'Where's my girlfriend this morning?' says Mick as Rob Corcoran barges into the Kangaroo Valley Butchery, clutching a 10 kilo bag of cold chickens in one hand and a mobile phone in the other.

'Marguerite's got the wog,' says Rob. 'The mighty lurgy. She might have let me know yesterday she'd decided to be sick. This is my golf morning.' He nods into the phone, 'Yes, my darling. Right away, princess. OK, Portia.'

Mick thwacks his cleaver through a pink and white chunk of lamb carcass. He chuckles and wipes his nose on his hairy forearm. 'She who must be obeyed!'

Mick wears a steel mesh glove on his left hand. Doesn't want to spoil his golf.