Alice’s Restaurant
29 Wednesday Feb 2012
Posted in Uncategorized
29 Wednesday Feb 2012
Posted in Uncategorized
29 Wednesday Feb 2012
Posted in Emmjay, Politics in the Pig's Arms
Step off the leaky boat here and then we will scarya,
And accuse you of rampant malaria.
We’ll whisk you all off in our spotless new buses
As you cough up a lung with pertussis.
And if it’s your dickie that smarts and often tingles,
It’s probably syphilis or shingles.
So if you decide here and now you will threaten us,
We’ll know from your lockjaw – it’s tetanus!
Step off your overloaded barge with a nasty discharge –
As you dance to the Hideous Diseases Tango.
Well, look here, midst your underweighted babies
I could swear that I see some definite signs of rabies
But in the growing xenophobic hysteria
It could well be a case of dyptheria.
And those dribbly drops of pus
Gonorhhoea, it seems to us
As you dance to the Hideous Diseases tango.
Wasting away ? Another TB day !
Sc0tt M0rris0n’s here to say
“Take your Hepatitises away!”
And we’re sorry that we must leave ya
With just a touch of Chlamydia or Dengue fever
Dehydrate ? Oh my, it’s important not to die
As you dance to the Hideous Diseases tango.
So take your partners and the underweighted kiddies
Cousins, nieces and hairy toothless biddies
To some sh1thole Malays1an hotel
You won’t notice the smell !
And you can dance to the Hideous Diseases tango!
As we fiddle the refugee Grand Total,
You can contemplate lice that are scrotal.
We’ll pretend to process your shonky application.
Feel grateful for the love of our great nation.
We might process your batch –
If you try not to scratch,
Just keep dancin’ the Hideous Diseases tango !
Ole !
28 Tuesday Feb 2012
Posted in Emmjay
| Important Dates | for Your Calendar |
| Sunday 12 June | Unduly Pessimistic Monday |
| Wed 25 Dec | Naive Optimist Wednesday |
| Thu, Fri, Monday | Naked Self-Interest Day |
| Personnel Dept Picnic Day | International Sort Out Your Own Shit Day |
| Pancake Tuesday | Money for Jam Day |
| Cancelled – funding | World Help Out a Poor Bastard Day |
| Jan 1 – 7 | Normal Looking People Week |
| Jan 8-13 | International Incompetence Week |
| Tuesday Feb 31 | Secret Saturday |
| Local Council Decision | Comfort a Waif Week |
| Coincides with F1 Grand Prix | International Punch a Fuckwit Fortnight |
| Coincides with Sleep Apnoea Hour | Religious Tolerance Hour |
| Coincides with Oscars Week | Gorgeous But Dumb Week |
| First Tuesday – Reserve Bank (sponsor) | Slightly Below Average Tuesday |
| Rex Hunt’s Birthday | Pity People who Fish Friday |
| Lawyers Picnic and Policeman’s Ball | Stay Inside Saturday |
| Coincides with National 4WD Gymkhana | Can’t Drive for Shit Sunday |
| August – or Feb depending on season | Give Me a Break Month |
| 1 April | Climate Denialists Day |
| Mondays Until Oct | Smartarse Footy Tipping Monday |
| National Rifle Championships | Stay Inside Saturday |
27 Monday Feb 2012
Posted in Gerard Oosterman
February 26, 2012
Now that millions have watched the video clip of ex Prime Minister K. Rudd exploding in not finding the right words to translate something in Chinese, we might try attempt understand why men seem to lose the plot so much more than women. I am talking about this uncontrolled Nikita Khrushchev-like blind desk thumping rage, not the kind of nagging anger that perhaps some women are better skilled at.
Is it all due to sex and hormones?
No-one expected him to be perfect at his job, but that so ‘losing it’ over such a seemingly trivial matter is not all that uncommon by men. The travel by men away from wife can’t be easy on the marital conjugals, can it? Can we still not remember Fraser and his early morning wandering around the American Hotel lobby sans pants some years ago? What a plight he found himself in! What a sweet story that was. Still, he never was caught having a blind rage. He made amends ever since, not least by having resigned his Liberal Party membership. Which ex Australian PM can boast that achievement?
This blind rage is why, they, us men, wage war. War is nothing much more than massive lemming-like collective going totally over the board raving nuts by fruitcake men. How can killing make life better?
