Pliny was pleased with the Premier's definition of a bogan. Salt of the earth, he thought as he walked into the city on Sunday morning. I can live with that.
He entered the Premier's Box. Everyone was looking anxiously out of the windows at the sky.
The Premier came over.
Big day today, he observed. Let's hope the rain keeps off.
Yes, said Pliny. I suppose it could be dangerous.
By the way, said the Premier, I have something for you.
He handed Pliny a brown paper bag.
What's this? said Pliny.
It's your sandwich from last Thursday, said the Premier. I had someone ask the guard to retrieve it.
What! said Pliny. I hardly want it now!
Ha ha! Gotcha! said the Premier. It's not really that sandwich. It's a replica.
In that case, thank you very much, said Pliny. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll watch the races.
The morning flew by and soon it was time for the big one, the Clipsal 500 V8 Championship. It was raining, then it wasn't, then it was. No one knew what sort of tyres to put on.
Pliny was glad he was in the Premier's box out of the rain. He began to feel a little peckish. Should he eat his replica sandwich or go over to the table that was loaded as usual with complimentary gourmet food and wines? What would a proper bogan do? He didn't know.
He looked out of the window. His man Whincup was in the lead. That was good. The Holden man.
One of them anyway. He wondered what it really meant to be a Holden man.
Thoughtfully he bit into the Premier's replica sandwich.
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