Downunderworld E-Book

Christopher Snowden-Smith

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 235

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Downunderworld is a coming of age and crime story based on real events set in Sydney, Australia during the 1980s. It follows seven teenagers that quickly evolve from boys to men in unusual circumstances. It's funny, graphic and is a cross between Breaking Bad and Pulp Fiction with a shocking twist at the end. It is not the stereotypical view of Australia.

Leseprobe

Downunderworld

TitelseiteCopyright

For Andrea & Manfred

This is a true account by someone who was there.

The names of the innocent have been changed.

The names of the guilty remain intact, as they are all dead.

Cover Illustration: Tine Witt

Chapter 1 

He stared at the ceiling of his prison hospital bed in Sydney’s Long Bay jail counting down the minutes. He had no regrets whatsoever.

Tuesday 2nd February 1981

Penshurst Marist Brothers High School, Sydney, Australia.

Luxy walked into his first day of high school about 10 minutes late.

The entire school listened attentively to the opening address of the new principal Brother Skillet as he barked out the school mantra that he was determined everyone should follow that year.

“School spirit and pride in appearance is of paramount importance at Marist Brothers!” Skillet announced.

Those words would be forever burned into everyone’s memory. Brother Skillet wore the traditional Marist Brothers garb. A white full-length robe held together with a black tassel and capped off with a long crucifix that hung down to his belly button.

He had white hair and a red face riddled with pockmarks from years of indulging in alter wine. As Luxy entered the red-bricked front gates of the school, all 560 students glanced left as their attention drifted from Brother Skillet and focused on him. In what seemed a slow-motion footy replay all the kids simultaneously burst into raucous laughter. 

Except of course Brother Skillet and a tubby little man with a Hitler haircut.

Robert ‘Dolly’ Dunn.

As Bob ‘Dolly’ Dunn looked out into the sea of students he didn’t see future leaders, businessmen, doctors, architects, small business owners, plumbers, builders, tradesmen, accountants and the like. No, he saw opportunity.

Bob ‘Dolly’ Dunn, much like Australia in the 1980s had matured, although in completely opposite directions. 

Australia had come a long way since federation some 80 years prior. It had overcome two world wars and was the only country in the world not to shed a drop of blood when it was proclaimed a democracy in 1901. With a population a quarter of Britain and twenty-six times the geographical size, Australia had not only shaken the shackles of British colonial rule, it had been settled and rapidly developed into a first world country, on the surface at least.

Societal attitudes hadn’t kept pace with economic development. Certain subjects were taboo and never discussed openly at social gatherings or in the media.

Australia was a predominantly white male mates-driven beer culture with very conservative views prevailing across the spectrum of society. The government and indeed most people in general however hadn’t yet linked the devastating effects of alcohol abuse that was at the heart of domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault, 70% of incarceration, most cancers and health related problems that took a heavy toll on families and the public purse.

Like most cool kids his age Luxy had just started surfing, but unfortunately, he didn’t fit the blond stereotype as his hair was very dark brown. To start the summer in a socially acceptable position Luxy was decked out with all the necessary surf brands and accessories: New Sky twin fin surfboard, pink Billabong board shorts, blue Rip Curl Aggrolite wetsuit and a pair of Bolle Irex 100 sunglasses. The rest of the look was honed to a tee as he hoped to mimic his childhood surfing heroes. Shaun Thompson, Tom Curren, Wayne ‘Rabbit’ Bartholomew, Mark Richards, Tom Carroll, Gary Green, Marko Occhilupo, Simon Anderson or the master of the 360-degree turn, the legendary South African Martin Potter. 

Luxy’s mother popped up to Franklins Supermarket in Riverwood to grab some lamb chops for his dad to throw on the barbecue that evening at the outset of summer and the school holidays in early December 1980.

Spotting a window of opportunity Luxy went to the bathroom opened a tube of peroxide and stroked it across his brown locks. Nothing!

He went outside, climbed up onto the wooden decking and plunged into the chlorinated above ground pool, got out, looked into the reflection of his sisters’ window and to his complete satisfaction his hair had transformed into mixture of blond, orange and dark brown. His mum came home and cried. Later his dad just shook his head in disgust and mumbled ‘bloody idiot’ as this big initiative was not normal for a 12-year-old boy in Sydney, Australia in those days.

So, as the beginning of the school term loomed Luxy had to get his hair dyed back to a darkish brown. Penshurst Marist Brothers was a conservative Catholic school after all. On every class blackboard and on every page of their exercise books was written ‘AMDG’, an acronym forAll My Deeds to God.

