“…Johnny pulls over to the middle of the road to stop for a chuck. The hallucinations take the opportunity to crowd in – horses, cows and big fucking semi trailers. Blitz keeps him cool, no need to panic.

The kids pile out. Time for a piss. They join dad, lined up across the road, three standing, one squatting – a close family.

Several bottles, Coopers and West End, leap from the Corolla, like a thread of bread crumbs, showing the way home – should the need occur. Then our family hits the road anew.

Johnny seems to have it under control now. Blitz blacks out into some netherworld of amphetamine collapse. A dozen roos hop across the road. More hallucinations, Johnny thinks, powering on regardless; the kids in the back unaware or otherwise engaged until the slap of marsupial meat on the front left guard rouses them from their stupor.

What the fuck was that, growls Blitz, ready to smash the first thing that moves.

What the fuck was that, echoes Johnny, suddenly more aware than he’s been in days.

Kangaroos, say the kids, relaxing back into each other; the thigh bone connected to the thigh bone, the hip bone connected to the hip bone, the elbow bone connected to the Phillips 26” black and white. The nipple, erect, protruding from the strategically placed hole in the sweaty Sex Pistols tee shirt. Now hear the whirr of the diff.


The water pump decides it’s had enough and packs it in. The temperature gauge swings its needle to the extreme right in a vain attempt to attract Johnny’s attention, straining desperately to go further than any temperature gauge needle has gone before, to burst free of its dial and stab him in some tender spot. The radiator joins in, sending puffs of steam into the windscreen.


Engine’s a bit hot, says Blitz.


Fuck, says Johnny, his vocabulary reduced to one word. Then, like a plague of cockroaches scurrying across his scalp, more words appear – how far to the border?…”
Excerpt from THE ROAD BEHIND