16 July 2008 – West Manhattan
In her condominium in Chelsea, the dingo sits at her PC. She is holding the mouse in her hand, studying it closely. She puts the mouse down and begins bashing loudly on the keyboard.
Dingo: Mhuuuuum!
Dingomum: Dahling, knot sew lowd! Ur brutha hadd a layte nite at werk.
Dingo: (rolling her eyes) Whee bothe noe thatt Mattspew duznt werk, mumm. We bothe noe thatt hee smoozes, um, smuzes, oh, phukit, he livs off mye gud will. Heel neva amount tu aniethyng.
Dingomum: Theers noe need tu bee sew harshe Randa. Hee iz ur brutha afta all.
Dingo: (shrugging her shoulders) Eye keepe on telling u thatt u shood hav stopped afta me. Eye dont want tu tork about Mattspew aniemoor, eye want tu tork about mee. Itz all about mee, rememba.
Dingomum: Wot iz itt that u want tu tork about dahling?
Dingo: Eye cant mayk thiss bluddy computa werk. I’m mooving thee possum around lyke u doo, butt nuthing iz happning.
Dingomum: Thee possum? Wot r u torking about?
Dingo: Thee possum, u noe? I rememba thatts wot itz called because wee used tu hav trubble with possums on thee farm bak home. And now eyem havving trubble with thee dam thinge heer in Nu Yawk.
Dingomum: Didd u turn thee elektrissitee on?
Dingo: Of cawse eye did. Itz the bluddy possum that wont werk. Looke!
The dingo places her hand on what she refers to as the possum and moves it around, trying to bring life to the PC.
Dingomum: Dahling, thatz thee powa adapta. (The dingo stares at her blankly) U noe. The elektrissitee runns from thee powa poynt, thru thee powa adapta and intu the computa. And eye stihl dont undastande y ur calling it a possum.
Dingo: (sighing heavily as if her mother is the most stupid person ever) Eye told u mum, itz because wee had sew mutch trubble on thee farme with them.
Dingomum: Eye think u meen a mouse.
Dingo: (screams in alarm and jumps up on her chair) Mouse?! Where? Where didd u see thee mouse?
Dingomum: Noe dahling, wee hadd trubble with myce on thee farme. Itz a mouse that u uze to controll thee computa. Looke, thiss iz a mouse.
Dingomum picks up the wireless mouse and shows it to her dawta daughter.
Dingomum: U sea dahling? Thiss iz the mouse.
Dingo: (looking more confused that usual) Eye thawt that woz thee googul.
Dingomum: Noe, googul iz wot wee uze wen we’re lookinge fore inforemashion about u.
Dingo: Sew howe doez this googul bloke noe all thiss stuff about me?
Dingomum: (seeing that she is wasting her breath trying to explain the basics of the internet to her rocket scientist daughter) Howe about u logg in, and then eyell googul ur nayme. It’ll bee eazia that waye.
The dingo logs in and stuffs up her password. After she enters it again she is instructed to press any key to continue.
Dingomum: (wondering what Randa is waiting for) Wot r u wayting fore?
Dingo: Where iz thee ani keye that eye have to press to kontinyu?
Therese Kerr reaches towards the keyboard and presses a random key, wondering as she’s doing it, how it is that her daughter is literally as dumb as a stick.
Dingo: Sew “K” iz thee ani keye? Y dont they wryte ani keye on it then? (Taking another look at the “K” key) Eye guess there’s nott reely enuf spayce tu fit ani keye on that littel butten, iz there?
Dingomum sighs softly and opens up googul google and types her daughters name into the search field. Thousands of results are displayed and it doesn’t take long before the dingo stumbles across the In Touch article.
Dingo: (screaming) Noooooo! Oh nooooo! Phuck! Phuck! Muuuuuuhm!!!
Dingomum: Randa, hunny, wotz rong?
Dingo: Thiss! Looke at thiss artikle! Sum jurnaliste at Inn Tutch must have seen mee and Brandoil on the weakend.
Dingomum leans over her daughter’s shoulder and reads the article.
