Once upon a time in the South West of Western Australia there lived an apple. This apple didn’t grow from the highest branch, nor did the dew radiate from his coat like all the fake waxy apples from across the way. He was an outsider, an apple who fell too far from the tree – an apple with a real stem on his shoulder.
One morning, he calmly packed his suitcase and slipped into an apple cart bound for the Big Smoke. Intent on causing mischief and mayhem, he set about defacing the traditional, stuffy cideries of old and reclaiming cider for all the apples in the orchard. To make his own mark, free of labels. To harvest a revolution.