Deadline: Eyebrows raised over bikie’s sudden family tree change

A bikie’s decision to self-identify as Indigenous has come as a surprise to those who know him best, as he navigates Victoria’s justice system.

The family tree of a bikie has come under some heavy scrutiny.

Mark Buttler and Andrew Rule with the latest crime buzz.

Whiting out the past

The family tree of an outlaw motorcycle gang tough-guy has come under some heavy scrutiny of late.

The bikie has self-identified as Indigenous, which has come as a surprise to those who know him best, not to mention those investigating him.

Of course, it’s possible he wants to take advantage of the more compassionate bail conditions available for First Nations people. Who could say?

Anyway, it’s fair to say there was a degree of scepticism about his new-found status from police who have been looking into his activities for years.

The Herald Sun has been told the Indigenous citizens where this guy grew up believe the “one percenter” is zero per cent aboriginal. Perhaps that is why he seems to have taken a step away from his new-found cultural heritage, probably a prudent move.

There was a time when a couple of members of the Ablett footballing clan reputedly threw their (bikie-connected) weight around in their home district of Drouin. That was until certain locals called in their “Uncle Lionel”, as in Rose, the former world bantamweight boxing champ, to sort them out.

Speaking of cynical opportunists rorting their way into a free ride via “self-identifying”, the police force is the clubhouse leader.

It has been revealed that at least 100 have ticked the “gender neutral” box in the force’s human relations questionnaire over the past year.

That rate is a long way higher than the general community rate. It doesn’t take a conspiracy theorist to join the dots: women receive $1200-a-year more for their non-uniform clothing allowance than men. Case solved.

It’s time for Sgt Rockjaw to say, “Sorry, boys. If you go to the Mens and stand up to splash your boots, you’re not getting the extra dough.”

web Andrew Rule Deadline Restaurant

Wok the fok

A Deadline spy cunningly codenamed the Irishman loves nothing more than chowing down on Chinese during his lunch break.

He has a long list of favoured eateries to retreat to from his high-stress job in the legal precinct.

Last week, he crossed off one of them after visiting its toilet. Because there, next to the throne and wash basin, was a collection of woks

The Irishman doesn’t know if those particular woks are currently in use but he is in no hurry to go back to find out.

Tales from the Mannella triangle

The shootings of the Mannella brothers, Vince and Gerardo, killed nine months apart in 1999, will never be solved unless some mafia hitman makes a deathbed confession. But there are a few extra bits to the story of the brothers shot dead in Fitzroy North, where they grew up.

There is the strange case of the bones, for a start.

Gerardo Mannella was shot dead outside his brothers house in May Street, Fitzroy.

Vince and Gerardo’s aged parents, Carmelo and Giuseppe Mannella, lived in a certain house on the north side of May St, next door to another house where one of their four sons lived.

The parents and the son next door, known to his mum as Salvatore, sold out within three years of each other, pocketing the enormous rise in values since they’d bought the houses decades before.

Given the fact that two of the brothers had been shot dead, one of them outside the family’s May St houses, there is some notoriety attached to the Mannellas in their old neighbourhood. So imagine the excitement when a new owner uncovered bones in the garden of one of the former Mannella houses.

Police were called, crime scene tape strung up and forensic experts diligently salvaged the bones, bagged and tagged them and took them to the lab to examine them.

After the build-up, it was disappointing that the bones were those of a sheep, left over from Mannella family feasts around their huge outdoor ovens.

Then there’s the ongoing hilarity about Salvatore, better known as “Sam”, a little man who used a cushion to sit on in the big concrete truck he drove.

Not that anyone laughed at Sam to his face. Even though the usual Italian diminutive for his name is “Sal”, which means his name was Sal Mannella. As in Salmonella.

Don’t geddit? Forgeddaboudit.

Pig broke the firm then the bed

He was a prominent Melburnian who once fell foul of law enforcement but, frankly, was fortunate to evade jail after a judge became convinced it would be better that way.

He was also a man who loved a good time, though his bed-busting antics are not as well-known as his piggy habit of pawing waitresses and bar staff and others after a couple of bottles of red.

This bloke’s life ended only a few years ago so, in the interests of good taste and touchy relatives, it’s best not to name him.

Let’s just say our man was known for a lot of things but a sensible fitness regime wasn’t one of them.

Regardless, he took to visiting a female personal trainer in the eastern suburbs regularly.

The true extent of their cardio work became clear only after one heavy-duty session when the trainer’s bed was reduced to a pile of splinters. At least he wasn’t a golf cheat, like one of his henchmen in business.

Helping hands (and fists)

Some members of the outlaw motorcycle gang fraternity are genuinely tough people, one out. Others are just straight-up bullies too windy to do anything singlehanded on the street.

One gang member was allegedly disrespected by a member of the public recently over what appears to have been a pretty legitimate grievance.

Rather than sort it out himself man-on-man, the greasy rider went and gathered some compadres to help him put the impertinent victim in hospital.

There’s safety in numbers. Three on one is not a great look for an alleged “one percenter.”