Dingomum: Oh Randa! On noe! Thiss meens that yur kontrakt iz voyded. Wot r wee gunna doo now?
Dingobro: (looking tired and tousled) Y r u screeming Randa? Iz Brandoil here?
Dingo: Mattspew, look at thiss artikle! Mye lyfe mite as well bee ova.
Dingobro: R u torking about the Inn Tutch storey? Eyev alreddy seen thatt.
Dingo: Butt, itz not trew. None of itz trew. Eye only had dinna with Brandoil and then wee dansed a bitt at thee clubz.
Dingobro: (regarding his sister from under a raised eyebrow) Butt it iz trew Randa. I noe that itz trew.
Dingo: Howe cood u noe that itz trew? Eye don’t beleev u. Thee jurnaliste iz lying. Where r thee piktures to proov it?
Dingobro: Eye noe because eye woz there. Eye saw u. Eye saw the reporta and eye broak hiz camera, otherwize there wood bee photos and there wood be noe kwestion that ur fayk romance with thee ghey phyrate is ova.
Dingo: Ur lying. U weren’t there.
Dingobro: Wazn’t eye? Lett mee show u sumthing.
Mattspew flips his phone open and opens up his photos folder. He hold his phone out to his sister and shows her, one by one, all the photos he took of her and Brandoil Davis at 10ak and The Beatrice Inn.
Dingobro: Theese r the sorts of piktures thatt cood have bean all ova the intanet. Butt thanks tu mee, theer not. The artikle is damaging tho. Wee need to address the rumer strait away.
Dingomum: Howe doo wee do that?
Dingobro: Wee kontakt Sydnee Konfidenshull. They will lissen tu anithinge wee say. And theyll printe anithinge wee say.
Dingobro moves towards the telephone (he won’t use his mobile phone because the cost of an international call will be too much for him to bear financially seeing as how he spent so much of his salary on cabs on Saturday night) and dials the Daily Telegraph. He remembers the phone number off the top of his head.
He identifies himself and is immediately transferred through to Sydney Confidential. He conferences his mother in to the call as well.
Daily Telegraph: Sydney Confidential. G’day Mattspew. To what do we owe the honour of this call?
Dingobro: G’day Syd, mye mutha and eye wanted to address the visci, um, vish, oh phukit! Wee want to tork to u about that stewpid storey about Randa and Orelando being broken upp.
DT: Oh yeah, the one in In Touch magazine. Please tell me it isn’t so? You know how much we love Randa. And everytime we mention her name with Orlando our sales go way up and we get mad blog hittage! We can’t let Orlando get away.
Dingobro: Well, of corse itz not trew. Thee reporta is mastik, mistak, rong about wot hee saw. Randa and Brandoil are old freends and they simply had dinna togetha and then danced a bitt at thee clubz. There was nuthing moor tu itt than thatt.
Dingomum: The kidz r moor in luv than eva befour, Syd. Eyev neva seen them happyer. Randa’s going tu Paris next weeke fore werk and Orelando iz meeting her there four a bitt of a romantik getaway. Eye just kant beleev the sort of rubbishe that reportas wryte theese dayz, just to sell a magazeen or newzpaper. Itz scandy, scandol, itz just rong!
DT: Don’t worry guys, it’ll be okay. You’ve given us some inside information so we’ll get the truth out there straight away. Our article refuting the scuttlebutt in In Touch will be on the net in no time flat. Thanks for calling and letting us know. Say hi to Randa for us.
The dingo, dingomum and dingobro all crowd around the PC waiting for the Daily Telegraph article to hit the net. And sure enough within about 15 minutes it’s there.
The dingo opens the link and the three of them read what the Telegraph has written.
The dingo and dingomum breathe a sigh of relief in stereo.
Dingo: Thatz betta. Iff Whorelando’s peeple eva found out about wot happned, eyed be dedd in thee water. Eye think eyem going tu gett away with thiss wun. Thank Ghod.
Dingobro waits patiently until dingomum excuses herself to do some bookwork or whatever accountants do these days, then turns towards his sister.
