The REAL Australia sleeps alone. It fishes in lakes in holey boats. Eats steaks with flies in the backyard bush lands of the Nullarbor. The REAL Australia smokes Winfield reds and doesn’t like strangers. It struggles with sheep and shears fifty of em` a day. It drinks tea without sugar. The REAL Australia breaths smoke – fills its boots with woollen socks – spits chunky yellow snot. I’m a phoney. Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Gloom Cupboard - Ben Smith
The REAL Australia sleeps alone. It fishes in lakes in holey boats. Eats steaks with flies in the backyard bush lands of the Nullarbor. The REAL Australia smokes Winfield reds and doesn’t like strangers. It struggles with sheep and shears fifty of em` a day. It drinks tea without sugar. The REAL Australia breaths smoke – fills its boots with woollen socks – spits chunky yellow snot. I’m a phoney. 
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"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.
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