Now, women generally don’t make war and rarely suffer from blind desk-thumping rage. However, it is not uncommon that just prior to their monthly hormone changes they can get quite stroppy and are known to even have committed murder. Indeed, a defense on those hormonal grounds is sometimes still taken in consideration. There have been cases where PMS has proven to have turned women in behaving like raving mad animals. Part of the acquittal of a woman of a serious crime was that she had to undertake a strict regime of Court ordered progesterone treatment. http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/previous%20series/proceedings/1-27/~/media/publications/proceedings/16/easteal2.pdf
One woman had stopped taking the Court ordered hormonal medication and within days hurled a brick through a window. She again used her hormonal imbalance successfully to be acquitted once again.
While men are at the mercy of producing millions of restless and angry sperms every second 24/7, (year in and year out), all of those millions of aggressive squirming desperate sperms are meant to get ejected outside or inside somewhere, let’s not forget women are just as subject to their physical and hormonal proclivities as well. Are they also not held at ransom by their, just as volatile, ovaries? However, the business of ovaries is only monthly and during pregnancy even gets a bit of a well earned holiday. While with men it is often vented through blind raging Victa-lawnmower pull starting fury and hopelessly losing the plot.
We men can’t just make wars or stand above the hand-basin wanking day and night, can we?
Tags: China, hormones, Kevin Rudd, Labour Party, Liberal Party, Malcolm Fraser, Nikita Khrushchev, sex, sperm, wanking
27 Monday Feb 2012
Posted in Algernon
Story and Photograph by Algernon
The last week of January, the Algernons went off to visit family in West Australia. It was the first time for about seven years that we’d all travelled to the West, though Mrs Algernon would go back each year. The cost makes it difficult for all of us to go. Mrs A’s mum is getting on an in her late 80’s and the juniors in their late teens. It was a time to reconnect with family they rarely see.
Mrs A grew up in a town famous for its wine and cheese, her father being principal of a high school there. I first went there when we returned from Europe in the mid eighties and found the place idyllic. However, each time we’d visit after, it would lose is a little of its charm. On our last visit, the Perth nouveau riche had basically destroyed the place. Nowadays the family lives elsewhere but that is a story for another time.
Perth doesn’t excite me that much but the south west of West Australia, is somewhere I can highly recommend to visit or holiday and we always enjoy when we go. We of course picked the hottest week in 50 years to visit. We stayed with friends of Mrs A in Bunbury as the town where her family lives is near mines and unfortunately the hotels, motels and even caravan parks of the town think that they can charge what they like because the mines will pay. For us it was only a 40 minute drive each way to visit and $10 in petrol and that was more favourable than $200 a night for a rat hole.
On one day another of Mrs A’s friends came to visit. She’s a deputy matron at a hospital in a wheat town two and half hours drive away. She had a five day weekend and chose to visit many friends on the coast. She popped in for the afternoon and to give her space, I took the Algernoninas for a drive to a place called Gnomesville in the Ferguson Valley about 40 minutes away from Bunbury.
Now Gnomesville started its life as the result of building a roundabout at the corner of Wellington Mills and Ferguson Roads near Donnybrook in 1995. It was built to supposedly alleviate the traffic at the intersection. This intersection I might add probably sees around 100 traffic movements a day. Apparently this traffic hazard was mentioned a part of a mock council meeting of year 7 students at Dardanup Primary school. Dardanup council somehow got wind of this and spent money on building the roundabout. This caused much discussion with the local community regarding its cost to “solve” the traffic problem in a deserted mill town.
Soon after its completion someone placed a gnome in the middle of the roundabout, one became two and soon there were enough for a football team so in winter the gnomes would play football and in the summer they’d play cricket. Eventually many would visit to see the gnomes causing distractions to the passing traffic. It was decided to move the gnomes to their present day hamlet on land adjacent to the roundabout. The land appears to be an abandoned rail reserve.
Nowadays there are many thousands of gnomes living in communities in the hamlet of Gnomesville and many more come to stay from visitors all over the world. The hamlet is maintained by the local Wellington Mills Community Association.
Somehow one of the brain dead of West Australia thought it would be a good idea on Australia Day to smash up all the gnomes at Gnomesville.