One hundred dollars later, Luxy and his mum left the salon in Hurstville and order was seemingly restored, but fluorescent lights in a hairdresser were no match for the blazing Sydney summer sun so as Luxy entered his new high school absolutely everyone saw what no one else had previously noticed.

Olive green hair!

Naturally, Luxy took this incredible humiliation in his stride, flashed a peace sign and proceeded directly towards the rows of wooden seats that faced Skillet and Dunn. Well, that was the intention anyway. Brother Skillet’s faced turned Ferrari red and his beady little blue eyes burned in Luxy’s direction.

“You! To the Prep Room!” Skillet screeched.

Little did he know it then, the Prep Room was a bastion of evil that housed a vast array of horrible secrets. The Prep Room was fittingly located in the science department and it was also where the later notorious Bob ‘Dolly’ Dunn metered out punishments.

Namely six cuts of the best right across an open palm by ‘Big Bertha’, a lacquered bamboo cane.

Welcome to high school Luxy.

As Luxy waited outside the Prep Room for his punishment, Dunn’s first thought was to try and take advantage of this situation and attempt to see if the young pert Luxy could be ‘cultivated and harvested’. After assembly had finished Dunn walked past Luxy into the Prep Room and called him into the small room that sat between the chemistry and physics classrooms.

“You have an option here; you can take six cuts of the cane or you can sit here with me after school and I can fill you in on the wonders of biology.” Dunn said.

“Wonders of biology? Fuck that!” Luxy thought to himself.

The 12-year-old Luxy could sense something really dodgy with that offer.

“No thanks sir, I’ll take the cane.” Luxy said with a smart-ass smirk that conveyed to Dunn he had failed in his quest.

He could immediately see Dunn’s face turn from one of hope and cordiality to one of hatred and the embarrassment of rejection.

No way Luxy could be flipped, cultivated and harvested.

Luxy took the pain of the six cuts of the bamboo cane across his fingers as any sign of distress or even a mild wince would have meant defeat and there was no way in hell that Luxy would submit to a muppet like Dunn.

A little fat man topping 5”5 on a good day with his shoe lifts in. Dunn constantly held a wry smile but, on this occasion, and with Luxy’s first encounter with Dunn he noticed something else. A fierce hatred and sadistic pleasure in Bob Dunn’s eyes as brought down the cuts of the cane. That look was something he’d never seen in anyone in his 12 years of living. Bob ‘Dolly’ Dunn as he was later referred to by the media was a sadistic little fucker.

It’s all in the eyes.

Whilst all the teachers had resided in the main teachers’ staff room the three science teachers had their own abode in a separate building.

Mr Dunn, Mr O’Connell and Mr Allen called the Prep Room theirs and theirs only. Luxy also noticed that all the other teachers and brothers had a look in their eyes that was very charismatic but also deeply unsettling.

People think kids are oblivious to danger when in fact the ability to sense danger is a natural instinct. Danger and threats can take many forms and sometimes it’s just an indescribable gut feeling that something isn’t right with someone or somewhere. Or both.

The first day was a mixture of hilarity, misguided surf style, mild embarrassment, rejection and searing pain. 

Chapter 2 

Midnight Oil, Madness, INXS, ACDC, The Hoodoo Gurus, Echo and the Bunnymen, Howard Jones, Scritti Politti, Talking Heads, The Radiators, Hunters & Collectors and Crowded House were barking out surfing anthems at will. This was the golden age of surfing in Australia accompanied by eric surf anthems.

Luxy pulled off his new Sony Walkman as a spit ball hit the back of his head on the number 29 school bus. ‘Pav’ as he was known was a wild boy, had absolutely no fear and was built like a brick shit-house. He could easily thump three or four older kids in one sitting. For these reasons Pav was a natural choice as Luxy’s best friend plus he lived around the corner right on Salt Pan Creek in Peakhurst. Pav had strawberry blond hair and a million freckles.

To make him angry Luxy would just call him ‘blood nut’, and then run. The one hundred or so boys in year seven were a small reflection of pre-pubescent society as a whole; Nerds, Surfers, Rockabillies, Ska boys, Jocks, Bills, Kooks, Chinks, Westies and the Wogs. 

