After finishing school in the early 2000s, Sez managed to work her way through more scum than a bottle of CLR. She had a thing for the “bad boys” and in her hay day would love the ratchet-clout she’d get from walking around Scabs with roided up criminals.
Sure if you lined up all her boyfriends it’d look like a police line-up for a Crown Casino coward punch attack but they provided her with free gear, cosmetic procedures and Harleys to take salacious modelling shots with.
Fast forward several years and the sparkle had faded from her crystal lifestyle. She was still living in Scabs but bitterly resented her slow descent into social obscurity.
All she had to show for her party years were an addiction to cigarettes, heavy debt and a body that consists of more plastic than a sea turtle’s intestinal tract. She had blossomed into the perfect Scabs flower.
Being a long weekend, Sez is extra motivated to assemble the girls and hit the strip. She isn’t motivated by FOMO but by spite – it’s time to show all these young hoes how it’s done. How a seasoned campaigner REALLY parties.
To warm up, they smash Cruisers and cheap bubbly while loudly pining for the old days when they were the queens of the club. Going over the same shit stories with more forced nostalgia than a Lost Perth post.
After reaching a hens party level of inebriation they decide to invite their favourite balding fuckstick over who was always good for a few free lines of what he said was “coke”. Whatever it was, it was weaker than a WA Liberal election campaign.
Charged up, Sez leads the way to the strip while talking endlessly about how she always got VIP entry to Matisse back in the day. She assured the girls she would still pull some strings and she probably knew the bouncers at the Lookout.
In an ill-advised act of arrogance, she storms straight to the front of the line and starts name dropping bouncers from yesteryear. She can’t believe these rock apes don’t know who she is.
The more she argues the more the line start to turn on her. She is now getting laughed at by the bouncers and mercilessly heckled by the crowd. She has a choice – go to the back of the line like a civilised adult or go full Scabs.
So she picks out one of the young girls who she’d heard call her old, removes her tacky stiletto and attempts to give her the ol Scabs lobotomy. Her screeching intensifies as she’s grabbed by security and led away.
Given the overall patheticness of the scene and the fact she didn’t make any contact, the bouncers give her a chance to leave before calling the police. She’s even more offended, she can’t even bloody get arrested in this town anymore.
So, she continues to keep it Scabs until she’s given a move on notice by police for being a public menace. Finally, the respect he due. She wears the police caution like a badge of honour – still got it Sezzy babes.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?