This is not the “First Ever Thread” I was going to make for GrodsCorp. That will have to take the backseat for a moment, for I have found something far, far more gobsmackingly ridiculous. This article I just read on the Sydney Morning Herald website:

A New Zealand man who claimed to have been left speaking Australian after being raped by a wombat has been sentenced to 75 hours community service.

Arthur Ross Cradock, a 48-year-old orchard worker, admitted in the Nelson District Court yesterday to the charge of using a phone for a fictitious purpose, after calling police with the message, “I’ve been raped by a wombat”.

Police prosecutor Sergeant Chris Stringer told the court that on the afternoon of February 11 Cradock called the police communications centre, threatening to “smash the filth” if they arrived at his home that night.

When asked if he had an emergency, he replied “yes”, Mr Stringer said.

Hold on, there are wombats in New Zealand? That’s almost as strange as being raped by one.

On a second subsequent call to the communications centre, Cradock told police he was being raped by a wombat at his Motueka address, and sought their immediate help.

He called police again soon after, and gave his full name, saying he wanted to withdraw the complaint.

“I’ll retract the rape complaint from the wombat, because he’s pulled out,” Cradock told the operator at the communications centre, who had no idea what he was talking about, Mr Stringer said.

“Apart from speaking Australian now, I’m pretty all right you know, I didn’t hurt my bum at all,” Cradock then told the operator.

The wombat’s pulled out, “I didn’t hurt my bum at all”. Who really fucked who here? And what does “speaking Australian” mean?

Mr Stringer said alcohol had played a big part in Cradock’s life. However, defence lawyer Michael Vesty said alcohol was not a problem that day.

Judge Richard Russell said he was not quite sure what motivated Cradock to make those statements to the police.

In sentencing, he warned Cradock not to do it again.

Yeah, don’t do it again, ya bloody drongo. Stick to sheep.

Or ask one of the men from GrodsCorp to send over a Fleshlight.