Madame

Sporty.

Madame travels. Internationally.

The good thing about being compact is being able to fit in your travel duffel.

What’s that Madame? You want to come out?

I’ll bet you do, you saucy little bint.

Bert

General disapproval of your lifestyle.

Bert doesn’t like you.

It could be your clothes, your race or your attitude.

Or it could be that bloody hippy march you went to in ’92.

Bert knows the one.

You can expect some snide remarks in your direction down at the club over a few whiskeys tonight.

At a fucking minimum.

Gunther

Girl scout cookies?

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Fucking Gunther, that’s fucking who.

You don’t give a donation to his cause, you know you are gonna get rolled.

Roger

First class.

It ain’t all about being a player.

Take Roger here, for example.

He likes to write his name on boxes, attach a stamp and then hop on in.

Where have you arrived now Roger? No carpet?

Get the fuck.

Vince

Notorious.

You like Tupac? Don’t tell Vince. That boy is east side till he die.

If he even hears you talking about Thug Life there is going to be a motherfucking rumble.

Top down, chrome spinning.

P.I.M.P

Bravius

Shot bro.

When I see Bravius here on the streets of Fitzroy I know he respects me, because he straight up shows it to my face.

One hand, knuckles, double slap.

As street as you fucking like.

Rita

Leaving early? Forget about it.

Got a secret? Don’t tell Rita. That bitch just loves to gossip.

One time I told her about Bob from accounts taking the VP’s parking space and she straight up turned around and told Terry.

Cold as ice.

Pity about your promotion, Bob. Rita smashed you hard.

Honce

You'll shit yourself every time.

Meet Honce. He’s a real joker.

Often you’ll be walking round the house and he’ll jump out from behind some cushions all like a fucking raptor.

He’s not a raptor though.

Oh dear Honce, what a complete crack up.