I’M A SHAMELESS HUSSEY… & I VOTE

Filthy Strumpet. Stroppy Cow.

It’s really quite amazing what people choose to stick to the back window of their cars.

Leaving aside the Bundy ute phenomenon for a minute (“I’d rather be passed out in a puddle of me own spew at the Chunderdoo B&S Ball”) which probably deserves its own thesis, increasingly it’s the chicks who are emblazoning their cars with some bold, personalised statements.

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I’m a Boutique Freak

Boutique Stadium? I nearly choked on my Crunchy Nut Cornflakes. I have no idea what a boutique stadium is but according to some bureau-prat on the morning radio, Melbourne needs one.

In fact, I’m not sure when we began turning ‘boutique’ into an adjective but it’s made things awkward. Institutions that were previously ‘small’ are now ‘boutique’.

‘Hang on,’ I hear the more switched-on readership cry, there’s more to ‘boutique’ than being small, there’s a design criterion — it’s small and designed.

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