For three glorious weeks I fulfilled my childhood ambition of becoming South Sydney's mascot, Reggie the Rabbit, but not because I was a Souths fan. You see, I loved rabbits. I really loved them.
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Now, because of what happened to me at Souths, I loathe them - and Anthony Albanese is to blame.
Albanese eviscerated my South Sydney Rabbitohs dream and ruined what should have been the best day of my life. The prick.
It was round three of the 2002 NRL season - Souths celebrated competition return after two seasons in the wilderness. They had just beaten the Northern Eagles 44-20 in their first home game at Aussie Stadium.
Both the team and I had had our best showing of the year. It felt like I was finally growing into the role after two stuttering displays.
My Hammer dance in game three proved more popular than my moonwalk in game one (although the unintentional pratfall mid-moonwalk amused the crowd). And it was far more popular than my controversial twerking in game two (my twerking predated the dance style becoming a global craze).
The twerks brought me into contact with Albanese, a then Souths board member, for the first time. Post-match in the dressing room, he rebuked me for disrespecting the club with my "disgraceful behaviour".
"You're on very thin ice, Bode, very thin," he added, then stormed off - the players' laughter exacerbating my shame.
It was a different story after the Eagles game. Albanese shook my hand while describing my Hammer routine as "inspired". I swelled with even more pride when several players congratulated me - before my dizzying high was enhanced.
I saw her reflection in the mirror as I shaved. She was the most beautiful Rabbitohs cheerleader: tanned and taut, with big brown eyes and wavy brunette hair. She said she had a special surprise for me. We were alone.
As per her instructions, I emerged from a toilet wearing the mascot outfit. Kylie singing "Can't Get You Out of My Head" blared from a portable CD player, as the cheerleader gyrated on a massage table and said: "Take a seat, Reggie, and enjoy the show, you sexy bunny rabbit."
The high point of my life was occurring: a private X-rated performance by a gorgeous cheerleader, who was also a fellow rabbit-obsessed "furry".
Sadly, it didn't last long.
"What the f**k's going on here?!" Albanese said, as he stood, hands on hips, at the dressing-room entrance.
I left the room berated and sacked, forlorn and severely blue-balled - my fantasy cruelly ripped from me by the man who would be prime minister. The prick.
So, boys. Remember this sad story when you cast your ballot at this year's federal election.
Mark Bode is an ACM journalist. He uses satire and fiction in commentary.