I’m here today to tell you about a man – you might know him.He is every man lining up for The Shed in Northbridgeand he is every man who still thinks Ben Cousins is a heroand he is every man with a southern cross tattoo on his shoulder.He bears the cross on his shoulder but, christ, he’s not Jesus(though he may wear sandals wherever he pleases).He’s crackin’ a can of coke and Jack Danand lurching at me with his drink in his handand I’ve seen him, leaning out his Commodore,keening on me like I’m a common whore.I’ve got class, man, I like a conversation.Been to uni and got me an education.Yeah! This shit’s tertiary, bro,and I think you should knowto use your headuse your headuse your headuse your head.Like John Stuart Mill said,SHOW BITCHEZ RESPECT.Show bitches respect, show bitches respect,like Johnny Mill said, show them bitches respect.…Uh, yeah, that’s not quite what Mill said,but you know what I meant,though using the term ‘bitch’ was a detriment to my argument….But I digress. Yes! Express my words with finesse.Though this bogan everyman is causing me real stress,‘coz he’s the loudest and the meanest and he’s got cash, too,and he’s traded up the flannel for Armani suitsso he’s harder to find. But the state of his mind will dividehim from the other blokes every time that he gets blind.‘Coz in his head, the world is neatly split into two –so it’s me and it’s youit’s yours and it’s mineit’s black and it’s whiteit’s us and it’s them and it’s them and it’s usand everyone owes himand it’s not his faultand his only ambition in lifeis to drink every weekend and have a hot wife.Such is life! I guess this isthe life of his missus –tradin’ her freedom for his seldom kisses.So take your coke and your Jackand a big step back,‘coz if you’re crackin’ on me, I feel sorry for ya, son.I got 99 problems but a bogan ain’t one.