I detest mangoes...

Rare, but true. Everywhere I went in Cooktown,

Guugu Yimithirr country, there were mango trees

dripping with the fruit and soft, squishy mangoes

covering the ground. I did what any self-respecting

kid would do, and I picked them up and threw

them at my friends.

I hung out with pig shooters... religious fundamentalists from farms....

kids who grew up on missions......

and kids who didn't.

They know your business and

you know theirs.

Everyone is in your face. 

Small towns

are in your face

Sometimes it sucked

Evil step-fathers threw out their teenage step-kids, young teenagers had nothing to do except have babies. Alcoholics beat their wives. Friends often didn't have enough food for breakfast.

I liked being 12 because....


I was sitting in our caravan in the back yard. It was a sunny afternoon (by night there were frogs and toads croaking, but now it was quiet) and suddenly, out of nowhere, like frog's croak, a poem popped into my head. 

Since then, I follow the images in my head. If you like telling stories, you should

try it. 

Screenshot 2020-12-29 at 11.26.07.png

The compensation...


I was swimming in the sea before school. I cycled to fresh rivers and walked through swamps with crocodiles living in them. I snorkelled the Great Barrier reef, skied over crocs in the harbour, and camped out on the rocks.

Pretty much every day, me and my friends sat on a bench on the main street, making up stories. 

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • YouTube
  • Instagram

© 2023 by A True Crime Podcast. Proudly created with