It may not rhyme but it does still sound freakishly like a scenario Dr Seuss would conger up. But it isn’t.

And another untruth that may have occurred is Edwardo is not actually Greek. He is Italian.

Edwardo was in fact introduced to us by our friend Micky (who now has two feathers for his cap. Introducing me to Edwardo and my tea drinking fetish as mentioned previously) the jolly ol’ English cockle. They came to visit and we had a mad BBQ which included amongst other things, turtle roasted in the coals.

Now, you can stop pointing at the green peace banner sitting above your composting toilet complete with reusable toilet paper and pay attention to what I shall share with you… now! The turtle was caught by indigenous Australians that I have had the pleasure of getting to know through a mural art workshop I did in their small community (a moonlighting thing I do) which makes it totally kosher… or the aboriginal equivalent of. They love the shit out of eating river turtles and when I tried it I realised why. All sorts of applications came flooding into my head. Most of them involved eating the turtle… Some of them didn’t. I liken the meat to a fresh water crustacean. A cross between a mud crab and a yabbie. Reminiscent of my marron escapades, I think it was yearning for a buttery dressing but alas, it was consumed to quickly for me to provide it. I also found it out of reach of my capabilities to provide a decent photo of said reptilian meal due to excessive consumption of the white mans devil water.

I don’t know of a restaurant or supplier out there that sells turtle, so maybe this story holds close to zero relevance for you. Or maybe you should get out there and help a small indigenous community and maybe, just maybe, they’ll share their beloved turtle with you too.

Bye bye.