A MELBOURNE supporter is photographed watching his Demons in action at the G. Not for him a pie and sauce, but a cheese platter, dips and avocado. He even had a smoked trout on his menu but left it in his bag lest the smell distract his neighbors. It has certainly distracted this passionate Magpie fan TERRY BROWN:
A REGULAR team has a cheer squad. Melbourne has a cheese squad. Ew! Jack Watts worries the knives are out? He’s never seen an avo eviscerated in the outer. Nobody had. Biggest story in footy. World-class weirdness.
Some say the Front Row Fancy Man is just having a dip, but it stinks worse than the trout down his tweeds.
Curd-carrying Dees are poncing up the outer with their tricky, fancy ways, passing Coles cheese off as “discerning”.
Imagine their game day.
“I’m off to the match, then, what? Hurrah those Demons! Will two cheeseboards be enough?”
In real footy, you eat off a wooden board when you’ve drunk too much at The Cricketers Arms and someone drops their chips.
Five second rule. Not like this atrocity.
The Fancy Man went more viral than an unpasteurised cherve from the epic cheese shop, slightly closer than Coles, that has been there forever and he doesn’t know about. Ha.
Breakfast TV talked about the controversy but didn’t have him on. The Cash Cow thought it might get awkward?
Twitter exploded like a maggot bag in a microwave, but uncharacteristically and disappointingly it wasn’t all negative.
Trailblazer, hero, some vomited up.
The Daily Mail UK recognised a world scoop and stole the story immediately.
Finally, a sports show got the goose on, but pumped him up like Nigella creams a meringue.
“If a Melbourne Demons supporter is the stereotype of someone who enjoys the good things in life and has a refined palate, then yes, I’ll take that,” this Mandela of the upper middle class said.
“I hope Melbourne supporters will identify with that.”
They will. Every time for the rest of their life someone chips them about cheese.
I’m good with that, go Pies, but Fancy Man raises more issues.
Forget the knife smuggling. A jihadist would disown such a feeble weapon and reach for the clearly more lethal $2.29 baguette.
And Border Force is yet to turn to people-smuggled trout.
It is the way Fancy Man tries to spread his noxious and pungent ideology like curd mould on a water cracker.
“Let’s hope this is opening the debate about what we eat at the footy,” he galvanised the huddled, bespoke-tailored masses.
A debate! Spare me. Why not have a postal plebiscite?
I was waiting for him to be howled down by self-respecting* Dees supporters, but they were too busy salivating into their cashmere scarves and planning platters. (*no one else will).
There is no debate, though, there is a text line for antisocial behaviour? He is wise to keep his people-smuggled trout to himself.
It’s is just so clueless and naff.
Would Fancy Man take scones to Metallica? Fairy bread to Fred Nile’s birthday? Probably.
It would generate debate, in outpatients between stitches as they pick 100s and 1000s out of his bread wounds.
There is a place and a time for nice little cheese dos. I’m thinking Versailles, circa 1905?
And there is a place for big cheese don’ts now – the MCG outer.
Seats, roofs, now cheese. Where does it all end?
What’s that saying about two short planks?
TERRY BROWN worked for many years as a general reporter, columnist and colour writer at The Sun and Herald Sun. He is now an academic lecturing in journalism and is an unpublished novelist.