Many folks'd say you don't truly know a man until you fight them. That hadn't been Ray Martin's experience, though. Ray Martin was a brilliant Aussie drug dealer, despite the fact that he was small of stature, like a little joey of a Kangaroo. His face was always sunburnt, and his hair was frazzy and blonde. But he made a lot of enemies down'nda. He was always willing to und'cut the otha pusha's, and encroach upon their outback territory, just so he could have 'notha few prawns to pop on his family's barby at the end of the year. 'Is mates talked to their mates, and word spread to der mates who were wishin' their supper 'ad more koala in der grill. So the rival druggie mug bum profiteers decided to ambush him one night, inside his favorite drinky-diggery-drunk-hole. But Ray Martin was a wise bugger, and heard wind of the plannery-waggery-plot. So he went out to the local Abo's, and promised them all a litre of petrol to huff, as long as they surrounded the bar he was drinking at, and came in on his signal. So Ray kept on drinking at the bar, until the rival drug-bush-wagglers came in and told them they were gonna fill his pot full of wallaby stew! Ray, never bein' one for a bush scuffle himself, simply took a cannister of petrol and flung it all over the blokes! The abo's hanging outside couldn't help 'emselves! They talked the drug-tugglers, 'n' stripled 'em nude too, just so dey could take a lil whiff of their lead-based petrol soaked clothing! What buggers! 'n' thats why you don fuck with Martin, not unless you want a thin walaby stew!