Now we get to the westies. Funny how inside every flannel wearing westie, there is a world champion drag racer raring to get out. This guy was not the only line jumper I had to dodge that day. The lights here went red, the traffic pulled up, my little green man started beeping so I started crossing the road - and halfway across, some numpy in the middle lane decided to jump the lights and surged straight at me, until he realised he was facing a half million dollar lawsuit, and he decided it would be better to stop and wait for the green. I am hoping that with a change in government, we will be able to shoot tools like that one - with or without a permit.
And people moan, saying "Why are we wasting money on bike paths?" Simple. To keep sensible, tax paying, law abiding people like me from being runover by fuckwits in white vans and silver BMWs.
"Caution - demolition in progress". What progress? You've only knocked down one fucking house. What about the rest of the suburb? Useless, lazy, good for nothing, dole bludging bastards. They start a job, and they never finish it. Get back to work, you bong smoking wastoids.
The rubbish bags on the other side of the fence looked like they contained half a dozen bodies - drug deals gone wrong perhaps, or recent immigrants from Adelaide.
Now, doesn't this just make you want to ride through here at night? Don't you love urban planners that put a bike path through an urban war zone, and then incorporate unlit mugging funnels like this?
I have been over this bridge. Take my advice - don't go there. I drove into Soweto once (by accident) and obviously made it out alive. Soweto was a neat, tidy, well maintained and pleasant leafy suburb by comparison with what lies over this bridge.
It's not all bad though. Some thoughtful person has tipped a small bucket of tax money into building new, concrete bike paths through Parramatta. Trouble is, these paths are better than the nearby roads, and it won't be long before the local bogans work out that they will get a smoother ride if they depart the roads and drive on the bike paths instead.
Something I did notice - there was not a single European car in this street. No BMWs, Audis or Mercs. Certainly nothing French. In wogville, you can't move for re-badged BMW 318s with stupid wheels and a loud sound system. In boganville, the Magna or the Commodore is still the rustbucket of choice.
Ah, you say, Napoleon could have planted this avenue of trees to shade his marching troops. Alas, the only thing you will find under these is a nasty needlestick injury and a wheelbarrow load of used nappies. Per square metre.
When I see houses like this, I have to wonder - did Hurricane Katrina mess New Orleans up, or did it already look like that beforehand?
Nice park. Good for various sporting activities. The favourite sport around here is wanking off your dog into a spoon. Preferably a pitbull.
No, the council is not doing a quarterly collection of extra large household waste. People just dump their shit on the footpath. If the lefties get their way, one day we will all be so poor, we'll be doing this too. These people all vote Labor of course. Not a lot of aspirational voters out this way. Not much perspiration either (of the honest kind).
Thankfully, that is the end of this series of photographs. I don't think I could take much more myself. My next photo essay will cover one of the beautiful planned neighbourhoods in Homebush. It's really quite something. The flipside of the coin.
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