Hi, Warwick here. You remember me from all those marks I took, mark of the century and all those pictures of me in tight shorts. Yeah, you remember. All men want to be me, all women want to sit in my spa with me. It’s been a pretty busy year for me this year, with all the public appearances and stuff. I have really great mates, like Ricky and Geoff. Not so sure about Ricky Nixon’s taste in chicks – a bit young even for me. But Geoff has great taste in chicks. The latest one is a stunner but my heart still waits for Brynne. It’s great she still rocks the 80s, like me. While talking about me, cop the shirt and the tie. No-one does style like me. I was watching TV the other day, not Fox Footy because they didn’t have me on, but it was Canberra. Not sure why I was looking at Canberra, maybe it was because I was thinking of restarting my porn career. Then I saw a pollie who talks exactly like me. Jackie Lambie. She looked my kind of hot. And she was seeming to have Wizmania too – mentioned she wanted a man who was rich and with a package. It was like she was asking for the Wiz to take a mark and score a behind. I’ve restarted the awesome business, Cappercino and it’s already got a bit of buzz. Taking it around Melbourne next year, around the local footy clubs, grinding your beans for you. Even got a bit of publicity from the Herald Sun about it – have a look at this great pic of The Wiz. What the Herald Sun didn’t tell you is that I took my van to Canberra for the last couple of weeks – to check the place out, and it’s always cold there, so they love a coffee. Plus, the Wizman wanted to see if Jackie Lambie was as hot in the flesh as she was on TV. So, went there, set up in a carpark near some burger joint. It took a while, but the Wizaura was strong and started attracting customers when people heard The Wiz was in town. The first pollie customer was Lazo. He was a leaguie, but we both loved Queensland and after we met back in the day, he also wanted to learn how to take a speccie. But he wasn’t all that good at jumping, Lazo. Landed on me foot he did – almost broke it. Lazo came because he was a bit sick of the pretentious coffee joints around Canberra, full of wankers wanting single origin stuff. “The only origin I want is State of Origin, Wiz”, he said to me.

It was good to chat to Lazo, who made me think after a while that perhaps I should of said yes to Clive when he offered the Wiz a chance at being a pollie. But then he started showing me his phone. He was getting heaps of texts from “Pyno” as he was calling himself. “Hey, Lazo, it’s Pyno. Wanna go for a frothy at Dickson Tradies?’ Lazo rolled his eyes and told me “this wanker wants to make it like he’s actually some kind of working class big league fan. He even said he went to Adelaide Rams games. Like no-one went to those”. Then later, Lazo showed me more texts, with attachments of Pyno singing Chisels numbers and offering to see a Bon Jovi cover band with him at Raiders Belco. What snapped Lazo’s G-string, though, was the Snapchat of Pyno trying to recreate one of Lazo’s tries for NSW. Maybe being a pollie was too much like getting that weird stuff on ya phone.

When Lazo starting telling others about The Wiz and his grouse coffee truck, the other pollies started coming to say g’day and get me to grind for them. Ricky Muir turned into one of my best customers, because he’s a big fan of the AFL – even though the bloke goes for the Pies, he’s ok. He turned up one day in his ute – told me later that he was sick of getting driven around. He was happy to see my face and told me that he thinks most of the people in parliament are wankers. “You can’t trust them, Wizdog” he would say to me, “they are the kind of people who would never know the joy of chugging a longneck of VB after a long day of roo shooting.” I knew what Ricky was saying. He also hated wearing a suit. “Mate”, I told him, “The Wiz hates suits too. Except when they are leopard skin print.” Ricky nodded and smiled but didn’t say much to that idea.

One day, though, Ricky did ask me what I thought of the children in detention thing. He then looked at his phone, which was buzzing. He showed me what was on it. Someone called ScoMo was sending him texts with pictures of kids behind wire. Now, you know the Wiz, I don’t really have all that many political views and I don’t say them unless I’m trying to have some fun and get into a council or whatever. But it was clear Ricky was wanting an answer so I said to him – “Ricky, mate, the only kids who should be in detention are the ones who don’t do their homework or swear at a teacher.” He seemed to like this answer and zoomed off in his hot set of wheels.

It’s a pretty funny old place, Canberra. Now some people think the Wiz is a strange bird, but mates, there’s some types down here. I remember one bloke, regular customer, Carlton man, Phil something, getting his coffee, shouting down his phone “don’t verbal me, dickhead” before getting his coffee, then looking at his phone and muttering “these fuckers don’t do their homework”. This same bloke likes to hang around my truck and listen to confabs I have with my customers. But he’s also good for goss around Canberra. He lives for goss, this bloke, like all the journos do. Told me that “Julie still thinks she can get the top job, but she’s nuts”. I was confused – I thought Julie was that red headed chick who went to Footscray games.

The best moment of the Wiz’s time in Canberra was the day Jackie Lambie visited the truck. Ricky had brought her, knowing of me loving the way she rocks her leopard print, a bit like another chick who likes to pop by who always seems to be rolling her eyes and screaming every time she sees “Tony” pop up on her phone screen. Jacks and I bonded instantly. In the flesh, Jacks is hotter than my underwear draw. It wasn’t long before she was in my van, copping a feel of the package of the century. We had many long chats after that intro and she told me what she thought of Clive Palmer. I told her of my previous adventures with Clive, Al Gore and his leather pants. She wasn’t impressed and said that I was lucky to not get my cute arse roped into the Clivosaurus universe. Then one day, when I told her that I needed to go back to Melbourne, she gave me a yellow scarf. “Wiz, you stud”, she said, “I know you like yellow. Take this and think of me”. And as I left Canberra, I wrapped that scarf around my aerial.

One day I’ll be back to grind Jackie’s beans once more.