Early one Sunday morning, a bleary-eyed bogan named Michelle drags herself out of bed half an hour after her husband has dragged their recalcitrant shit Zakary to soccer training. Shuffling discontentedly towards the basin, tousling her own mousy, oddly-coloured hair, she reaches for the tap and turns. Nothing. Bemused, she turns to the shower and tries there; again, no response. The water’s off. She has no clue what to do, and no husband to pretend that he knows what he’s doing while looking at the gas meter. Following this train of thought, she suddenly brightens up conspicuously.
Rifling through the yellow pages, she finds the local plumber, ‘Bigg and Gunn – We Service Your Pipes’, calls, and is thrilled to discover that they had a cancellation and they can send round one of their plumbers in a hour. Hanging up the phone, she goes to the bathroom, applies copious amounts of makeup, fixes her hair, then sits back on the couch, eyes blissfully shut, dreaming of the potential ravishing she could have in store when the hot tradie arrives.
Not long afterwards, there is a knock at the door. With a final once-over in front of the mirror, ensuring her dressing gown is sufficiently undone to expose enough décolletage, Michelle is confronted by a fragrant, corpulent gent named Russell who offers to clean her pipes with just a hint of a gleam in his eye. She doesn’t get the joke.
Like a young Jedi, the female bogan is mistaken about a great many things, but few so fervently and incorrectly as the idea that tradesmen are hot. With the trashmedia promulgating the idea that men who spend their days in a permanent hunch, working extremely hard to charge the equivalent of $4,000,000 an hour with which they can buy high-calorie foods, liquor and durries somehow manage to fit in an elite-athlete exercise regimen, the bogan female sees no reason to believe that Russell should not look like that werewolf kid from Twilight.
Even after this experience, the bogan just KNOWS that tradies are hot. These are men who work with their hands, and spend all day in manual labour that undoubtedly builds muscle mass and increases general attractiveness. That night, the bogan opens the local News Limited tabloid, to see an article on ‘Tradies for the Ladies’, and sighs.