I can’t call Crazy Tim, “crazy” anymore – turns out he actually is.

Monday, 22 January 1996  12:22PM


Gotta meet Kate (Brett’s old girlfriend) today for lunch.  A bit nervous about it really, I always struggle for something to talk about with her. She’s going overseas in about five weeks with her post-Brett bloke, Hussein, supposedly for good.  (I must remember to give them your number Sis, I know how you love taking in free-loading Aussie backpackers, don’t let me forget.) And as such, I think she’s renewing old acquaintances so she’ll have someone to write to while she’s away from home.  Plus it’s easy to be nice to people when you know it’s only short-term.  Geez, I really do see the best in people don’t I?

Speaking of renewing old acquaintances, Leah and Aidan came over yesterday to watch a video and Leah told me she saw Crazy Tim in a nightclub.  You might not remember Crazy Tim, so I’ll give a short re-appraisal of his atrocities.

A long-standing and loyal friend of Leah’s, Tim moved into Highett Street Richmond about three months after the hero of the piece, J “Man of Beef”, bugged out to Flemington.  Tim promptly moved to take over the house in all aspects, from interior design and furniture arrangement, to stereo playlists and washing-up rosters.  He then commenced the mind games and forced a teary Leah out to her Mum’s place, creating a seemingly irreconcilable breach between the two.  They became bitter, sworn enemies.

This is where matters stood until the meeting in the nightclub, Saturday night.  Apparently he came up to her and apologized for being such a bastard, and admitted it was all his fault.  Then Crazy Tim told her the big one, the one that makes the story worth telling… he’s schizophrenic, which kinda means I shouldn’t really call him Crazy Tim anymore, even though it’s more applicable than ever.  He said he went and saw a head shrinker.  The irony of this is that he used to tell Leah in the middle of their great battles and mind games that she was mental and she should go and see someone because he was worried about her.  It’s a hoot.

So anyway, now that Leah has more or less forgiven him (they won’t be friends, but they’re no longer enemies), I might be allowed to talk to him.  He may have been crazy, but he was fun to have around.  I might give him a call and see if he’s going to the Prodigy concert on Saturday.  He had to move back to his Mum’s place, which is funny too, coz last time he moved out she said to him “Tim, you know I love you, but don’t come back.”  I guess she had a change of heart.

The Stag’s Night thingy was OK.  Paige got really drunk on beer, red wine and butterscotch schnapps and started to sing in “The Imperial” (Corner of Bourke and Spring Streets).  It ended up just Simon, Erin and I at about midnight, sucking down vodka lime and sodas, bitching about everyone from work who deserved it.  It was fun. We shared a taxi home.

Ciao for now.


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