(1)The Bunbury Mail ran a front page headline “AUSTRALIA DAY GNOMESVILLE BATTLE” in the article it stated “A facebook page which invited more than 200 people to “smash up” popular Dardanup tourist attraction Gnomesville has been slammed by the police and the community.
The page, called Australia Day Gnomesville Smash Up, invited people to Gnomesville on January 26 to drink alcohol and smash the hundreds of gnomes which give the site its name.
More than 170 people have been invited and thirty-three people have said they may attend the event.
A second Facebook page was created in response called Australia Day Gnomesville Smash Up is Disrespectful to Aus Day.
Almost 200 people have supported the page which labels the planned vandalism as “un-Australian.”
Furthermore is stated that “Dardanup winery Bonking Frog Wines owner said Gnomesville had a positive influence on the area and many tourists sung its praise.
“We always have positive feedback, people think it’s a quaint and unique attraction for the South West,” they said.
“There’s a strong feeling of ownership from people that live in the Ferguson Valley – I think they would be personally affronted if anyone was to destroy Gnomesville.”
Bunbury police officer in charge said local police had operational plans in place for Australia Day.
He said the Gnomesville site in the Ferguson Valley was already part of their patrols.
Anyone caught vandalising the site will be charged by police. “
Now the brain dead of West Australia are renowned for using quokkas in Rottnest Island as footballs or as sexual objects should they be spurned by the equally brain dead.
Into action went the members of the Community Association to save the gnomes of Gnomesville from the ravages of the brain dead as the local community chose to have their Australia Day celebrations there instead.
The thing is that nearly everyone in the south west knew of the gnome bashing planned for Australia Day.
The Algernoninas and I enjoyed this trip to see the gnomes and much care and consideration has been taken to the placing of these gnomes in their communities as well as the messages left. We spent a while there looking at the gnomes with the heat in the end taking us in search of cool drinks and some delicious fresh local stone fruit from Donnybrook on the way back.
For some views of the gnomes you could look at these sites.
http://www.southwestlife.com.au/articles/gnomesville.html
http://www.fergusonvalley.net.au/Member%20Details?row=171341602
http://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2011/03/01/3152393.htm
(1) Bunbury Mail 17/1/2012
26 Sunday Feb 2012
Posted in Sandshoe
26 Sunday Feb 2012
Posted in Emmjay, Politics in the Pig's Arms
The Pig’s Arms Boozecasting Corporation (PABC) psephologist and race-caller, Antony Puce – ever the man for an each way bet has been staying up all night sucking on his insider sauces. Here’s his latest update on the Rudd / Gillard debacle / fisco / coup / sledging competition.
[[
I was mulling over the complex shitfight known as Australian politics last night. Burning the midnight absinthe and Merv rolled up in the passenger seat of a chauffeured Turramurra starlifter. He was sitting next to Giles – the best attired occupant of said vehicle.
On the back seat were a sartorially startling couple on their way back from the St Ives Golf Club Ball and Liberal Party fundraiser. Merv had amazingly coaxed them this side of the big swamp (otherwise known as Sydney Harbour). It was lucky Giles knew the way, because I’m certain they had never been out of the leafy northern suburbs since birth, except to streak to Kingsford Smith International airport – by way of transiting to Paris at the pointy end of an Airbus 380. Possibly one of THEIR airbus 380s.
Rumour has it that the harbour tunnel was built so that they didn’t have to actually look at any of the dwellers on the south side on the way to overseas.
But Fern and Godfrey were not both halves of your average mega-wealthy couple. As they took up comfortable seats in the Pig’s Arms ladies lounge, and quaffed the first of several bottles of Kurg (Merv would later have words with Manne over the little slip up with the label hastily stuck over the bottle that strongly reminded me of Porphyry Pearl), Godfrey let fly with some deeply inside information of the as he said “laughingly called” Labor shenanigans. Quaff Quaff.
He said that according to Michael Crocker (at least I thought he said “Crocker”), Kevin Rudd has no expectations of winning the PMship. It’s just a justification for reluctantly accepting his fate – the OK Corral Monday 10:00 – and opening the way for Rudd to have his shot at the main game – Secretary General of the UN, by way of first being the member for the backbench nearest to the unisex toilet and nappy-changing room.
Godfrey said that Crocker stepped it out for him – Julia wins the PM again – Rudd pledges full support for Julia – Crean sprays coffee out his nose, trying not to die laughing in front of the cameras.
