When you use a developing nation as your personal party toilet, you have to expect the occasional splashback of unpleasantness.
Donna is barking mad over reports Balinese dog meat vendors are serving dog meat out of dog meat carts in a country that is known for serving dog meat.
Since when did Donna need to educate herself as a tourist visiting a sovereign nation with its own set of normative cuisinal values? Surely not in North Rockingham, the land where she is the “boss”, the land where she seeks to squeeze the impoverished for every discount she can get.
“Oi but nahhh,” she says to a friend who suggests she is being entitled, “they served me hubby satay on the beach, they done served him dog!”
Far out, valid point. It’s almost like you would buy chicken skewers off some guy who walked up to you on Rockingham Beach ay? Not to mention her hubby and his mates had reached the highest level of intoxication and were “forgetting what chicken looks and tastes like-drunk”.
It is not surprising that Donna is experiencing culture shock. Her Jack Russells are her “fur babies”. She throws parties for them. She lets them lick her mouth. She kinda believes they should be given the same rights as a white person in this country. Hey, they grew here, you flew here champ.
Accordingly, she pulls out the only weapon in her dog-meat fighting arsenal: an empty threat to boycott Bali. See, she is labouring under the belief that the Balinese give a shit that she will stop gracing their shores with her thunderous arse.
She takes to social media like a freshly released DMX at a Snapchat dog-filter brothel, Don gone give it to ya:
“OIIII!!! These peeple are monsters.. Imagine eating little BArksy and Troy 🙁 🙁 🙁 🙁 no soul!!!! So join me and boycot them dogmunchers!!! Jus as TAX TIME COMING UP! HA HA!!! Who looks stoopid now baliboycot#”
Yeahhhh, still you Donna, you cage-egg eating barbarian. The thought of a horde of taxed up bogans descending upon Kuta in July is enough to make any living creature lust for the sweet release of a cyanide-tainted fish head.
She copy & pastes her international justice movement on every Bali forum she can find. She is frothing like a rabies-ridden street dog. In fact, a Balinese dog-meat man probably thinks she’s nuttier than a squirrel at the Snickers factory scat party.
Ultimately, if you want to fuck with the world, you can’t put a paper bag over its head. If you can’t handle it at its dog meatiest, you don’t deserve it at its Bintangest.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?