Roo I MacLeod was born in a bush hospital at the wet boggy foot of the Dandenong Mountains, on a hot day, the sort of day Australians choose to fry an egg on bitumen because that proves it is fucking hot; although, it’s fry an egg hot, is not an expression anyone admits to saying. On this fry an egg hot day, he fought for the rights of all babies with fetal grit. The miniature Roo twisted and turned in the womb, kicking and scratching at the grasping hands. He was desperate to find a corner, a bend in the womb that might conceal his fetal form from the three doctors, two midwives and the utilities type person, wishing he’d come out, get a slap, and enjoy the furnace burning his country to tinder. (his mother's words).
His schooling was a lack lustre, directionless bore and work a tedious bully led chore (his words). So he traveled. Ran away (ex-girlfriend’s words) Australia was navigated from South to North by a bonnet battered Beetle, Tasmania courtesy of truckers trusting a hitchhiker, Europe by the wrong train after missed train, followed by another bloody wrong train, and Africa by bruised buses, belching black crap from their arses.
The frantic feckless foray ended in England, old blighty, the land of the Pommy, where an English rose captured and entranced the beaten boy. She was smart and sassy, plush with pretty petals, but hiding thick, barbed thorns (his words).
Homelessness followed, vagrancy, no good begging, and sofa surfing sucks, but No More Heroes, the first novel, was conceived through this period, born in a quaint English village church, on a day he sheltered from the rain. His sodden, sullen appearance doubled the mourners attending a funeral, and he was eagerly encouraged to pray, to sing loud and proud with the wee widow, and join her and the padre to chuck sanctified dirt upon the cardboard coffin.
He now subsides, has settled, or survives in a squalid squat in West Sussex and is barred from two of the five pubs in town and vows, promises, and believes he can antagonize, anger, and alienate the remaining three pub landlords by the end of the year.