Where have all the Grape Men gone?

Where the Grape Men would be if they were around any more

I get asked a lot of questions while on tour, during international literary festivals and in the bath with groupies. Some of the most common include “Was that really an okapi?”, “Will you take off your mask?”, “What’s Sam Marshall really like? and “Whatever happened to those nice Grape Men?”

The answers, in order, are

“Yes, and it was eating a daikon.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I just took off my mask willy nilly, would I.”

“A delightful fellow with a predilection for fine vodka.”

And, as for the Grape Men, well, that’s a slightly longer story.

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The Grape Men Ride Again

If you’re new to the Haught blog, you might not know who the Grape Men are. In this case, you might find my introduction to the Grape Men from a few weeks ago helpful:

The Grape Men

Yesterday I heard one of the Grape Men ask another one to help him push an empty wheelbarrow from one side of the lot to another. When the other bloke said “Why? Why you move it?” the reply was “Do I need a fuck reason?” and everyone laughed. Including me.

A few days ago I heard one of them ask another to open the bonnet of the car he was trying to start and see if he could detect any problems. The other fellow said “No. Do it youself. I’m busy.” I rushed to the kitchen window and stood on tiptoes and to my delight found that the only guy who could possibly have said “I’m busy” was sitting on a wooden crate smoking a cigarette and patting a stray cat.

Truly, these are kings among men.

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The Grape Men

I grew up in well-established suburb of Melbourne, so it was a novelty to have horses over the back fence.  They roamed around in a thin expanse of undeveloped land that spanned an entire block lengthways and sometimes Dad would lift me up so I could feed them grass and pat their noses. (To this day, I like horses for the fact that they prefer the grass out of a person’s hand to the grass coming out of the ground. They are humouring us like a kind uncle humours a dim-witted child, and I appreciate it, despite the fact that once you know what they’re doing you can’t help but feel it’s a tiny bit condescending.)

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