Monthly Archives: November 2010

Good Afternoon – Address to the Poor Club

04 Thursday Nov 2010

Posted by in Politics in the Pig's Arms, Sandshoe

≈ 51 Comments

Pic borrowed from the Conservative Wahoo

By Sandshoe

Good afternoon, my name is Louise.  I am a member of the Poor Club.

The members of the Poor Club are the dregs of society. [Rabble rousing Cheers]  I first became a member [Rabble rousing Cheers] when I belonged to the Rich Club. [Rabble rousing Boos].  I heard about the Poor Club [Rabble rousing Cheers] at a dinner at the Rich Club [Rabble rousing Boos] and the next evening when I got home from work [Boo] I wrote to the Secretary of the Poor Club [Cheer] to get her to send me the form I just knew I would have to fill in to apply to become a member (Yeaaaah! Clap).

Thank you all for the welcome. Reserve your judgement for when I tell my story. The Secretary found my telephone number in the telephone directory to verify I exist. She said she would ring me because that is less costly than replying by snail mail (or by a fancy French letter, she joked) although she said straight off I did not qualify to be a member of any Poor Club. She said the gilt edged linen finish stationery I wrote my letter to her on with the matching envelope, not to mention the classic Indian Ink and a fountain pen flourish at the finish was fishy. And she wanted to know how could I afford postage.  I didn’t like the idea of being rejected and I lied.  I said the stationery and the pen was a box set I won (I ignored the query about postage).  She asked where and I said it was a door Prize at my Church and she hung up on me.  I even wondered if she was a Christian, which was silly of me.  I wrote another letter using a dozen different biros as if they were all old ones that kept running out.  I didn’t even put a postage stamp on the envelope when I sent this second letter.

She was really nice when she rang back. And she even said she found a trace of butter on the butter wrap I used for stationery.  I could be a member.  It was that easy.  That’s how I found out lying can get you anywhere (but best to be blameless and tell the truth when you think you can get away with it, really!)   When I told her because I thought she should know that I belonged to the Rich Club, she said she didn’t believe me.  Why would I apply to join the Poor Club if I belonged to the Rich Club.

That’s a good question, Many ask it. Friends, neighbours, family as well. Why would I apply to join the Poor Club if I was a fully paid-up member of the Rich Club: a Diamond Status Pass Card holder at that.

It’s simple. I felt deprived. When I heard about the Poor Club and I only belonged to the Rich Club, it was like I was missing out on something more important than anything.  I got to thinking. In the Rich Club it’s money, money, money. If belonging to the Poor Club means no money, no money and more no money, I knew I needed to be there, find out what it is like.  If those people are still alive, I wondered, I wanted to know how they do it on nothing.  If I had nothing, I would kill myself.

My grandmother said, the poor have got spirit. My grandfather said Grandmother didn’t know squat. Faith, my accountant said, the poor have got faith that one day they will learn how to balance the books. The building manager said it depends where they live. If they have a roof over their heads, it doesn’t matter where they live, and three square meals a day, her husband thought. And so it went on. I had to find out for myself the answer to something obviously nobody knew for sure or could agree on. How can the poor get by. How do they live when others in the same situation kill themselves.  This is the enquiry that means I stand here before you now, making a petition, now, of the Poor Club. It’s a triumph. The poor live on thin air and hope. [Huzzah. Bravo.] Inclined deprived of chance to the ingenuity of genius.[Loud Cheers.]. I cannot do other than consider the well-to-do Beauclerk, that fashionable wit, who despatching a letter to the Earl of Charlemont claimed of Samuel Johnson ‘confined’ to the Isle of Sky (sic) he was reckoned ‘obliged to swim over to the mainland taking hold of a cow’s tail’.

 

 

 

 

 

11.2 Sandy V’s Joke Hocknee

03 Wednesday Nov 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 33 Comments

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Warrigal does Joe at the numbers game …

A bloke called Diogenes emerged from Greece! Hey, I just know, lately my nocturnal  operations provided quality? Really? Study the universe, virtual wisdom, xenophobic yawn, zark!