Surfers - top of the social order and referred to anyone who looked the part and could surf well. It normally took a year of surfing three to four times a week to get anywhere near decent. That involved surfing very well in all conditions and being able to pull off the manoeuvres like the roundhouse cut-back, snap re-entry, Floater, late take-off and an ability to navigate crystal cylinders. They preferably had blond hair but failing that, an awesome tan. A Seiko divers watch with a velcro waterproof band was the essential timepiece of the day.

They wore anything fluorescent and usually Quiksilver, Billabong, Hot Tuna, Piping Hot, Rip Curl and O’Neill surf brands. They were sixth generation Australians and lived in the Sutherland or St. George Shires, the Eastern Suburbs or Northern Beaches of Sydney. They listened to Midnight Oil, Hunters & Collectors, Talking Heads, David Bowie, REM, The Cockroaches and New Order.

Nerds - usually had no style, acne, loved computers and games like Donkey Kong and chess. They usually excelled academically, were very awkward and shit scared of everything. They liked Abba, Sherbet and Olivia Newton-John. Most would go on to be tech gurus motivated to be bosses to seek revenge for the treatment they would receive in their formative years.

Rockabillies - sideburns, wore flannel-let shirts and King Gee shorts, used gel and were into Elvis Presley and Shakin Stevens.

Ska Boys - flat top haircuts, Doc Martins, white Polo shirts and red and black tartan skin-tight jeans. They loved Madness, The Specials and The All-nighters.

Jocks - sport, sport and sport - Cricket, Soccer and tennis prevailed. They were usually ass-kissers that had haircuts and no discernible fashion sense.

Bills & Kooks - try hards of the highest order. They couldn’t surf to save themselves, so they gave up and bought a boogie board. This group would suffer the brunt of surfers’ scorn as they just got in the way and had given up on surfing on surfboards whilst pretending to be surfers. 

Westies - people from western Sydney. They wore black Jim Beam or ACDC t-shirts, black Levi’s jeans, had long oily hair and were noticeably stoned most of the time. They usually had horrible acne from being weaned on Coca-Cola and their icons were anyone who drove, or raced Holden V8 Commodores or Ford V8 Falcons pimped with mag wheels and fluffy dice donning the rear-view mirror. They didn’t know shit from clay and were usually from the bottom of the socioeconomic spectrum. They lived and thrived in places like Parramatta and Blacktown in Sydney’s Western suburbs. They were into heavy metal music like Cold Chisel, ACDC and Australian Crawl. They were truly hated and the antithesis of everything surfers stood for. 

Wogs - anyone whose parents weren’t born in Australia and were usually Italians, Greeks or eastern or southern Europeans, but basically anyone who wasn’t a white Australian. They didn’t wear deodorant and were usually covered in black hair. They were first to sport bum fluff around their jaws and their parents usually ran the local fruit shop.

Chinks - Asians. Their parents usually ran the local Chinese restaurant. They were few and far between and didn’t register on any radar.

As the days of summer progressed everyone melted into destined peer groups. The surfers ruled of course as that segment of society was revered by every young boys primary target audience - girls.

Most choices the boys made were driven by this fantastic new horny feeling fuelled by testosterone along with the need to stand out in the crowd. St. Joseph’s Catholic girls’ school was down the road and there were hundreds of them. Ripe and ready to go.

This was a forbidden city of unexplored pleasures. The boys and girls first officially encountered each other at the weekly ballroom dancing class on Tuesday mornings in the local scout hall. Luxy, Pav, Eags, Ted, Marty, Fitz and Legs were all eager to impress the five or six hotties they had identified at the bus stop prior to the first dance lesson. That was made significantly harder though as ‘The Magnificent Seven’ as they called themselves, got incredibly stoned on high grade marijuana in the lane on the way to the dance lesson.

They packed cones and sucked them down one by one.

“Whoa, Jesus this is seriously strong shit!” Pav said.

They all chipped in and bought a $50 bag of skunk from Sid Snot, the local drug dealer. The chance of a good first impression was absolute zero.

“Fuck, who’s got the eye drops?” Eags said.

In the excitement leading up to getting ripped no one remembered the one thing that may have saved their hides. 

Have a dance and change partners. Seemed simple enough but learning the Foxtrot turned out to be exceptionally difficult with bloodshot eyes coupled with uncontrollable giggling whilst swaying under the green clouds of marijuana. An idiot or even a teacher was able to identify that The Magnificent Seven were ripped out of their minds.

Forget about two left feet, they had none.

