This 88 page book is a quirky celebration of Brisbane, my home town.
"Even the toilet was floor to ceiling Elvis. There was no escaping him in Rhonda’s house and that was the way she and George like it. Her Georgy-porgy, fat bastard that he was! She loved him, fat or thin, he was a goer, not just in bed, but he did things. All she had to say was, “Georgy-porgy, love, this cistern sounds a bit funny.” And he would be up the stairs with his rubber mallet and it was fixed in no time. George always carried his rubber mallet in his leather tradesman belt and he only took it off to take a shower or a shit. That was the way he was. A good man, George, everyone said so. He didn’t mind being called porgy or porky because he was but fat never killed anyone and besides all his side of the family were like fucken elephants."