You're showered and aftershaved, which is kind of ironic because you're hairy as a hobo. You're chortling and writing the tugpost in your head as you drive five suburbs over to the asian massage joint in the strip with the oldest charcoal chicken shop in Australia. 45 degree parking right fukn outside so you can scuttle inside in a hurry and don't get your white Christian Dior shirt and slacks too wet in the pissing Adelaide winter rain aswell as not to be seen by the normies in the takeaway shop waiting for the gook cunts who bought the business last week to fuck up their usual dinner order