Ladies and gentlemen, I present a photo essay of your newest cult hero. Here, in all his glory is the Dancing Man of Kew Junction.
There he stood at the traffic lights doing exercise like manoevures for an hour. Every time a car honked the horn a look of glee came across his face. Heartwarming or something. Fking amusing is what I'd call it. Later he came into the pub and proudly announced, hat and all, that he was a Melbourne fan. Explains why he's lost the plot I suppose.
UPDATE - Turns out he's actually massively famous and has a 3500 person Farcebook group dedicated to him. Shows what I know about Slop Culture.