Hey! Shit man. What?  An alpha or betic or maybe even diabetic dream? Hmm, what’s going on ? Must be time to go back out into space. Jules, you know, the S.S. Julian II, my spaceship,  is hiding on the dark side of the moon. Hmm, good name for an album. Jules hates being spotted as a UFO by NASA and all those other space freaks that are looking for  life outside Earth. See Earth can’t join the space community because we are still too tribal. Jules says that there’s nothing worse than a redneck American farmer that says “Eye’s seeen a UFO”. Cause we all know that aliens and UFO’s only appear in front of redneck American farmers. Well, sort of.

Anyhoo, I’ve had a gutful of sports stars and the like so today I’m going to talk to shadow Finance Minister Joke Hocknee.  To make it easier to follow the interview  I’m gonna do the initials thing at the side.

FOW: So Joke, you are good with maths then?

JH: Yes Sandy, one plus one equals two or thereabouts. Just depends on the core lie/non core lie theory.

FOW: Yes, but Joke you must surely understand investment strategies, shares etc. that must have a long term positive effect for the Australian voting public?

JH: Yes Kerry, er, um, Sandy, if we juxtaposed the symbiosis of the syntax we can say that nothing is certain. Except for certainty.

FOW: You must be concerned at the dollar meeting parity with the Greenback?

JH: Yes Sandy, the Greenback whale is welcome in our waters at any stage. We are all for conversation.

FOW: Don’t you mean conservation?

JH: Yes, that too, what ever it is.

FOW: As shadow treasurer do you see your party being able to reign in the banks on interest rates?

JH: Absolutely Sandy. One word from the banks and we will do whatever they want.

FOW: So Joke, If I could grant you a wish, what would you like to see happen?

JH: Oh it’s easy Sandy. Work your guts out for nothing while your boss gets rich.

That’s all tonight from the Devon Hurty Report, I’m Sandy O’Way, Canberra.

11.1 Sandy: On the Road to Bali.

02 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 41 Comments

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Indonesian Justice System – Schappy style – Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

 

Warning: The following article is rated MA15+. It contains,

Drug references

A sex scene

Humour

Total stupidity

Sandy here. The Bish wants me to go to Bali and put in a good word for my mate Shappy. Shappy has lodged an appeal for clemency with the President. Shappy feels hard done by for getting 20 years jail for a tiny bit of dope in her bag, well okay, a couple of kilos, well 4.2kg to be precise.

As usual I bribe the guards with some suspicious white powder and Pigs Arms T-shirts, I mean, who wouldn’t want a Pigs Arms t-shirt? Hint, hint. I am led to a room with some tables and chairs and Shappy is sitting at a table.

“Hi Shappy, you’re looking well?”

“Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes, yes. Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes, yes.”

“Shappy what are you doing?” I ask totally bewildered. “I’m giving you a hmm job Father, I mean, isn’t that what all men want, hmm jobs?” relates Shappy. “But Shappy, all you are doing is sitting at a table and making sounds” I inform rather perplexed. “But yes Father, this is paper sex and sex sells, you want this story to sell right? So you can become rich and famous, don’t you?” hmms Shappy. “Paper sex?” I exclaim. “Yes, Father, it’s a new trend, its safe and you can have it whenever you want. So what you do is type on the screen what you want to happen and yeah, there it is, like you’re about to put up some inverted comma’s and say says Shappy” says Shappy.

“So Shappy, you have made an appeal to the President Sussudio BangBang Yodelyokoono?” I inquire. “Hmm, yes, I’ll give him a hmm job, I’m sure he’ll let me out, Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes yes.”

[Insert explicit sex scene here]

I leave the poor estranged figure of Shappy and interview a senior official at Kerobokan prison, Maid In Sardinia. “Maid, mate, I believe if Shappy observes prison regulations, she could be out in a little over four years?” “Well Sandy” replies Maid “yes, no, maybe.” I take a large envelope out of my jacket pocket displaying the glistening notes of cash “Well Sandy” beams Maid “Lets make that three years, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean!”

I leave the prison and head for the President’s palace. “So Sussudio, mate, are you going to let Shappy out early?” I ask knowing you are all waiting with baited breath for the answer’. “Well Sandy, yes, no, maybe.”

