![]() The type with a drawer dedicated to instruction manuals. The type who could give you the ins and outs of a cat’s arsehole about the various merits of pressure washers. He’s got to be Robbo, right? Or more likely: RRRROBBOOOOOOOOOO…įrom new hope we transitioned to fading hope. Given the early heat and the well documented fact Kelly doesn’t like mornings, he was a fairly safe bet to visit another losers round. I did appreciate the interaction with the small boy who approached him as he came out of the water. The boy was decked out in a Slater jersey with a pen at the ready, too young to understand the nuances of adult moods. Slater glanced at him, seemed halfway to silently mouthing Fuck Off and scything through the child’s very soul with a laser death stare, before noting the camera and donning his mask. Good on him, I thought, even if it was just for the camera. ![]() Later, during a post-heat breakdown Shannon claimed that “Kelly was just on fire” in his heat.
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