Oh hello, it's me, I'm the problem

There’s only so long you can avoid writing the words, when the words are buzzing through your brain and threatening to leak out of your ears.

Which brings us here, to the first day of 2026, typically a day of reflection and resolution, but me? I’m checking the social media comments on my work’s Facebook page, and quietly pleading with Tammy Mothercunting Timpson to please, for the love of all things holy, refrain from commenting on every post you can find from here to TikTok and back again, bemoaning the angle of your timber bush pole. “I will never build with use guys again,” she has said TWENTY-TWO times now, and frankly Tammy, I thank fuck for that, now fuck off and let me get on with my reflection and resolution.

Hello and happy new year. May 2026 be the year that I am neither chased nor chase. I spent the last day of 2025 (yesterday, as it goes) chasing a gentleman of Asian descent. The day before that, Frankie was chased by a fellow with a golf club. There’s been a lot of chasing.

Oh, the gentleman of Asian descent? That was a weird one. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw a gentleman of Asian descent with rubber gloves deposit a little summin summin in the corner of my front garden, just out of my line of sight. I’d already driven in the other direction, so I looped around, and saw that he’d deposited three medium-sized fence panels in my garden. Without Paul in the car to tell me to get on with my day, I stopped the car, picked up the fence panels, and put them in my front seat. And then, of course, I drove around Burns Beach until I saw a gentleman of Asian descent in rubber gloves. I stopped the car (YES, it was the middle of a fairly busy road), opened my door, and said, “Excuse me! You have put something in my garden!” To his credit, the gentleman of Asian descent came over to my car, stood in the middle of the busy-ish road, and looked at the fence panels. Then he started speaking Chinese. And yes, Paul, it was Chinese, because I did Chinese at school. Anyway, he was chirping away, smiling away, pointing away, and I said, “NO. YOU TAKE THESE. YOU TAKE THESE NOW.” And I gave them to him – awkwardly, on account of them being medium-sized fence panels. He kept smiling, chirping, pointing, as the cars behind kept beeping, overtaking, cursing. It was a wild ride. The fence panels have left sand and cobwebs in my car, although my dignity remains pleasingly intact, thank you for asking.

Oh, the golf club? Yes, that was another thing. First, allow me to contextualise. Burns Beach is full of cunts. You know the sort – very active in the ol’ community facebook group, never miss an opportunity to encourage the formation of a vigilante group, big fans of public floggings. Ring any bells? Well yes, these cats have been out in FORCE over Christmas, targeting YOUNG PEOPLE, and not just YOUNG PEOPLE, but YOUNG PEOPLE ON BICYCLES. Death to all minors, that’s their motto, and if you ride a bicycle, then death to the parents, too. Because where ARE the parents, that’s what they’d like to know.

My son, Frankie, made the grievous mistake of being a child on a bicycle, in a group of other children on bicycles. Well, you know where this is going. “Dave” – let’s call him Dave, as I am yet to uncover his real name, address, and notable fallibilities (but I will, just you wait, I WILL) – ran over to the park, wielding a golf club, followed closely by “Karen” (because, come on, obvs) filming the action and shouting at the hoodlums. Dave chased the boys on bicycles, waving his golf club like a fat man with a samurai sword, and surely bringing on some kind of life-threatening palpitation. I know this because Frankie’s friends filmed the entire dramatic episode.

Such drama!

I do not court such drama.

Although to be fair, Paul and I have been walking the streets of Burns Beach looking for a balding man with a dramatic paunch, accompanied by a woman in a blouse. I appreciate this doesn’t narrow the field of suspects down. We haven’t had much luck, and no one wants to stop and pose with a golf club in order to check, so Paul’s taken to beeping at old people on bicycles, just in case.