Two Blokes and the Pickle Heavy raindrops engineered like overripe cantaloupes hit tin roofs hard, and a blackened sky returns irreconcilable after years of unfaithful weather. Pounding, pummelling rain, its din of metal guitar spalling from ten stack speakers above, and arthritic lightning jerks through the poultice of blooming clouds. It is pouring over outback lands long shod of their fertile pellicle, the degenerate soils having tramped with air currents, hot blown over country towns, and then coastal suburbs, and out to sea; Soils that ghost the rink style plateau of urban roofs the colours of rich clays, that clutch…