Oi Micko, ya cheeky bugger, reckon you've got the ears of a wombat if you think I couldn’t snag a good yarn through the pub ruckus.
Mate, my hearing’s sharper than a sheila’s eye at a shoe sale. As for the poison pill palaver, just because you’ve got a memory like a sieve doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t hang onto a good story longer than a coldie in the desert.
Self-medicating? Mate, the only thing I’m overdosing on is the sheer entertainment of watching suits try to dance around each other like kangaroos in a boxing match. It’s better than any telly drama, I'll give you that.
So, let’s not get your budgie smugglers in a twist,
Micko. Next time, join in on the banter instead of chucking a wobbly. Who knows, you might just enjoy the spectacle of the corporate circus as much as I do.
And if you ever doubt the ol’ ears again, just remember, I could hear a flea cough in a cyclone!
Oh and remember, let’s not get your budgie smugglers in a twist, ahhahhaaagaga
(20min delay)