Godfrey said that that last trip to Washington was to stitch up Hillary’s support for the Rudder to take over from Bunky Moon next year – just before the election.
Julia is supposed to lose in a Ruddslide. Abbott cannot win, so he will need to run across the road in a triathlon and be mowed down by a paper truck owned by Fairfux who by then, will in turn be wholly-owned by Gina Rawhide. Alternative theories suggest a return to that old conservative tactic – the Harold Holt man oeuvre board.
The replacement for Abbot will be problematic. Turnbuckle is too wet for the miners, Jumpin’ Joe is just not bright enough, but is at least malleable – provided Christopher Pyne-o-clean does the thinking for him. So the Turnbuckle / Pyne-o-clean team gets up.
The independents will be massacred and buried in unmarked shallow ballot boxes.
The Labor party will have an across the board spill. Anthony Albuqueque – who has shown great courage and personal integrity by voting for Rudd – as a protest against Rudd getting shafted in a “not the Labor Party” way, without admitting that he also recognises that the massive disaffection with Rudd is based on the reality that Rudd was, is and always will be a micro-managing tosser who happened to run against the most hated Liberal since Bob Menzies played in the Bethlehem under sixes.
Julia refused to accept Albo’s resignation for fessing up that he’s not going to vote for her – possibly because without Albo, Labor does not have an attack dog in the front row – but more probably because he has the respect of many in caucus because he gives not a shit about anything else except punching out Tories.
On that basis, Julia has confirmed that she’s not tough enough to be PM – remembering that Australians prefer a PM that reminds them of their dad after he’s had a skinful and feels like fighting coppers.
So Albo will be our man – but not for ….. say …… ten years of total misery by which time…. prolonged mining in WA will cause Australia to overbalance and half slide off the East Coast continental shelf, pranging into New Zealand.
There will be a massive voter backlash due to proximity discomfort from Dame Kiri. And Albo will be the man of the hour. Clive Palmist, Twiggy Foreign and Gina Rhino will start mining the Pacific Ocean, Antarctica and Bill Grate’s bank account – figuring that it’s easier to just mine money and cut out all that dirt and noise – that requires (gasp) labour.
Rudd as UN chief will preside over the subjugation of the Arab states by the Chinese – brought about by a mistranslation of the mandarin for “we’ll have all of it” as “we laugh at awful tit”,
People will remember with fondness / deep anger Australia’s experiment with a hung parliament and a government led by our first shiela PM, but being Australians we will cop it sweet and stand by our man.
Our Man Albo.
I finished copying down Godfrey’s diatribe, Emailed it off to the editor (Voice – who will take out ALL the dashes and a goodly-proportion of the apostrophes) and toddled into the Ladies lounge for a share of what was left of the Porphyry Kurg.
]] (sic*)
*Editor’s note: The proof-reader is currently on emergency leave of absinthe.
25 Saturday Feb 2012
Posted in Algernon
Playlist and Truly Awful Cover discovered by Algernon
Thought I’d look at a few more cover versions. The covers aren’t necessarily the most famous covers of these songs but interesting interpretations just the same.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8Tiz6INF7I
Hit the road Jack – Ray Charles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hta0HrMyRHA&feature=related
Hit the road Jack – the Lennon Sisters
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHIAZUxlr8g
Eloise – Paul Ryan
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b31L4P7G5j8
Eloise – The Damned
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIsnIt1p978
It’s my party – Lesley Gore
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri8OCDUbFig
It’s my party – Amy Winehouse
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-ponMaR-2E
Dedicated to the one I love – The “5” Royales
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8h6lPMk9kw
Dedicated to the one I love – The Mamas and the Papas
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5T3FXFnoTzE
Don’t let me be misunderstood – Nina Simone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2FT4FprxDg
Don’t let me be misunderstood – The Animals
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnZdlhUDEJo
Hazy shade of winter – Simon & Garfunkel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFRx4PkXeVM
Hazy Shade of winter – The Bangles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTfwcLdP5Xk
Wichita Linesman – Glen Campbell
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqz3lgnroVc
Wichita Linesman – Dennis Brown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3a7cHPy04s8
Satisfaction – The Rolling Stones
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jadvt7CbH1o
Satisfaction – Devo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7t-2GeZFDdc
Mr Bojangles – Jerry Jeff Walker
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86wME5d_yZM&feature=fvst
