ABOVE: Bullgoose took this photo. We have so many questions.
I want to make a film. Only one film. I’m not greedy or big-headed. Wait, actually I am big-headed: size 63. It’s hell getting hats, I tell you.
Oh, sorry. That one’s Special Order. Eighteen months for delivery, and add a zero after the price.
(Sigh) OK, sign me up.
I got lucky once.
Actually, we do have one in a size 63. An Akrodabra Snowy Territory Bonk Bruster. We ordered it in for a gentleman, but you can have it.
Oh, really? I wouldn’t want to…
No, no, that will be fine. Probably.
Definitely. We’ll order him another one.
Erm… big lad was he?
Yes, I seem to remember he was into sports. Rugby, wrestling… maybe a bouncer.
Yes, I think so. Polynesian gent. I remember he was carrying a ukulele. Ha, looked like a matchbox in that hand.
Hard to know.
I spent the next couple of nervous years with my collar pulled up and the Snowy Territory Bonk Bruster pulled low whenever I walked the streets of Casino. The gazumpted Polynesian never appeared, but I was questioned by the police on several occasions.
So, anyway, I only want to make one movie. Dogs and Sausages.
It will be a boffo smash. It’s in the bag. I will finance it with a Go Fun Me Up campaign and TikTok clips of my dog dancing/sleeping with a kitten. No, wait. A possum. Possums are better than cats. They’re cuter, and you can let them out at night and they won’t savage native wildlife and bring home bits of them and put them on your bed like you ordered them from Uber Eats instead of cooking a wholesome and economical meal for yourself.
People will rush me like zealots after Mary McKillop’s G-string, or Peter Brock’s first gear knob (and yes, I know that Brockie didn’t use a separate gear knob for first gear). Folks love animals and animal stuff.
Not giving too much away, but it will be a heist movie. Think Ocean’s 23, but with more leg lifting. There’s this bunch of dogs. Old Cecil/Celeste, the kindly butcher, has been slipping them offcuts out the back of Woolies for years, but Woolies has sacked all its butchers and now the mutts are half mad with the starvation and half mad with seeking righteous revenge for the unfair sackery of old Cecil/Cecily, or maybe Old Liu Chang, or Onkole: this thing will be as inclusive as hell, with a G rating, although there will be a bit of fruity language and shots of cats’ dates. We’ve gotta have cats’ dates because nothing razzes a dog up more than a haughty, insufferable cat poncing about with its tail in the air.
Come to think of it, I might cast all of the cats’ parts for possums. Make it more Aussie.
So, they plot to hijack a shipment of sausages and legs of lamb. Legs of lamb are crucial. What’s funnier than a dog running down the road with a string of sausages in its gob? Yep, a dog running down the road with a leg of lamb. It’s the asymmetry of it. The dog has to cock his head at a funny angle to account for the heavier, meaty end of the leg.
The only firm casting at this point is Reg. Little Minch Piddens has a young Rottweiler called Reg, and Reg can hit that sweet spot between George Clooney’s Ulysses Everett McGill, Heath Ledger’s Joker and that Orla from Derry Girls. The camera loves him, and he’s eaten several. He’s always pinching Little Minch’s 9kg kettle ball and prancing around the yard with it, so a massive leg of lamb will be no problem. We’ll shoot it in one take, because Reg won’t be giving it back, that’s for sure.
I know you’re as excited as I am, so I’ll keep you posted as the production proceeds. If you’ve got a keen dog, or possum, start training them up. Just basically get them to run down the road with, say, 27 sausages for 200m without stopping to scoff them.
Also, if you have a St Bernard that can fart on command I’d be very interested.
A lesson to us all.