It’s the talk of the suburb, although I’ve only just heard about it – a big old man roo punched a jogger in the face. Apparently, he was pounding along the track minding his own business (the jogger, I mean, not the roo) and the next thing he knew he was lying in the dust.
He’s got a black eye to prove it, (which makes me slightly suspicious –is this just a twist on the old ‘I walked into a door’ excuse; have we really got a poor battered husband on our hands here?)
Who knows. At least the sudden absence of roos makes sense now. Either they’re all at the police station, being questioned – ‘What’s that you say, Skippy, it was the other bloke who started it?’ - or they’ve gone into hiding until the fuss dies down..
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