The bottheth sthtowieth

As Sam was plotting her bloodthirsty revenge, Liam was reading Caro’s story with an equal measure of disgust and disdain.

So THIS was what she’d bumped his Richmond footy department story for. This? This crap? This patently fed from the league agenda-driving crap?

He marched into Caroline’s office without knocking. From beneath hooded eyes, she looked up at him.

“Yeth, Wiam,” she asked in wary tone.

“Are we going to run my Richmond story tomorrow,” he asked, not caring for the niceties of the editor/reporter relationship.

“No,” said Caroline, “I’m doing a fowwow up on this Wetht Wombath thtuff.”

“A follow up,” Liam asked incredulously, “But there wasn’t anything in it to begin with.”

As soon as the words had escaped his lips, he knew he’d made a serious mistake. Caroline’s reptilian eyes narrowed to a killing focus.

“Wiam,” she began slowly, “Tell me about this Wichmond thtory of yourth.”

OK thought Liam, I’ve put my cock in the pencil sharpener on this one, time to produce.

So he told her what his two day investigation of the running of the Richmond footy department had produced. That simple skills drills had been replaced with ‘colouring in hour’. That the club doctor gave players red cordial before the game in the belief it was a performance enhancer. Of the games of kiss chasey played by the midfield group in order to enhance evasive ability.

“They’ve even got a talking horse as the forward line coach. And I’m pretty sure it’s a real horse. That can talk. I had a good look at it and there’s no seams or stiching or anything,” he said.

Caroline let a beat pass.

“Wiam. I have thome advithe for you. If you want to make it at this newsthpaper, there are two thingth you need to rewemember. One, never cwiticise the bottheth sthtowieth, and two, there’th never anything wong with Wichmond. Do I make mythelf clear?”

"Ummm, didn't we just run all this stuff about Sheedy trying to rape a dingo that was proven to be bullshit just a few weeks ago?" asked Liam.

"THTHTHTAT! WATH! DIFFEWENT!," screeched Caro, "THTHTHTHTAT! WATH! SAM'TH STHTOWY!"

Liam nodded. And decided to leave it there.

He went back to his desk to chase up a lead Caroline had given him about a report that Mark LeCras was spending too much time ‘getting close to quokkas’ on Rottnest Island.

But he wouldn’t be put off so easily. No, he’d see real journalism return to The Era. Even if it meant taking down the boss to get it.