“Luxy! Get out!” “You too Pav!” Bob Dunn yelled at the top of his lungs. Busted. “Why just us and the not the other five clowns in our posse?” they thought.

Straight after the lesson Bob Dunn frog-marched them into Brother Skillet’s office, still monstrously stoned. Dunn left as they stood in front of an empty desk in an empty office staring at Jesus on the crucifix on the wall. An ominous sign possibly?

Ten minutes passed and they were losing the mind game.

Brother Skillet entered. “Why are your eyes so red?” he said calmly, too calmly.

Luxy immediately answered “We went for a surf down at Cronulla Beach this morning and it was mega salty.”

“Address me as Brother you little smart arse!” he yelled.

“Yes Broder.” Pav said, just to piss him off. Not a smart move strategically Pav.

Brother Skillet promptly stood up walked around his desk and slapped Pav across the ears.

“What did you say?” “Yes Brother.” Pav said, feigning pain when in reality Pav could have been hit with a piece of 4 x 2 wood and still not hit the deck.

“It’s true Brother.” Luxy said.

They knew there was no physical evidence and the only way the truth would come out would be if they broke under the cross-examination.

Fuck that.

Expulsion wasn’t an option, so they reached a stalemate. Brother Skillet went for the more gratifying option of six cuts of the cane and sent them up to the Prep Room. Cool. Got away with that.

They ascended up the stairs and waited outside the Prep Room. They could hear some muffled voices and sounds but couldn’t quite make out the content of the conversation. Mr Allen, Mr O’Connell and Mr Dunn were inside talking and doing something?

Mr O’Connell taught physics and he was also the local scoutmaster. Probably in his mid-thirties, bright red hair, NASA eyeglasses, wore a white lab coat and it was common knowledge that he still lived with his mummy. What a knob.

Mr Allen was of a darker complexion and he became famous in the school for throwing his car keys at your face if you angered him. He also always smelt like urine and wore ridiculously tight beige coloured chinos with the fly always teetering at half-mast. He stalked the rows of desks in his biology classes sharing his musk. Ten or so years later Mr Allen would be found with his throat slashed lying naked in a Kings Cross bathtub. The only clue about the perpetrator was a smiley face left written on the bathroom cabinet mirror, written in red lipstick.

The culprit was never caught although the cops had their suspicions, as a gay murder wasn’t at the top of their list of crimes to solve as most of the cops in Sydney were homophobic, lazy fat drunks on the take. Suffice to say Luxy, Pav and the rest of The Magnificent Seven despised these three ‘men’ intensely. They represented everything that The Magnificent Seven hated: Cowardice and abusing their positions of momentary power against defenceless and subordinate young boys.

Chapter 3

Carrot and stick.

Adam & Michael were invited to the Prep Room at lunchtime for a discussion on their results in the mid-term exams.

Both had received accolades from the three science teachers for their outstanding results, that were fudged, big-time.

Both had, amazingly, scored top marks and it was the first time they had come first in anything in their lives. They were elated as being average they thought was their destiny. Bang. They weren’t average at all and in the one subject they adored. Science.

Happy days mate!

Both Adam & Michael loved science. Dunn, O’Connell & the other disgusting predator Allen were only too aware of their revered positions in the eyes of the aspiring scientists. Michael & Adam were called into the Prep Room and told they had been selected to join the secret science club. This would enable them to score dux like marks, guaranteed for the next four years. The grooming strategy had been enacted and deployed with military precision.

They took the bait hook, line and sinker.

“Adam and Michael, you are both very talented and very intelligent young boys. We have noticed your flare for science, and we would like to invite you to the Prep Room for study sessions so you can both stay at the top of the class and keep your parents as proud of you as we are!!” said the master pervert Bob ‘Dolly’ Dunn. “But you obviously cannot succeed without a special secret study session with us twice a week. These sessions must remain a secret or we will have to fail you because you are getting something that no one else is. We don’t want anything for our time but at the end of the sessions you will need to give all of us a massage, because teaching you during our lunchtimes is very tiring. Do you agree?” said Dunn.

“Yes!” was their enthusiastic response.

Boom. Groomed.

The boys completed the secret science lesson that consisted of the stuff they had just been taught with a few extra details. That lasted 20 minutes. The lunch hour was fifty minutes. The remaining 30 minutes of the first session were attempts to fend off Bob Dunn.

