. As in, "I'll see you this arvo". The word "afternoon" has too many damned syllables in it, and if there's one thing we Aussies hate, it's wasting valuable time with syllables. We have better things to be doing. Like building boats out of beer cans and then racing them in a harbour full of crocodiles. 

Source: The Daily Telegraph
Or, in order to avoid crocodiles entirely, staging maritime battles in a dry riverbed. 

Source: The Henley on Todd

See? Always thinking, us Aussies. 

Anyway, as much as I'd love to stay and gloat about your apology, I've got to run. I think there was something off in that sanga... 

Sanga. A sandwich. As in, "I ate a Vegemite sanga for lunch and now I feel crook."

Crook. Sick. For reasons of possible sickness, see above. 

The duck's guts. Awesome. I don't know why the sanga made me crook. They are usually the duck's guts. 

So anyway, I chucked a sickie. Went to a barbie instead, threw back a coldie, and watched the footy with some mates from Brissie. Got on the grog a bit, and then I got in a blue with this  sparky, Macca, who was being a real lair, and broke my sunnies. Got a lift home with Bazza in his ute so at least I didn't have to go Shank's pony maaaaaaaaate----- 

*composes self*

Well, I seem to have wrestled control of the blog back from my inner bogan for the time being. Those of you who are still with me will have noticed that yes, JA and I are still having unresolved language difficulties. Hopefully we will resolve some of them in Mark Cooper Versus America, but, really, at this point it's less of an exercise in tolerance and more a game of oneupmanship. (Don't tell her, but I plan to break out the word "celsius" and win!) 

Also, we've got a contract on The Boy Who Belonged, which is a sequel to The Good Boy, and finds Derek and Lane preparing for their first Christmas together. Oh...and they have a very evil houseguest. Who can it be? 

Spoiler alert: 



Yay! It's Mr Zimmerman!!!!!! 


4 comments:

  1. This is not the first time I've presented myself as a worthy opponent to somebody then rolled over for chocolate. Nor, I imagine, will it be the last.

    However, I've finished the bag of Freddo frogs, and my resolve to be nice is weakening. You can't add an -ie or -y to the end of all your words and expect me to take you seriously.

    Though OK, "the duck's guts" is an awesome phrase.

    I did feel that MARK COOPER was good therapy--though there have been times I've suspected you of using Mark to get to me. And taking advantage of the fact that in the past I've had the backing of our editor, because our books have been about Americans. But here you're actually going to get away with some arses and maybe a celsius or two.

    But rest assured, I will either: 1) triumph in this battle of wills due to purity of soul/subtle acts of aggression. 2) let your "English" slide if you keep sending my stuff I can eat.

    Your choice how we play this game.

    Good (G') day.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. One day, just for fun, I'm going to send you a list of jobs.
      Chalkie - teacher
      sparkie - electrician
      tradie - tradesman
      firie - fireman
      garbo - garbage man
      ambo - ambulance officer

      And then I'm going to ask you to figure out why some are "iw" and some are "o". BECAUSE NOBODY KNOWS!

      But I will send you chocolate to help you with your mental breakdown.

      Delete
    2. There there...there there...
      Chocolate will make you feel better.

      Delete

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