Mr Bojangles – Nina Simone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWvwP72FuVg
Heard it through the grapevine – Gladys knight and the pips
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kU3m7oWpBg
Heard it through the grapevine – Creedence Clearwater revival
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Y9mopy0ly8&feature=fvst
Quinn the Eskimo – Bob Dylan
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liIQLIx2Onw
Mighty Quinn – Manfred Mann
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7F2X3rSSCU
Lucy in the sky with diamonds – The Beatles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SZ6J6fjw9w
Lucy in the sky with diamonds – Elton John
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeLdF7ONGts
You were always on my mind – Elvis Presley
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2aMaMkDwTA
You were always on my mind – Pet shop Boys
24 Friday Feb 2012
Posted in Gerard Oosterman
There are riots in Greece and a ruckus in the Ukraine, terrible events in Syria, a possible overthrow kept at bay in the Philippines. The tribes in Yemen are getting restless; the € euro is wildly gyrating at the mercy of Merkel. Will she kiss or just shake hands with the obstinate Nicolas Sarkozy? Europeans are all bleary eyed, keyed up with tension and Common Market constipation, millions suffering intermittingly serious bouts of intestinal hurry. Some desperate Italians are said to be holed up in caves sitting on hoards of gold.
But, where are the problems in Australia?
Are the butchers running out of T-bones or have the rules of cricket been changed. Don’t tell me the Friday night bingo has been scrapped, the meat raffle banned, cows off their milk? All of a sudden, with not as much as a single seething university student or a hyped up history professor, Australia has gone terribly hormonal. When everything is rolling around in total peace and everyone happily tucked in bed, an ex PM decides at midnight’s hollow chime to chuck it in and go for the Government’s jugular. The bells are tolling, heads are rolling, and tongues are wagging. We are having a serious political breakdown and the whole nation is gone troppo with all the excitement of a coup d’état at the Dungog local ladies bowling club.
This country is, according to almost everyone in the rest of the world, the prime example of a well run economy. Our treasurer even won an award for being the best. We are whooping it up as never before. Mountains of iron ore, together with shiploads of the top few hundred metres of the Australian continent is scraped, sold, and shipped to China. We are all getting rich without even having to be on the boat to China and risk sea sickness. Isn’t it nice to be so well off? Our McMansions are the biggest in the world. Anyone visiting us can’t get over our lovely acreages of rolling suburbs stretching out over those enticing blue hills into the ‘never never’. The Rosella circuits with triple garages to boot, all dress- circled around those flowing round-a-bouts are the envy of the world.
Could it possibly be a personal vendetta that is now holding our sweet nation of Australia at ransom? Have souls been so deeply hurt, almost irreparably, that forgiveness can never be achieved without first hurling wreckage at an entire nation? How could this ever happen to a country known for its people being easy going, tolerant and full of bonhomie? Why the vindictiveness and allow the screaming of the indignant cries of having been personally wronged overpower all and obliterate all the previously achieved good-will and public achievements? How can the personal be put so above the good for the country. Where is the common sense in all this? Is this what power finally does to the person?
No matter how we look at it, Australia has achieved milestones since the last election. Acres of Legislation have been passed, mountains moved and all was going well. Are mere egos now wrecking a political party? How far are politicians willing to go to pursue their narcissistic ambitions above those of their party and constituents? Of course, the media, as ever sniffing around for blood, has been shoveling manure to the max, holding a knife at our Nation’s throat while doing the bidding for those large overfed mining moguls with the help of the shock jock’s blood hound expertise. Has anyone seen the headlines? An orgy of self destruction, and to what end and where are the benefits for this rich and poor country of mine?
How far are any of us from being a Bashar al-Assad?
24 Friday Feb 2012
Posted in Gerard Oosterman
Tags
February 22, 2012
Just walking the dog past a group of young cricket players here in Bowral, I wonder why we do not know any fifteenth century runners, swimmers or even sword fighters. Perhaps cricket hadn’t been invented then, so let’s just come to that sport later. Perhaps calling cricket a ‘sport’ might be stretching it a bit anyway.
We have all heard of Michaelangelo di Lodovico, Tintoretto, Dostoevsky, Mozart, Rembrandt Van Rijn, Shakespeare, Erasmus, Aristotle, Johannes Bach and so many more. They are all immortal and have passed the passage of time. Yet, when it comes to sport fame, the heroes all seem to fade away. Why is that?
