Folau’s fun-filled day starts at the Sydney Cricket Ground, watching the Sydney Swans do battle against his former team, GWS.
SWANS SUPPORTER: Bullshit, umpire! Are you a blind maggot or what? If that was in the back, I’ll dress up in one of my Mother’s frocks and walk down Oxford Street yodelling a Peter Allen song!
FOLAU: Taps the Swans supporter on the shoulder.
Could you please desist from espousing such bile?! And I’m not kidding. Shut up!
The Swans supporter notices Folau’s bulk and sheepishly nods in appeasement.
The game continues. GWS win and a happy Israel Folau and his wife catch a taxi to the city.
TAXI DRIVER: Wow. You’re Israel Folau, aren’t you?!
TAXI DRIVER: That’s great! I’ve had a few famous people in my cab. Karl Stefanovic. Jacquie Lambie. Dannii Minogue. Jimmy Barnes. But no one as big as you before. My favourite sport’s personality ever, Israel Folau!
My kid has your number on his guernsey. Just wait till I tell my wife you were in my cab today! She’ll wet herself. Our second boy’s name is Folau, because of you. We thought Israel may have been too controversial a name to call him, because of issues in the Middle East, so we settled on Folau. I’ve got Israel Folau in —
FOLAU: There is no nice way to say this. Just shut up!
They drive in silence until they get to the Domain. Folau taps the driver on the shoulder.
FOLAU: Pull over here, please.
The driver nods and pulls over.
FOLAU: Maria, how about we check out some of the soapbox orators? One of my friends talks about Jesus. You’ll love him, Maria. He’s a good God-fearing Christian.
MARIA: I’m game if you’re game.
They alight from the taxi and make their way through the Domain. The first speaker they encounter is Gerry, who is transitioning from male to female. Gerry, still sporting a beard, is dressed in a short black dress, fishnet stockings over his hairy legs and stilettos.
FOLAU: Maria, avert your eyes. What a horrible sight! I’ve never seen anything this horrible, even on an end of year Mad Monday.
GERRY: It is my right, your right and everyone’s right to not be bullied or defined by our own genitalia. My penis does not define me as a man. My heart and soul define me as a woman.
FOLAU: Just shut up you idiot!
Folau and Maria keep walking. The next speaker they reach is Alan the Atheist.
ALAN: When I hear an elite sportsperson thanking Jesus, or God, for their victory, I feel like throwing up. Does that mean Jesus had placed a bet on them winning? What if they had lost? Would they thank Jesus for making them lose?
FOLAU: Just shut up, you creep!
ALAN: And, where is heaven? And where is hell? Can you catch a train from one to the other? And if you go to heaven, or hell, which "you" goes there? The "you" when you died, or you when you were enjoying your physical peak?
FOLAU: Turns to his wife.
Maria. I’ve had enough of this creep.
Turning to Alan.
Just shut up you pathetic Satan-seeking creep. Maria, let’s go!
MARIA: But what about listening to your friend talk about Jesus?
FOLAU: No. I just want to get out of here. I’ve had it.
They scurry back through the Domain to the road and catch a taxi to their Church for the Sunday service. On arrival at their Church, much to their surprise, a TV crew is waiting to interview Folau.
TV JOURNALIST: Israel Folau, for the education of our viewing audience, can you tell me which passage of the Bible you quoted in your recent and, now, controversial social media post?
FOLAU: Of course. I am always happy to spread the word of Jesus. It was from 'Galatians Chapter 5: 19-21', using the 17th Century King James translation.
TV JOURNALIST: I thought it was. A Christian of your devotion, I am sure, is aware that translation is from the words of St Paul and not Jesus? And, most importantly, there is no reference to homosexuality at all. You have misquoted that section of the Bible.
Folau glares at the journalist.
TV JOURNALIST: Nothing to say? We’re offering you an open forum to say anything you want.
Folau stares at the journalist in stony silence, his face looking more and more intensely angry as the seconds go by.
MARIA: Say something, Darling.
FOLAU: Just shut up Maria!
TV JOURNALIST: Anything you want to say about free speech, Mr Foalu?
Folau remains silent, looks at his wife, clutches her hand and they walk off without further comment.
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