"All good Australian crime fiction has a ute in it somwhere." (Thinking, Peter Temple, Adrian Hyland, etc). To which Henry replied:
"The Ute must be the updated version of the Holden Pickup (unless the two are
consanguineous simultaneous the same thing), as in this extract:
Bruce Strayne walked into the bar. There she was—Sheila—the girl of his dreams, the mata hari of Wagga Wagga, looking like a million dollars. “What kept you,
Richard Bruce?” she said. Her teeth were like stars (they came out at night). She had the voice of a buzz-saw and the smoker’s cough of a ‘57 Holden Pickup.
From Picnic at Hanging Participle by Adelaide Brisbane, reproduced without permission."
Just as well I didn't mention the footy, then.