25/07/2026
For long time followers, you’ll remember this.
My rants were what started this page and sometimes they went viral.
When they went viral, they were picked up by news outlets, reposted on other pages or blatantly stolen by other pages and posted as their own.
It drove me FU***NG NUTS.
And that’s why I stopped bothering. That’s why F**k You Friday took a little break and that’s why I became a little bit of a hermit.
But here’s one of the best and most relatable rants I ever wrote. I got mocked on national television because the numpties on breakfast TV got spoon fed some horse s**t that made it seem real.
Here is my epic Bunnings rant in all of its unedited glory.
Do me a solid. If it made you laugh, like share and tag a mate. I didn’t even get a free sausage out of this. But I am proud to say I think it has stood the test of time.
Bunnings. It seems like a good idea, but any longer than 40 minutes in this hell-hole can be damaging for relationships.
Even a snag on some s**tty bread with onions (on the bottom) isn’t enough to take the edge off this Marriage Destroyer™️ disguised as a DIY paradise.
The kids start out cool with their miniature trolleys and the promise of a playground. But soon enough, while you are arguing over which length of hose you need, cart or no cart, wall mounted or not, kink rating (settle down) and multitude of attachments, they start to crack the s**ts.
But you’ve committed to this and they have to shut the hell up while you do this dance of decisions on a piece of fu***ng pipe. That’s the first hurdle.
The next one comes when you don’t know if the goods you’re after are in aisle 44 or aisle 2. That’s a lot of ground to cover, even if Stuart the helper was able to guide you through this labyrinth of pain.
Because if you’ve gone in to do this s**t right, you’ll have selected the big flat trolleys that only have wheels that move at the back. So between aisle 44 and aisle 2 you are kneecapping strangers with this unwieldy beast and screeching at the kids to get out of your way.
Sure, someone will suggest you pull it backwards, but then there’s the part where you NEED TO FU***NG SEE WHERE YOU ARE GOING.
Thanks for that advice, random stranger.
The manure aisle can be testing. The kids want to climb the bags of s**t and your eyes water as you try to figure out which sort of s**t to buy. You will probably spend another 30 minutes deciding on which kind of ass waste will suit your garden better.
You can pretty much resign yourself to the fact you’ll have breathed in enough of this crap now and will die of Legionnaires’ disease.
Try picking plants as a couple at your peril. Native or ornamental? Edible or flowers? Succulent or delicate?
More kneecapping and twitchy kids who look dangerously close to smashing a pile of terracotta pots.
That sausage seems like it happened decades ago.
Ooh look! Cheap portable airconditioners and $18 saw horses. Surely we need some of these? F**k! Fire pits are pretty cool aren’t they? Think of the serenity. Wow, those buckets are a bargain.
You load up not thinking about how Crystal at the checkout is going to check you out.
The barcodes are hidden under 400 kilos of potting mix and s**t. Your bird netting is smashed between the cheap $30 door for your saw horses and the piping for the strawberry patch.
The kids are now thumping each other and reminding you why you always say that a trip to Bunnings is like sticking a knife in your eye on the weekend.
The Husband is staring at you like he wants to leave you for Crystal at the checkout.
Then you’ve got to pack the car. Get the kids inside before they get run over. Get that stupid flat bed trolley back to the bay and navigate your way through a bunch of f**k knuckles who can’t fu***ng drive.
Then you get home and there’s been a cool change, the sun is gone and you can’t be f**ked doing any gardening.
Bunnings. Who’d bother? F**k You.
THE END
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