ELROY WAS BORN IN TASMANIA. His mother died giving birth to him on the back seat of an F.J. Holden. His father was an itinerant forestry worker and former Lutheran lay preacher with a penchant for hard whisky and wild women. I guess that’s why he is now a former preacher rather than a current one.
I first met Elroy in Perth one Christmas about fifteen years ago. Elroy was a tall giant of a man built like a rather large brown bear. He had an engaging smile and a kind and friendly face. Like they say, though, never judge a book by its cover. Elroy loved the high life. Armani suits, glamorous women, powerful cars and he didn’t care where the money came from as long as it arrived on time. Simply put, Elroy was a prick! The only thing he loved was his icicle green pet budgie.
After his phone call I met him at the front bar of the Sheraton Hotel in Perth. He was standing at the bar drinking scotch whisky -- blue of course -- and he was pouring the standard ‘Bollinger’ for the two absolute stunners with him. I walked up to him and asked him the obvious, “Are you Elroy?” He replied, “You must be Terry,” motioning to the girls to follow us he walked me out to the pool stating “Let’s take in some sun.”
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