Julian Corkle is a Filthy Liar. D. Connell J.

      

      Julian Corkle

      Is A Filthy Liar

      D.J. Connell

      

      To my mother Marion, who first got me interested in funny

      business, and to my sister Jocelyn, who’s never stopped laughing at me.

      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Title Page

Author’s Note

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

       11

       12

       13

       14

       15

       16

       17

       18

       19

       20

       21

       22

       23

       24

       25

       26

       27

       28

       29

       30

       31

       32

       33

       34

       35

       36

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Authors Note

      Dag: 1. Australian for the dung that collects on a sheep’s backside. 2. An unfashionable, unappealing person. 3. A fool.

       ‘Look at that dag with the mullet cut!’

       1

      Ulverston

      Colleen Corkle knew her son had star quality from the moment he appeared. She was straining forward on the delivery bed when his head popped out. The baby’s eyelids flicked open, and in the instant before the nurse scooped him up, his eyes locked on hers. Colleen recognised the spark in the murky depths of the new irises and smiled. As the baby was whisked away, he started wailing.

      ‘Listen to those lungs!’ The doctor finished examining the newborn and handed him back to the nurse. ‘Another Sinatra!’

      The baby continued to wail as he was carried to a room down the corridor where the nurse wiped him clean and dressed him in a muslin gown.

      ‘For goodness’ sake, shut that baby up!’ A nursing sister poked her head in the doorway. She was frowning. ‘We’ve got a woman in labour next door.’

      The nurse hurriedly wrapped a blanket around the baby and carried him back to the birthing room. Colleen was still on the delivery bed being cleaned up. She was exhausted but the hormones surging through her system made her smile when she heard the baby’s cries. He was thrust into her arms.

      ‘Will you be breastfeeding?’ The nurse had to shout to be heard.

      ‘No, there’ll be none of that. Formula like the others.’

      ‘Right then, I’ll get his bottle.’

      The nurse scurried out of the room. Colleen held the baby up and looked into his eyes again. The spark was still there. Something hot and liquid stirred behind her ribs. She pressed her lips to his forehead and drew in the new animal smell of him. With expert hands, she placed him face down on her chest and began rubbing his back. He kept crying.

      ‘That’s my boy.’ Colleen giggled. ‘You show them.’

      The nurse reappeared with a bottle of formula and the baby was flipped over into the fold of his mother’s arm. Colleen tested the warmth