Dingobro: U neede tu rememba wun thing sista deer.
Dingo: Wotz that?
Dingobro: I have piktures that proov u cheeted on Whorelando. That proov u broke the kontrakt. U need to bee reely nice tu mee and u need tu upp mye weekly allowance. Otherwize ur gonna wish yood neva been borne.
Dingo: U cant threaten mee.
Dingobro: I cann and I didd. So you do wot eye say, or the hole world will noe not just wot a famehore u r, but wot a hore u r fullstop. The hole world will noe wot a selfishe, lying bitch u are and how dum u r and howe untalented u r. The hole worlde Randa. Except fore the Delphi gurls and the Blogzwurth gurls, coz they alreddy noe.
Dingo: Butt, ur mye brutha.
Dingobro: (smiling) Yeah, grate izn’t it, famehore?
As the scence fades to black the dingo stares in terror at her brother. Will the Daily Telegraph story put the Brandoil rumours to bed? Will dingobro turn against his sister? What will be the outcome of the meeting with Orlando’s people and the dingo’s people? Will Orly really go to Paris for a romantic rendevous (oh, I feel ill!) with the dingo famewhore? And why is dingomum working as an accountant when she’s supposed to be a nurse?
Stay tuned for another thrilling episode of Breaking Up is Hard to Do.
Filed under: Orlando
Can I say I imagine the last part read by one of those announcers you hear on old tymey radio, with the dramatic music in the background. And that makes me happy.
This is brill. Absolutely brill.
Also, fun fact, I listen to old timey radio on Fri and Sat nights on the AM radio while at work. Old time radio is the best.
Okay, back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Daners: Great idea. This would be a great radio play. Hahahaaaa.
Dingo: Where iz thee ani keye that eye have to press to kontinyu?
Joders I think this one was my favorite chapter. THANK YOU for making me laugh. hahahahahaaa.
You guys made me think of a friend of mine who does radio announcing. He’s got that sort of voice. I can just hear him…..
“Stay tuned for another thrilling episode of Breaking Up is Hard to Do!”
I’m happy that you’re amused.
There’s a local radion station here (can’t remember what it’s called) that does old time music – I’m talking 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and some 50’s. I like listening to it when I can find it on the radio dial. It’s much more calming than some of the trendy, headbanging stuff.
I love possums. There is one living in the little shed by the water. I give him/her apple sometimes.
Th re-re language is so funny to read – it never gets old.
Does your possum come up close to get the apple? Or do you leave it outside and watch from a distance? I think possums are cute too. My brother has trouble with them getting in his roof and making heaps of noise when he’s trying to sleep. And of course when they mark their territory it stinks pretty bad.
Dingoese (thanks for coining this term, Daners) is funny to read, but it’s hard to write. It’s even harder to stop writing it once I’ve written a chapter. I can hardly remember how to spell properly!
I know the feeling about teh Dingoese, Joders. When I talk to my sgt. Ding, (who still has a thick ass Filipino accent), it’s hard for my brain to function after speaking Dingleese.
Ha- Dingoese – can you copyright it, Joders? Or at least market it as an alternative language – sort of like Ebonics, but different?
An alternative language! Hahahaha! The thing with dingoese is that when you say it out loud it sounds suspiciously like an Australian accent.
He sleeps on a little shelf during the day so I just place it near him. I think he’d be too nervous to take it from my hand.
Possum. Hee!
The dingoese is hard to read, but so so funny. This was brilliant.
Awwww, Janers that’s beautiful. How lucky we are to live so close to nature. How sad it is that we usually take these sorts of things for granted.
Thanks Icarus. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ve become fluent in dingoese over the last couple of months.
Sadly however, I’ve decided this is my last foray into the make believe world of the dingo.
wow, i hadn’t realised this was here – absolutely brilliant, have you ever thought of publishing?????? this is a book I would certainly buy!
Thanks slapparr! I’ve never thought of publishing. I’ve only been doing this to amuse myself and a few others.
Somehow I think if I tried to get this published I might find myself on some charges of slander or something similar.
I’m glad you enjoyed it though!