ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

A young man who some would argue doesn’t belong in the Qantas Club has walked into the Remienko Memorial Aerodrome branch and laid eyes on chef turned celebrity chef Curtis Stone sitting in one of the armchairs.

“Where do I know that cunt from?” Keith Coleman, 25, asked himself softly.

Coleman shrugged and kept on walking to the business lounge section.

Once safely in through the doors, he asked the attendant for a Crownie and sat down at the bar.

While he should’ve been miles away in his mind, Keith was still racking his brain.

“Fuck, I’ve seen him everywhere. Who is he?”

He started playing with phone, checking if it was a V8 Supercar driver or something. His first hunch.

Just as he thought he was getting close, Curtis walking through the business class doors.

“Fuck, this guy must be a big dog. I fucken knew it,” Keith thought.

The penny dropped.

“It’s fucken Mark Skafe.”

More to come.


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