The door of the Prep Room swung open and Adam walked out with Michael. Both had a flustered look on their faces but Luxy and Pav didn’t hear the bamboo cane cut through the air, so suffice to say they were somewhat perplexed. These two lads would later constantly receive top marks in the three scientific disciplines and were known to all as the ‘Smurfs’.

During recess and lunchtime, they would usually retreat to the back of the sports oval near the long jump pit, next to the train tracks and play with, yep, Smurfs.

Pav and Luxy were called into the Prep Room. Physical punishment sucked but they could handle it. Everyone left the room except Bob Dunn as his role as head of science department was to lead and punish. Smiling when getting caned is difficult to say the least, but entirely worth it if they could manage to piss off the executioner.

Smile they did and pissed off was a mild way if describing Bob Dunn’s demeanour.

That wasn’t what pissed Dunn off though. He now had confirmation that Luxy and Pav were too strong in mind and body and were completely ungroomable. It was a chilly morning in Sydney, so a few hours post-caning they regained the feeling in their hands and began to plot their revenge.

Australian culture dictates that you should not only get even but also fuck up your adversary with a bonus, so the chance of further retribution diminishes. Plus delivering justice feels awesome.

The weekend was fast approaching and The Magnificent Seven were buzzing. Surfing, smoking, eating hot chips and potato scallops, the smell of surfboard wax, Midnight Oil’s cracking tune ‘Power and the Passion’ blaring on the beatbox and the blue light disco on Saturday night. It just doesn’t get any better than that! 

Luxy slept at Pav’s and Pav slept at Luxy’s.

Beat the system again.

A perfect opportunity presented itself to try alcohol and get pissed. Pav’s older brother bought them a goony of wine, which tasted as good as it sounds, and the desired effect was achieved. They sat around in Pav’s older brother’s granny flat in secret talking shit, enjoying an incredible buzz and planning the rest of weekend. Revenge, partying, surf manoeuvres and which chicks they thought might be at the beach the next day. After a few hours and completely hammered they ventured up the driveway and onto the street. A genius decision was made to break the windows of a wog’s car that lived down the road. Loud, drunk and with police on the way they disappeared back down the driveway into anonymity.

First time drunk. Not a bad effort.

They weren’t bad kids just a bit bored and in dire need of adventure and fun. They had never broken any laws, actually they did, quite a few small ones with efficient regularity but in a Robin Hoodesque way. They theorised.

After all, if you didn’t surf you were an idiot and fair game. Guilt therefore wasn’t a factor in the equation. Waking up that next Saturday morning wasn’t easy and they hoped their first hangover would quickly dissipate in the sun and surf of Cronulla Beach.

The Magnificent Seven met at the beach after a short train ride, ridiculed each other mercilessly, waxed their surfboards and hit Cronulla Point where a fierce right-hander wave broke onto sharp rocks. Fall off on the take-off and they were seriously fucked.

“Hey Eags give us a smoke ya poof.” quipped Luxy.

“Fuck off and buy your own turd breath!” Eags retorted.

They were new to most things and smoking Winfield Reds or Winnie Reds as they were known, was the brand of choice as they packed a punch and none other than Paul Hogan heavily advocated them.

Paul Hogan was the ultimate Aussie mate and the hero of the time. The best cigarette was just after surfing, no doubt. Surfing was their world and they absolutely loved every aspect of it.

“Pav, do ya reckon surfing is better than sex?” Luxy asked.

“Fuck yeah, don’t be a fuckin’ loser!” Pav said.

They had of course limited surfing experience and no sexual conquests, so bullshitting was the order of the day.

Surfing taught them all they needed to know about life.

Timing, balance, making a decision, looking out for a wave and getting it before anyone else, an appreciation of nature, exercise and most importantly - knowing when to leave.

Sydney in those days was survival of the fittest. There weren’t any of the social constraints that would develop in the 90s. Things like drunk driving, driving without seatbelts, smoking anywhere you wanted were all commonplace.

Weakness was the enemy, along with anyone who didn’t fit into their social group. In other words, surfers’ only and not just idiots that wore surf brands. You had to surf well as that was a massive component in determining their pecking order in the pack.

As Saturday afternoon wore on they caught the train back to Mortdale, lit cigarettes and smoked them right in the carriage in front of tutting old ladies. Fuck buying train tickets. They just waited for the ticket collector to retreat back into his office and stroll on through the gates. Why pay for something as inane as a train ticket when that money could be used to buy pot and beer before the blue light disco that evening at Hurstville town hall.

Priorities.

