We’ve all got an embarrassing relative tucked away somewhere, usually in Queensland. Someone you never visit, speak to or speak about … and even mention of them makes you cringe and wince. For me, it’s a distant cousin with no neck who is now safely tucked away in rural north-east Victoria. His claim to fame was three years in ‘Nam (i.e. Pakenham) where he was arrested five times, usually for petty theft and public drunkenness. His coup de grace was stealing and torching a car, only to discover it belonged to an off-duty police sergeant. He now lives on a small farm near Myrtleford, his de facto wife has a job at the local supermarket while he has a job on the sofa. (As far as I know they don’t have the Internet, or the irony would be complete.)

Rest assured that if I’m ever famous and/or in trouble, the Herald Sun would rush up to interview said distant cousin, as they did with Kevin Carey, father of Wayne. Big Kev’s got an opinion on everything, including Wayne the footballer:

“He was the best. He’s still the best, but he’s just an idiot.”

…the causes of Wayne’s problems:

“It’s the piss and his dick”

…Wayne’s girlfriend:

“She’s . . . bad news”

…the criminal offence that landed Big Kev himself in prison, for:

“Belting up some c—”

…and his ex-wife, who alleged that their relationship was violent:

“She was a f—ing liar. She will go out and say I’m a wife-basher”.

Classy journalism, digging deep to get to the bottom of this story of global interest.