My buddy Phil, he’s got this small-time electrical business, right? Runs it out of his mum’s garage, see? He don’t live there no more, of course – Phil’s a man who made himself by himself, you get it? But his mum doesn’t have a car or nothing, so she lets him use the space for his little electrical business, you see? Of course, she don’t want nothing for it, and of course, Philly ain’t never gonna take advantage of nobody’s ma – least of all his own. So he slips her some cash whenever she’s not looking, does odd jobs around the house and whatnot. He’s a good kid, Phil.

But why am I telling you about my buddy Phil? Well, you see Philly went and got himself in a bad spot with some tight fellas (or is that the other way around?). So he comes to me; says I can help.

How can I help? I ask him. This is your problem, I tell him. Deal with it, right?

Well, Phil goes away, long enough that we start to worry he’s been sent to the professional glazier in the Melbourne area – the great big glasshouse up north, you copy?

But Philly comes back, spring in his step, flower in his hair. You’ll never believe it, he tells us, joy stretching his big dumb face. I’m married! he tells us. 

We don’t believe him, the schmuck, but we start with the back-slapping and the shoulder-tapping – it’s a real love-fest, alright?

But Philly? I eventually asks him – what about those boys down from Melbourne who were looking to install a new glass balustrade in your home, if you know what we’re saying?

He did indeed know what we were saying.

What do you think I’ve been doing?! he laughs. That’s who I went and got married to!

And he turns around, introducing us to one of them tight fellas I was telling you about earlier – the two are hitched. Philly’s a made man – and protected.

Ah, Philly. Always did know how to deal with a problem.