Anyhoo, we bought our kebabs and sat down in the nice air-conditioned 'food court' for a relaxing lunch break free of whiney kiddies and old ladies who cannot figure out how to switch those 'darn computer thingys' on.

"I don't like some of the people around here", said Uncle as we strode into the shop entrance.

"Huh? Oh, the bogans. You don't like the bogans ay?" I replied.

Uncle shook his head, which is accustomed to being surrounded by the sweet, pseudo upper class air of Mount Gravatt coffee shops (which at least has decent air-conditioning).

Yes, it seems that no body likes a bogan...especially the ones in my neighbourhood that like to wear flanno, plugger thongs and oh yes, strut about with a mighty mullet. Even the women around here seem to have mullets.

"The woman around here sure look tough. In fact, everyone pretty much does", commented Uncle as we sat with the kababs.

"Oh yeah, we're all like that here...especially us", said Alicia.

Then I spotted my Uncle Jim walking towards our general direction.

Let me give you some idea about what my Uncle Jim is like. He's a 60-ish year old Hungarian whose hobbies include watching Wrestling on Foxtel, drinking lots of home-made 'fire water' with his mates, making frequent trips to the Hungarian butcher to pick up lots of salami and speck (his favourite) and of course, pestering his loved ones on the status of their love lives.

Uncle Jim keeps getting the same story from me (being a career gal and all), so you'd think that he'd just give up and let me live in peace. Nup.

I immediately went into panic mode because I could picture Uncle Jim telling the rest of the family that I was out with an 'unfamiliar man' who likes eating kebabs with me. Of course, Alicia was there too, but the men in my family like to 'embellish' their stories, so they can sound like they are telling the utter truth even though they have had way too much of Jimmy's fire water. So, Alicia would've naturally been editied out of the cinematic release.

It's a good thing that Uncle Jim is pretty much blind and deaf, so he didn't spot us.

"Pssst...there's my uncle", I whispered.

"Who? Him?" Uncle replied loudly.

"Shhhhh!"

Uncle Jim is a pretty rotund man in appearance. My Aunt is always making him go on these diets which usually feature some form of 'Stinging Nettle Tea'. Her kitchen sometimes smells like horse manure when the teapot is close by.

Uncle Jim usually sticks to his wife's dictatorship/diets without complaint. We all thought that his days of speck sandwiches, hold the bread, were over.

Oh, was I mistaken.

You see, I could not only see Uncle Jim, dressed in a clingy white Bonds singlet top (it was a good day...on a 'bad day' you can see a hint of man-boobage trying to escape like rabid dogs in a potato sack), but he couldn't see me as he approached the local deli.

Uncle kept a commentary running throughout the action.

me- Oh he's not buying anything. He's just waiting for my Aunt. He's on a diet ya know.

Uncle- Oooo...he's looking like he's going to buy something Anni!

Uncle Jim buys a veeery unhealthy and dubious-looking roast sausage.

me- Hahaha...I caught him out!

Uncle Jim eats the sausage.

Uncle- Errr...look Anni, he's eating that shit.

Uncle Jim then bought a bottle of Coke, even though he constantly raves on with his 'eaten-coin-via-leaving-it-in-a-vat-of-Coca-Cola-story'.

Uncle, Alicia and I managed to get out of there alive without the Hungarian gossip mafia network or my uncle running into us.

Later I went over to my Uncle's place and my mum (who thought that it was all hilarious) told my Aunt about Uncle Jim's little indiscretion.

I was glad that I got away before the teapot made an appearance.