It’s a Saturday night in the autumn of 2012. I’m in a car driven by one of my besties. Josh Exton. What a handsome son of a bitch. Chin jaw. Wavy brown hair. Lips like a barracouta.
I have a brother-in-law. His name is Gary. Every Sunday night we sit down, grab a beer and try to guess the nationalities of the people being saved on Bondi Rescue.