Driving along Liverpool Road this morning, I was rudely cut off by a car entering onto the main road from a side street. In order to miss the car, I not only had to slam on the brakes, but also swerve into the next lane (fortunately it was empty).
'Watch it, you-' I started, and glancing over I registered the messy-haired, topless white guy who looked like he'd gotten into his ancient dusty brown Ford after chasing a chicken around his trailer. I finished my sentence, '-yokel!'
Yokel? I thought, where did that come from? Then immediately the song started playing in my head, 'Some folk'll never lose a toe, but then again some folk'll, like Cletus the slack-jawed yokel' [insert banjo flourish]
I met a real life yokel! In Sydney - Strathfield, in fact, of all places! I drove beside him for a while, curious as to where he was going, under-attired as he was. What had got him in such a hurry?
Sure enough, there it stood before us. The golden arches. With the same urgency with which he'd nearly crashed into me, he turned into the McDonalds driveway and left me with this new insight, so THAT'S where yokels go when everyone else goes to work...
yo·kel /ˈyoʊkəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[yoh-kuhl] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
a rustic; a country bumpkin.
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