So I rings the Bish. “Bish, its Sandy. Look mate she as mad as a cut snake. Oh and did you like the Phil Collins and Yoko Ono gag?” “Sandy you just get that girl zarking home, you com-pre-hen-day?” roars the Bish. “Me and Basil Sauce have money riding on this.” Bloody Basil Sauce, the local pasta at the opposition, him and the Bish, always betting with each other. And those others that have now become involved, you know, Cab Ornara, Put Tenessca and Chee Can Curry. Think I might have to go back into space.

Tim’s Gift

02 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by in Emmjay

≈ 32 Comments

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.... sorry about the focus, excitement got the better of technique ...

Algy, thank you for the reminder to celebrate the small things.

Life with Tim the Cabin Boy is challenging and it’s easy to be overwhelmed by the galaxy of life-sapping misdemeanours and accidents that require more or less constant fix-ups and time-stealing restitution.

Tim is 12 and in year 7.  Last Friday after 8 weeks straight with us, he agreed to go and spend the weekend with his Dad.  We were going to be late home from different jobs and so he was to let himself out and walk there – again by himself (about 500 metres).

FM discovered the most amazing thing when we got home.  On her desk were a couple of geraniums.  Tim had obviously borrowed them from a neighbour on the way home – AND – worked out that they needed to be in water – AND – decided that one of the bike bottles was the go.  After seeing FM and I bring home flowers every week for the last four years, he pieced it together that giving flowers was an act of love.  Major breakthrough.

Before anyone gets all soppy about this wondrous event, the same day he lost his house key (because – against the agreed approach of locking the door and putting the key in a special place, he changed his mind and took it with him – hundreds of dollars now must be spent spent on new locks) and as an aside, he did not bring home his school diary – meaning that he couldn’t do any homework on the weekend.  It’s lost.  Gone for good.  Including, one suspects the demerit he got for not doing his homework and for being constantly late for classes (after we’ve dropped him off at school on time, of course).  But at least we got back the sports gear that he left at the bus stop the week before (but not the previous three times this year).

99 fairy steps forward and 98 fairy steps backwards.  But to be fair, he means well.

And the flowers look good, don’t you think ?

The Black Dog

01 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by in Algernon

≈ 27 Comments

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The Pig’s Arms welcomes Algernon.

50th birthdays

I’m in the middle of a second wave of 50th birthdays for family and friends. Last week a family member rang to say that the police needed to be called to the 50th of one of their friends. Their 18 year old son had become violent due to a psychotic episode – related to taking drugs. The lad has been suffering with mental illness similar to Bi-polar disorder. His drug-taking started with smoking dope, I suspect, to ease the pressure of having to perform at top levels in sport and attending a school where none of his friends went. In the end, he was dealing at school. His parents have been doing their best to help him cope with his mental health issues, in silence for a number of years and they have only recently been aware of the dealing.

October was Mental Health month.

I bring this to you as I also have a child with mental health issues although illicit drugs are not the issue.  This child was first diagnosed with depression at the age of nine.  With good therapy they managed to excel for a few years. Recently after starting high school the wheels slowly started to fall off again. Off to the psychologist we went again and made improvements but not as quick as the first time. By last Christmas holidays there seemed to be much improvement.  As the year progressed they slowly went downhill again. Around July anti-depressants were prescribed reluctantly, given the age of the child, however they seemed necessary. One day in August the child had a breakdown at school and was taken home. A parent was speaking on the phone, the child tells them that they loved them and went upstairs. The parent realizing the risk, immediately ends the call and follows after the child who by the time they got to them was attempting suicide.

We live in an area with some of the best mental health facilities in the country; however they seem to be overwhelmed by the high levels of mental health issues that affect the community. I can say that we’ve built a good support network around the child and they are now making good progress.

The hardest thing about dealing with this is watching the wheels slowly fall off, seeing them withdraw from the activities that they love and watch them just hang onto the small things that mean the most to them. As a family, life just seems to come to a standstill.  Generally the family suffers in silence.

Even though people are more enlightened than in years gone by the stigma still remains.  Given how prolific mental health issues are, one wonders why. You also are careful who you do and don’t confide in. Some of those you do will judge, most I’ve found are very supportive. Above all talking with others who are supporting gives an outlet to express yourself and how you’re coping.

We know that one day the child will improve and after recently changing friends who are encouraging to them for what they are has seen the mood change for the better.

Pic borrowed from http://asitoughttobe.wordpress.com/2009/12/06/sunday-poetry-series-presents-robert-archambeau/