Two Aussie seagulls, Bazza and Gazza, are perched on a fence at Phillip Island just after the main race…
Bazza: “G’day Gazza!”
Gazza: “G’day Bazza! Did you watch the race?”
Bazza: (ruffling his feathers) “I bloody did! That Marquez bloke was goin’ faster than a whippet with a rocket strapped to its arse! Reckon he could catch a breeze and still outrun us!”
Gazza: (squinting down at the track) “Deadset, mate. He was fair dinkum flyin’. If I tried to keep up with ‘im, I’d be flatter than a frog on the freeway, eh? Bloody hell, I reckon I felt me feathers lift when he ripped past. That said, he’s no Stoner”
Bazza: (looking suspiciously at Gazza) “You’re too young to have seen Stoner ‘round here. You’re pulling m’beak mate.”
Gazza: “Narr, m’old man saw him. Reckons he was so fast that by the time you heard his bike it was too late – gizzards splattered everywhere. Not a chance.”
Bazza: “Crikey! Good job that bastard’s not around anymore.”
Gazza: “Your dad?”
Bazza: “Narr y’daft wanker, Stoner! Although m’old man’s gone too.”
Gazza: “Ah shame. What happened to the old galah? Bird flu?”
Bazza (gazing sadly to the heavens): “Narr, nothing as exotic as that. He was hit by a touring car whilst looking for scraps at the Southern Loop. Gone quicker than kookaburra’s laugh…”
Gazza: “Bummer. What about that start? Marquez was flapping around like he’d lost his last tinnie!”
Bazza: “Yeah, mate, had me flappin’ all over the joint too! Thought I was gonna take off without even meanin’ to!”
Gazza: “Seems though he spun up on his own visor tear off!”
Bazza: “No way!”
Gazza: “As true as I peck m’Sheila around in the nest mate!”
Bazza: “Why did he do that? Hasn’t he seen the Aussie littering rules?”
Gazza: “Seems there was a massive bug on his visor! Size of a wallaby’s ball sack by all accounts”
Bazza (excitedly): “Reckon it’s still there? I love me a spatchcocked superbug!”
Gazza: “Reckon it will be! There will be more guts than a pelican at a fish market.”
Bazza: “Warra racket these bikes make, crikey! Louder than a cockatoo in a footy crowd.”
Gazza: (laughs) “Mate, those engines sound like they’ve swallowed a pack of angry bees! Wouldn’t mind ‘avin’ one o’ those bikes meself. I’d be the fastest gull in Oz, no doubt.”
Bazza: (chuckling) “You? On a bike? Gazza, you’d be all over the shop like a blowie in a breeze! I reckon you’d end up wrapped ’round a grandstand quicker than ya can say ‘Joan Mir.’”
Gazza: (grinning) “Oi, come off it! I’d not fall off every race like him! And I’d be more of a natural than Morbidelli! Just need to lean in like them fellas do, right? Easy as pie, mate. Mind you, I’d look better with a set o’ sunnies and a leather jacket, eh? Be a real tough bloke—big bad Gazza the Seagull Racer. Like Doohan!”
Bazza: “Without the haircut? Yeah, but you’d need to duct-tape your feathers down, or you’d look like a chook in a cyclone at full throttle. Remember that time you copped a gust at Bondi and nearly flipped into the ocean tryin’ to nick a sausage sanga?”
Gazza: (feathers puffed out) “Oi, that was a rogue gust, alright? Could’ve happened to anyone! But seriously, you see Marc around Lukey Heights? The bloke was leanin’ harder than a bludger on Centrelink day! His shoulder was so close to the ground, thought he was gonna sandpaper that dead rabbit off the track!”
Bazza: (shaking his head) “Mad as a cut snake, that one. Nearly had the bike layin’ flat like a sunbather on Coogee Beach. And then he just gassed it, straight outta the bend like a pelican goin’ for a fish. His block pass on Martin there had m’beak hanging open that’s for sure”
Gazza: “Tell ya what, mate, if I had his skills, I wouldn’t be wastin’ time down ‘ere nickin’ chips. I’d be racin’ for the big bucks, loungin’ on a beach somewhere with all-you-can-eat calamari, livin’ the dream!”
