On Sunday last, from somewhere in Melbourne’s boozy nightlife district, two pissed idiots called my phone at around three am. My phone rejects any anonymous number. I reject any caller because nothing good comes from phone calls. Trust me. You have zero hopes of ever getting me on the line.
To that end, I typically ignore messages too: never listen to the rotten things. Moreover, I only know if there’s a blocked message if I’m bored enough to check for one. This was the case on Sunday afternoon. And there it was. Before even playing it, the predictability alone alerted me to who it was. Always game for a laugh I deigned to play it.
What followed might’ve been scripted by the former Secretary of the Melbourne Anarchist Club, since he and a “Nazi” connected later to Tom Sewell, invented it. Only, the “Nazi” was a “Fed” whose background was entirely fabricated and—after serving as gullible Tom Sewell’s Sydney leader of the ridiculous Lads Society—disappeared forever more. I talk of course of Luke McMahon and Mark McDonald, with retired Australian Federal Police rat Neil Erikson along for the ride.
Yet, it was also scripted by about 30 Jim Beam & Colas, 12 Pints of some rotten Victorian piss, and probably 14 lines of Bolivian chalk dust. But that tipsy tipple doesn’t get all the writing credit—the authorship of half-a-brain cell between two of Melbourne’s dumbest is also due acknowledgement. Not the two drongos themselves, but just their errant and microbial speck of brain matter which they share like a string of snot connecting the two.
To retort: I don’t wear women’s dresses, I am most undoubtedly Jewish, because I was anointed a senior Rabbi in Jerusalem under the guidance of the B’nai B’rith, and I’m going to have Mossad kill you and Fedi (nee Medi). I was lifting weights when you were parading around your sister’s bedroom in her third-grade school uniform, and conflating Nationalism with weightlifting made me spit my drink all over my monitor I laughed so hard.
All I’ve ever done is commit to the cause of White Australia and support our brother Whites. I’m currently under sentence because of it. My service may not have made ACA, because it didn’t involve poncing around in black shorts, a silly hat and an “88” T-Shirt with pubescent bum fluff on my face, but it has been unconditional and without profit. Moreover, I have never changed my stripes, switched from “anti-Islam” to some fucked up “dissident right.” I remain loyal to my chosen group.
Furthermore, if ever I decide to “neck” myself I’d travel to Melbourne first and kill both you and Sewell beforehand. Then I’d return to Sydney and waste Joel Davis. I wouldn’t even neck myself after all of that because then I wouldn’t be able to relive those beautiful moments so I’d resign myself to writing books in a prison cell and reminiscing about pumping shells into you, Sewell, and Joel “What is toilet paper?” Davis. I was in street rumbles when you weren’t even born. And they weren’t with Antifa pussies either.
I’m old now but I’d put my 80 trillion brain cells against your combined NSN intellect of one-and-a-half any day. Now, convince me NOT to make a police complaint against you. Hell, I’m under sentence for the same thing, so I KNOW how it works… Getting one more NSN dickhead out from under the feet of Nationalism would suit me down to a tee.
And I’ve never met EITHER you or the other galah professing to know me so personally that they can assume such intimacy as in the first call. He should cop a sentence too, whomever he is.
And, for the record, I will actually adopt the name “Penguin” because he’s cool.
- The recording of the call is below this excellent graphic.