It all started with a tin of Milo

Posted on December 4, 2008

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Meet Nathaniel Hornblower from the city of Melbourne, Australia. Born into a middle-class, second generation Scientology-preaching, western suburb-living, marijuana-growing and tree hugging Chinese immigrants, he encountered a very unique problem of balancing daily life with a dose of smug humour and whatever is left of common sense. What’s left of it, Nathaniel chooses to share with the bogeyman who spends the night probing Nathaniel anally.

You see, Nathaniel’s parents are Ku Klux Klan (Asia-Pacific) members. Not just the regular cronies who are sent out to rub factory-grade detergent into the beautiful white skins of frightened, weeping white people who were abducted in broad daylight while paying for a 20-minute fake tan spray in the cancer shop. No, Nathaniel’s parents are too good for that. Nathaniel’s parents arm themselves with rolling pins – fresh out of the kitchen from rolling Singapore noodles – and go around Smashing Pumpkins who cross their paths without excusing themselves, cut into the queue without apologising or fail to signal before doing a U-ey.

Yes that’s right. Any pumpkin.

Third generation Chinese Australians generally have a very dim view of education. While previous generations of Chinese saw education as a passport to better life, TGAs saw hope in the fast-moving world of F&B. Naturally, it is only a matter of time before Chinese Australians got tired of being asked if they could speak English when they are opening an account in a Commonwealth Bank branch or getting a cold one from the local pub. What’s the point in being educated when they could make money deep frying dim sims and chopping up pigs?

Nathaniel however, immersed himself into the books. History, language, literature and most importantly, kungfu. What’s a Chinese to do when he knows no kungfu?

Fortunately, Nathaniel found favour with the academics in the Melbourne elite and was often invited to the inner circles of the famously white, nouveau-riche and arrogant Melbourne Press Club. They say these days it’s not about what you know, but who you know. Nathaniel knew that.

Fast forward to today. Somewhere between the last paragraph and this, Nathaniel moved out, fell in love, bought a house in a western suburb and is getting married in March. He has one dog, a beautiful fiancee and is earning a salary in the middle tax bracket. If you’re still reading this, you probably know me, my blogs or have been following my adventures from various forms of the Melbourne media in the last 18 months.

Welcome to The Marching Jester, and this is the story of my not-so-new life in Melbourne.

And what does a tin of Milo have to do with all these, you are wondering?

Nothing. I just love Milo.

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