It all started about two years ago, give or take 12 months, when a stockbroking mate in Melbourne, Brendan, decided it would be a good idea to CC a random person from the blogosphere into our email conversations. Keep in mind, these were not conversations of the intellectual kind, they would more easily fit into the 'talking shit' category.
And so, along came Dom. Dom was a good sport and played along with Bren's funny ways, until a degree of 'stalking' entered his tone and all of a sudden, our 'third leg' interwebs buddy in Brisbane was threatening legal action.
Of course, I took all this with a shovel full of salt, until 'solicitors' became involved and I started to wonder if indeed it had all gone pear shaped and Brendo and I would be facing a charge of cyber stalking.
Of course, it was all a prank that Bren had cooked up with Dom's support, but full respec to the man, he held on to that prank like a Rhodesian Ridgeback holds on to the throat of a distressed Shitzu.
Round 1, full points to Brendo.
But that leads us on to this latest round robin of pranking. Dom was planning a trip to Melbourne and we thought what stunt could we pull on a man who can see a prank coming from as far afield as Geelong?
The answer? Tell him that a client's daughter would be visiting Melbourne from Perth and that she was keen to learn all about the world of stockbroking. A young tear-away, nightclub haunting rebellious Chinese student called Jiao Chen.
It was a busy day in the money world when the receptionist paged Brendan to tell him - 'and I hope I pronounce this correctly' - that Jow Chan was at reception.
Full of puff, Brendo handballs a major piece of work to a colleague and makes his way to reception to meet the pretty young Chinese girl that he's seen in so many facebook pictures that were emailed to him by his good friend Cookster.
Of course, who is waiting at reception? Dom, laughing like a drain. Hello Mr Brendan, you very strong man?
Revenge is on Bren's mind and with Dom due to land in Perth in a matter of weeks, he immediately hatches a prank of his own... with the devious Dom adding the master touches.
I get an email saying that Dom has almost run into a 'Car-Voyant' at a set of lights in Brisbane, who does readings of people's number plates. Of course, Brendo's right into it, so I supply my rego as well and two days later, we get our readings... all highly amusing stuff.
Then Dom arrives in Perth, but it's an awkward few days and it looks like we won't be able to catch up, so she spills the beans to me by email. The rego they got out of me was used in a bodgied-up red light infringement notice and it was due to be delivered to my office by D, Dom's other half.
As fate would have it, just that morning Mrs Cookster had been chased in the people mover by a cranked-up meth addict in a red ute who threatened to kill her. Great place Perth. She'd already filed a police report and I had a copy.
This is where Dom and I see potential for a double play...
Of course I email Bren to tell him that it was unfortunate that he chose today of all days to play his little prank, because when D turned up at my reception, waving a note with our rego in my face and acting like Mr Road Rage, I did what came naturally and pushed him down a short flight of stairs.
The result was, a broken wrist and Dom standing in the doorway of my office shouting 'surprise' while a dozen of my colleagues looked on appalled.
Not only did the wrist need a cast, but Dom and D had a fight and decided to travel home separately. D stayed on after his wrist was plastered and we had a drink to patch things up - and brood about the evil Brendo.
Of course Brendo could smell a particularly noxious rat here, but the official police report had him toey and he couldn't dismiss this one out of hand. We had him sweating and he went to ground waiting for us to crack.
But crack we did not, indeed we stuck it out for weeks and waited until Dom's next trip to Melbourne. To drive home our advantage we decided it would be a grand idea if D was to pay Brendo a visit - complete with a plastered arm, signed, sealed and delivered right to his office.
A huge thanks to D and to Dr Ced who combined beatifully to crank the prank meter up to 11 and leave a flummoxed Brendo contemplating where he could possibly go from here. I think the images below capture the closing scenes in all their merry pankster majesty.
