James Packer to build big silver penis on Sydney Harbour

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In the basement of a ridiculous Bondi mansion, James Packer crawled on hands and knees through a mess of architectural blueprints and his own solid gold poops. He was surrounded by a choir of Rhino-lard candles which cast an embryonic glow over the detritus of his genius. James Packer hadn’t eaten, showered, or bought a race horse in days; it was beginning to show in the cloud of snooty eastern suburbs flies hovering above him.

“Big. Silver. Dick. Big. Silver. Dick,” he muttered rhythmically. “Gotta build a big silver dick on Sydney Habour.” Seizing a 2B lead pencil in hand, James Packer pulled out a fresh piece of draught paper and scrawled two lazy circles. He topped this with a generous parabola with the classic inverted T in the vertex. He glanced at it, and let out a primeval howl. The proportions were all wrong! How was he ever meant to continue on the legacy his father and grandfather, if he couldn’t build the perfect colossal silver penis casino at Barangaroo!

Suddenly there was a movement in the doorway behind him. “Look baby, you’ve been down here for months. Why don’t we dice up a sack of $100 notes, mix it with a bottle of Grange, and give ourselves some money enemas?” suggested the tender voice of his wife Erica Baxter. “It’ll be just like back in the day when we were level eight scientology wizards…”

James Packer was silent for a minute. Then he muttered something: “C…ese…h….oller”.
“What’s that, baby?”

James Packer turned around to face the doorway. His face was bathed in darkness, but Erica Baxter could make out the deathly flicker of his eyes in the candlelight. “Chinese high rollers” he spat. “CHINESE HIGH ROLLERS! CHINESE HIGH ROLLERS! CHINESE HIGH ROLLERS! CHINESE HIGH ROLLERS!”

Erica Baxter ran back upstairs. She hugged herself and sobbed. One thing was for sure: that wasn’t the man whose money she had fallen in love with. Erica Baxter wasn’t even sure there was a man in there anymore. All she had seen was a billionaire robot obsessed with building a giant silver penis in Darling Harbour. It was time to leave.

The Soin

The Soin

THE SOIN has been trading in smut, smears and substandard reporting since 2013. Read everything we publish aloud in a British accent.

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