This morning ‘The Smoking Duck’ met with Marcus Gilbert under the shade of a red gum tree to reminisce on “the sickest night of my life, dude.”
The purpose of our meeting was university endorsed.
“Go and ask people about Garden Party,” the media wing told us. “Try to get some good stuff about the lineup we booked so that we actually sell out next year.”
As I met Marcus, one thing was immediately apparent. He stank of beer and rollies.
“Screw the LNP mate, who can even afford cigarettes these days?” Marcus said, as he lit his third bunsen burner for the morning. He’d finished half a pouch the night before.
When asked if he lived in the building that we stood under, Marcus laughed and pointed to a large bruise on his neck.
“Nah mate, I live up in Bulli. Don’t even go to uni anymore. Just spent the night here aye…ubers were fucked last night.”
As the conversation went on, it became evident that Marcus’ only activities during the event were sexual, and generally involved illicit substances and enough beer to drown a fish.
Later on we met with Marcus’ second cousin Chloe to follow up on an unrelated lead. When probed about her cousin’s character, she describes their relationship as “him being creepy towards me, his fucking cousin.”
“He had a phase where he thought he’d study international relations and join the socialists to make a real difference in the world, but even an arts degree was too hard for him.”
“All he cares about is sleeping his way through Wollongong, one-one night stand at a time.”
Perhaps Marcus wasn’t the best interviewee.
“Shit attracts plenty of flies,” Chloe said, as we tried to find someone who actually attended Garden Party for the music.