The Constant Threat of Influenza: The Wet Blanket That Is Beau Sebastopol Van Damme*

For a change of pace, I’ve asked Beau’s wife to provide the foreword for this piece. She is the one who spends the most time with him, so she is in the box seat for the full extent of the dampness.

Madeline – “Everything written in this piece is 1000% correct and in no way should be doubted or fact checked”**

Just as I suspected, thank you Madeline.

Despite this world-renowned website, coffeeotis.com.au, having one million plus subscribers***, this is for an audience of one. 

The ironic thing? 

He'll probably never read it**** 

Sitting on the deck out the back of Beau's, we were enjoying some Coopers purple, which is by far the best beer on the market. I unveiled the new Coffee Otis business cards, and could barely contain just how funny I thought I was for what I had produced. 

If anyone is in need of a hype-man, unfortunately my services are taken.

By me.

What I should have done was pack a spare set of clothes, because Beau, being the constant wet blanket he is, had me damper than a fat bloke doing push-ups in Port Douglas.

"Read this on your boss’s time. I wrote it on mine” 

“WHAT IF YOUR BOSS SEES THIS?!"

Shut up Beau.

Just enjoy something for once in your life you nerd. 

Besides, if my boss is reading the world-renowned publication coffeeotis.com.au on company time, I'd argue I've achieved the final evolution of this business card. Besides, we both know odds are I pulled half the company out of the shit 10 minutes before writing this.

If me and the missus end up homeless and have to sell the kids to survive? Well, that one’s on me.

For now, you just sit back and enjoy the generational humour on the piece of cardboard in front of you.

Looking back, it does make me wonder, was this now grown arse adult always such a stickler when I met him 20 years ago?

Get the marker out and tick the “unequivocally yes” box please and thank you.

You know what’s funny?

Weed fights.

If you want to drive around with a big old snap lock container full of weed, yeah, I’m going to take it out the glovebox as you’re driving, scream “WEED FIGHT”, and start throwing nuggets at you.

Am I aware that you may or may not be (vagueness for legal purposes) carrying above the legal limit?

I’m not sure. Electrician. Not lawyer.

Am I responsible for the erratic driving?

I’ve always been a 10 and 2 guy, I can’t speak for others’ driving history.

Am I aware of the fact we’re kicking about in a beat up, piece of shit Gemini that would absolutely be classified as a “cop magnet”?

Yeah…yeah alright…I’m absolutely aware of that.

But hindsight is 20/20.

Looking back, were Beau’s concerns fair and valid? 

Perhaps. 

But perhaps has never seen the hilarity behind getting marijuana stuck in nooks and crevices it was never meant to venture.

Perhaps has never seen a weed nugget get lodged between a driver’s eyes and his glasses while driving down Berwick main street.

Perhaps never had that fun.

You know what’s a good time?

Jumping into an industrial-sized tumble dryer. 

Yes, I’m aware the whole point of a night out is to sometimes get lucky with a member of the opposite sex, and on this occasion, we were literally heading to a house containing members of the opposite sex.

Seemed like a fairly promising development.

But you know what I can be damn well sure of?

If there’s an open laundromat at 2AM, I bet those gals will find two guys giggling their arses off as they ask them to shut the door and press start ridiculously impressive. Definitely not a turnoff at all.

Some may argue that it was that moment of childish exuberance that cost us.

I would argue that there have been documented instances where people within a five-metre radius of Beau have reported increased moisture levels.

But there was a time before the dampness set in. There was a time where I would pitch something dumb, Beau would agree lightly, in principle, and I would set it into motion without Beau fully realising that the plan had even been launched.

A Friday night, and a couple of your mates have a double date. Totally normal for them – not so much Beau and I, who wanted to smoke weed and play Sega instead.

Normally, you would say something profound to your mates before they leave like “oi touch her boobs” and let them get on with it.

Or, if you were lucky enough to be surrounded by a couple highly established individuals, you would set about driving to FG Village Cinemas, asking the noticeably confused and suspicious ticket vendor if two guys and two blonde chicks bought tickets to a movie, and that we needed tickets to the same movie…then hiding behind the curtain of a shooting game like school kids getting busted playing 40/40 when we thought we got sprung.

Tell you one thing.

Perhaps never would have experienced that comedic nirvana. 

The sound of Beau sniggering away in that dark cinema, sneaking glimpses of the love birds two rows behind us, watching money disappear on a movie neither of us remembers, was proof that somewhere deep down was a man-boy capable of seeing the funny side of something, without immediately calculating the risk of arrest, financial ruin, or whether we should seek professional help.

Beau may argue these 20 years of growth have actually been the right move for him. 

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I'm just mistaking basic human growth and maturity for being a gigantic sopping wet blanket?

Perhaps there is a realm where Beau is right about some of the concerns raised, and that perhaps it is I who needs a big old swig of grow the fuck up juice.

Nah.

Perhaps wasn’t there. 

Perhaps doesn’t have these tales. 

Perhaps can respectfully fuck off.

We attempted to contact the defence for comment.

Unfortunately, the phone line appeared to have been affected by excessive moisture and all communication was abandoned. 

Appropriate, really.

In life, a perfect circle can form of its own accord.

This story began with a drink in hand, and it ends the same way — just with a marginally more respectable drink than where we started.

Sitting there with Purple in hand, I had to wonder just how I have not only managed to survive this strain of sogginess for 2 decades now, but prosper living alongside it.

Some of you may believe some of this piece was fabricated, but as Madeline informed us from the outset "Everything written in this piece is 1000% correct.*****"

Go hit the dryer, Beau.

* real name has been redacted for legal reasons

** paraphrased from a dodgy phone line connection 

*** aggressively rounded 

**** Peer pressure works remarkably well on Beau, FYI 

***** see **