Some no doubt will vehemently protest and will immediately mention Emil Zatopek, Fanny Blankers- Koen and a few others, but… name a swimmer or athlete from more than a hundred years ago and…nothing much. This is why it was so baffling that one of our previous prime ministers, John Howard, contemplated asking intending migrants to have some understanding of Australian history and that that history should include an understanding of cricket and Donald Bradman. He must have assumed that Bradman would forever be part of Australia and its history, optimistically defying all previous sportsmen and women throughout the entire world that have sunk into oblivion.
Now, many would question cricket as a world sport. Indeed some assert it is more akin to ballet or pantomime with its strange exotic gestures, complicated numerals, and leaping around the grass. But even accepting it is a legitimate sport, will Donald Bradman also not slide into oblivion as all other champion sportspeople inevitably seem to do? It is a vexing question. Sportspeople just don’t make it into immortality as creative artists do. Perhaps, there is just not much that sports people leave behind. We can’t really re-live those achievements that are just purely physical. So what, many might ask, is the magic of running a bit faster than before, or hurling a steel ball further away than ever?
Sure, with modern technology, especially the camera, we can now play back interesting bits of sport history and once again watch the magic of a 1932 Olympic game. We can also saunter past an arrangement of sporting cups, caps, and medals but only if they have been donated to a specially designated museum and only if family members had the foresight to do so. I suspect many just get lost in backyard garages amongst rusty spades, jars of lonely nails, tired lawnmowers or remain utterly forgotten in dusty attics.
One can re- read a Shakespeare poem or Emile Zola’s books, gaze over the beauty of Pierre Bonnard’s spread eagled nude L’indolente or listen to the magic of a Bach’s cantata, but how does one re-live the excitement of Bradman’s magic swing of the bat or the fifty meter swim of John Konrad, having taken off another split second? Perhaps we have hit the nail here. Sport records are never the end, someone always has the temerity to shave off another split second of the swim or run. Inevitably, the ball or discus will land just another millimeter further in the grass. All records are forever being broken, thereby stealing the thunder away from the previous record holder. There is just no respite from this extreme form of vicious competitiveness.
I would have hated to have run the fifty metres in 10 minutes or less, only to watch it beaten by a kid in a pram. Sport and I never made it. I love a steady walk but only if broken up by a nice latte or a park bench. I just never really got into all that sweating and leaping around the grass. If a ball happened to come my way, I would either pretend to be a surprised onlooker or just pick up the ball to see if it needed pumping up. Being tall, I was enticed to join basketball. During the break between Bronte and Scarborough Park, I was spotted listening in to the opposite team and their coach, conspiring on what violent tactics to use next, when the game resumed. I did not even notice the difference in uniform. I was sacked immediately but was so happy on the train home.
It’s a story too long for this discourse on the fleetingness of sporting fame, of how I came to be an official ambassador for cricket. I am as amazed as my next wife, but in my wallet I have a card with my name on it describing me as “Bradman Experience Ambassador”. It proves there is hope for everyone. Never give up, is my advice to all of you.
OK, then, I’ll give you a synopsis of how this miracle came about. We were invited to a social fund raiser at…you’ve guessed right…The International CRICKET hall of Fame, here in Bowral. It was a very cheerful affair not the least with, as so often is the case in loosening wallets, copious quantities of fine wine and well malted ales. I was totally knocked out by all the historic cricket films swirling on every wall it was capable of being projected upon. Boy, did we see cricket bats in action. It was almost frightening.
At one stage, I noticed a couple of lovely, well groomed and high breasted ladies talking from a distance and at the same time throwing admiring glances. I sauntered past, holding forth with some elegance, my Shiraz between thumb and index finger. The taller lady asked: “What years did you play for Australia?” “Was it around 1963?” “Oh, I am sorry, I never did “, I answered honestly. “I came close in basketball,” I added, while looking away. I am not sure what happened or indeed, if this conversation added at all to being asked to promote this noble sport, but here you are. I am now a ‘Bradman Experience Ambassador.’
I did say; there is hope for all of us. (Cricket is a mighty fine Sport.)
Tags: Bowral, cricket, Donald Bradman, Emile Zatopek, Fanny Blankers-Koen