The NSW Police association ran the blue light disco so the irony of their plans for the disco wasn’t lost on any of them. Let the games begin.

The game was simple.

Meet at the local park. Get someone to buy beers from the local bottleo, drink ‘em down in record time then get into the disco before the effect really hit. Do your best dance moves and try to copy the dance style of the Midnight Oil lead singer Peter Garrett.

A legend in their eyes. A rock star, surfer and barrister.

What a cool dude.

Power and the Passion – Midnight Oil

People, wasting away in paradiseGoing backward, once in a whileMoving ahead, falling behindWhat do you believe, what do you believeWhat do you believe is trueNothing they say makes a difference this wayNothing they say will do

Take all the trouble that you can affordAt least you won't have time to be bored

Oh the power and the passion, oh the temper of the timeOh the power and the passion

Sometimes you've got to take the hardest line

Sun burnt faces around, with skin so brownSmiling zinc cream and crowds, Sundays the beach never a cloudBreathing eucalypti, pushing panel vansStuff and munch junk foodLaughing at the truth, 'cause Gough was tough till he hit the roughUncle Sam and John were quite enough

Too much of sunshine too much of skyIt's enough to make you want to cry

Oh the power

I see buildings, clothing the sky, in paradiseSydney, nights are warmDaytime telly, blue rinse dawnDad's so bad he lives in the pub, it's a underarms and football clubsFlat chat, Pine Gap, in every home a Big MacAnd no one goes outback, that's thatYou take what you get and get what you pleaseIt's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees

Oh the power

Songwriters: James Moginie / Martin Rotsey / Peter Garrett / Peter Gifford / Robert Hirst. Power and the Passion lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Shame he later turned out to be just another incompetent politician motivated by power and little else. Aren’t they all? He fought it for a while but it’s virtually impossible to be cool if you’re a politician.

Eventually after failing miserably as a government minister for the environment in the 2000s and falling for then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s bullshit he returned to the stage.

Peter Garrett sold out everything everyone thought he stood for. Better late than never but power, fame, greed and ego were mainly to blame for his initial demise. The usual culprits.

These people just don’t realise that good normal folks know they are useless fuckwits that will be quickly forgotten. All that cool equity in the bank, fighting for aboriginal rights, against US military bases in Australia, atomic testing in the Australian outback and the Pacific Ocean. Excellent causes just fucked up with one idiotic decision to chase power at the expense of morality.

The only exception to the rule was the only decent politician to have lived - Bob Hawke the Australian Prime Minister of the day.

There have been very few decent and good politicians but ‘cool’ is another story and was the pinnacle of life.

Hawke was revered because he won a Rhodes scholarship to Oxford University where he proceeded to break the world-record for necking a yard glass of beer in 11 seconds. So, he could down a beer super quickly at one of the world’s best universities that he didn’t even have to pay for! Props to you mate!

The topper was in 1983 when Australia II, captained by John Bertrand beat out the Americans and Dennis Connor to secure Australia’s first win in 130 years in the America’s Cup Yacht race. Bob Hawke declared on the day that any boss that sacked a worker for not a turning up was a bum. Legend. 

It was the 80s and greed was good. And greedy they were.

The game at the blue light disco consisted of tongue kissing as many girls as you could by stumps at 11pm. Girls were nothing more than a temporary accessory. The hard part was trying to convince them that they were boyfriend material in order to get what they wanted so they could in turn score valuable social points within the realms of The Magnificent Seven.

Competition was fierce but they were completely up for it. Luxy came out on top that night with a grand total of six confirmed kills. Simone, Amanda, Christine, Julie, Kate and he forgot the name of the last one. His modus operandi followed the same pattern. He would dance with a girl, head over to the chairs, sit down kiss and then to the absolute bemusement of the girl get up and leave and disappear into a sea of flashing lights, bad hair styles, fluorescent clothing and the latest hits by Depeche Mode and Kraftwerk.

The great escape could only happen after another member of The Magnificent Seven had witnessed the stud like act. When the disco finished eye drops were applied and minties were eaten to kill the beer and cigarette breath. The parents arrived and everybody did their level best to act straight on the way home. Sunday was filled with recounting the evening and surfing. Every other weekend was similar and it was unbelievably awesome.

Year 7 and 1981 was drawing to an end and summer holidays were just around the corner. Luxy was mostly a straight A student. He put the work in at the right times. Just before exams he behaved perfectly in class as he knew teachers would write their behavioural assessments for the year after correcting the exams.

Timing is everything.