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!!!!!!