Bazza: (laughing) “Yeah, and I’d be your manager, mate. I’d handle all the hard stuff – sponsorship deals, autograph signings, keepin’ the fans off ya. Meanwhile, you’d be ridin’ ’round the world, rakin’ it in.”
Gazza: “Too right! You’d have me rockin’ the podium, wings spread wide, with a trophy in one claw and a bag of chips in the other. We’d be the talk of the town, Baz.”
Bazza: (grinning) “A bag of chips? Mate, I reckon you’d ask for a whole fish shop to go with it. What do ya reckon about Jorge Martin? Reckon he’s got it in the bag or what? He’s 20 points ahead of Bagnaia now.”
Gazza: (thinking) “Oh yeah, no dramas for him….apart from Marc barging past like he was try to get the last Fosters! Martin’s always as smooth as a possum’s belly, no wobblin’, no dramas.”
Bazza: “You’re not wrong mate. Pecco wasn’t in the same race this weekend. He’s never gone well down here. Not enough pasta I reckon!”
Gazza: (nodding) “After the race he blamed Alex Marquez for ramming it up his arse in Indonesia! Says that’s why he’s so far behind in the championship.”
Bazza: (laughing) “Blaming the Marquez family? He certainly has graduated from the VR46 Academy!
Gazza: (also now laughing) “With flying colours! Strewth though! Did you see the Bezza and Vinales crash yesterday? Nearly regurgitated up m’lunch! Worse than that time we ended up tangled in some bloke’s hoodie and nearly became roadkill.”
Bazza: “Jeez Louise! Mav was angry!”
Gazza: “Wilder than a bloke tryna steal a footy from a pack of rowdy ‘roos. I wouldn’t have even gone near ‘im. Reckon that Mav’s gotta have a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock, eh?””
Bazza: “Too right. Our bloke Miller was a bit disappointing. Not sure why he’s got a corner named after him”
Gazza: “Yeah. But the KTM’s were all slow. Shame to see our bikes struggling”
Bazza: “Our bikes?”
Gazza: “Yeah they’re Australian”
Bazza: “Oh, strewth, Gazza! You’re a deadset drongo! They’re Austrian!! That’s a different place – other side of the island at least!”
Gazza: “I always figured that’s why Jack rode ‘em! Makes me feel better. Shame Acosta didn’t ride today. Bashed his wings up good and proper I heard.”
Bazza: “Got some skills that lad – but crashes more than a cluck caught in a windstorm!”
Gazza: “Yeah, but they’ve got nothin’ on us when it comes to skill, Bazza. We’ve been dodgin’ fishin’ lines, snatchin’ chips outta mid-air, and outmanoeuvrin’ kids with ice creams for years. We’re the real deal!”
Bazza: “Too right, mate! We’re the top of the food chain—well, when it comes to nickin’ stuff, anyway.”
Gazza: (nodding) “Ah, speaking of nickin’ stuff, I’m famished! Been watchin’ these blokes tear ’round all day, and I haven’t had a crumb to me name. Reckon we could swoop down to the food stalls and see what we can scab?”
Bazza: (Setting off to fly) “No mate. Off to the track to see if I can find that superbug stuck on Marc’s visor!”
Gazza: (Watching him fly off) “Catch you in a bit!”
A third seagull enters just as bike flashes by.
Gazza: “G’day Tazza!”
Tazza: “G’day Gazza!”
Gazza: (Looking shocked) “Crikey, Tazza, did ya see that bloke tear past on the straight? Fair dinkum, thought I was gonna lose me feathers, mate! Who was it?”
Tazza: “That was Stoner mate! Doing some promotional laps!”
Gazza: “Stoner? Oh crap…Bazza’s out there! Hold m’stubbie Tazza! BAZZA!! BAZZA!!”
In loving memory of Bazza