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Apologia by Sandshoe. Pictures by Sandshoe and Warrigal Mirriyuula.
Granny made a patty cake (it was exceptional), Merv knocked off an extra meat tray (from the pub over the road).
And who wanted to crank up the barbecue? Nick the old butcher. No-one underestimate Nick.
It was he who sent the text message, the one that said ‘HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY, CHEAP SHEEP’. Sweet talk he can. Useful bloke to have on your side.
That was him who sent his ‘little’ brother to get the Hell’s Angles and poured oil on the burning chops that time (turned them into fffizzlers).
I went out to meet the head serang. He swore Nick was the devil.
But I turned the tables. Invited everyone to the barbecue on condition Nick supplied plenty of salt. He used it with a heavy hand (that’ll be a round of pink drinks).


Love your use of the bio-hazard symbol; that has the Warrigal touch about it. The door is also adorable.
There was a brick outhouse at this place when we moved in, much the shape and size of the one in the picture but kind of nice looking with unpainted old bricks and a terracotta tile roof. No pit by that stage however. I kind of liked the idea of keeping it, perhaps as a shed, but for a reason I can’t now remember it was knocked down and the bricks used in the construction of a sandpit and a low retaining wall.
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Voice, does the Heritage building mob know the brick outhouse at your place’s gone for a sandpit?
🙂
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That’s not a stupid question ‘shoe. I liked the look and atmosphere and something has definitely been lost.
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I can imagine, Voice, and how you feel. There was a bloomin’ pram factory in our backyard when I was a young thing engaged in house buying and family. Beautiful thing. Huge benches. Massive high roof. An in-ground grease pit. Gone. For lawn and and a row of bottle brush and fruit trees. We could have done it differently.
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I see Granny’s been sprinkling too much chilli powder over Merv’s wedges again… It’s cruel to do that to a bloke with IBS!
😉
PS: I see a poo kangaroo too!
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I’m reckoning Warrigal will be glad to have the Devil’s interpretation confrimed, asty.
As am I. As am I.
It’s not every day… 🙂
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Indeed, Sandshoe… it’s not everyday one sees a poo kangaroo… I thought it might be like one of those wierd books where you can make out a 3D object if one stares hard enough and squints just right… that’s why I thought I’d comment on having seen it… though not in 3D…
😉
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o, yesss…asty, magic something or others they are/were called…quite frustrating I found squinting and shifting the mess of lines and squiggels to the light… no reward much for me…the poo kangaroo has provided me some amelioration of my angst about those…that other people see the poo kangaroo too is nothing short of a blessing. 😉
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Careful ‘Shoe… you’re in danger of being overwhelmed by feelings of adequacy…
😉
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Seeing the poo kangaroo is enough to make me believe in my potential reincarnation as a seer like reading teacups, asty.
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…you know what I mean. No ‘confrimed’. Confirmed. 🙂
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I like the second picture most. It shows a healthy Tasmanian Devil without lesions on its jaws. If it lives in that toilet it must be because of the frequency of visitor’s dropping their daks and defecating to their hearts content. Tassy devils love the challenge of tourists having a shit in their territory.
The toilet brush looks a bit out of place there, no doubt waiting to be picked up and put to work elsewhere.
Lovely picture Sandshoe, especially with the newspaper clipping supporting gay marriage. I can just imagine anyone squatting there getting all ga ga thinking about marriage.
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Now, all you Piglets, I’m the heath inspector (what’s that?) and I’m here to make sure you wash your
hands before eating those lamb chops…no thanks, I’m not hungry…
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One address, H, I lived briefly at in rural South Australia I was shocked to discover the local doc washed his hands after each patient over a sink that emptied through an unplumbed pipe onto the ground immediately outside the wall of the small shack he had erected in his yard as a surgery.
When I went blue about the welfare of my children playing close by and announced that was an issue for the local health inspector, I was told wryly the situation.
The doc was the local health inspector. I wonder if that still goes on. 🙂
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Oh, Christ, who invited Nick, now we’ll never be able to get rid of the bastard, sponging drinks orff everyone with. “Remember that Great Australia Day Barbie I cooked??”
I think that is the Salon’s customer loo, it’s cleaner than the staff toilet inside.
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Nick seemed a proper goer putting himself forward like that. Not an economic one I grant. We’ve just been lucky since the Hell Angles let it out all over the neighbourhood about the Salon goin’ off.
Lucky but a b-b-qed lamb chop hasn’t got a Meat Assessors stamp on its arse side, Big M.
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Oh, it’s THAT sort of lamb!
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Think it was imported, Big M. 🙂
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May have been mutton dressed as arse of lamb!
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Bookie, eh, that temporary accountant Merv hauled in to manage the books over the Aussie weekend, did the cheque up for that meat and it didn’t bounce, Big M. That’s how cheap the deal was.
Quantity. Nick was relyin’ on the pub traffic to turn a quid. He aint all silly. 😉
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The second picture has put me off my breakfast, sorry Sandshoe, I have to turn the page…
The bloody ad for the PA’s Beauty Salon put me off beauty salons for ever…
There’s enough here for two conferences, as the Shrink said staying at Fawlty Towers…
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Yet business is booming at the Salon, Helvi. I have it on good recognisance the rent is paid on time. As well, there’s talk of resurrecting the offending sign. Big Pig took it to the Equal Pigs and Unfair Discriminatory Practices Board.
Yes, Helvi, as the shrink said to the assemblage in Fawlty Towers…enough for two conferences. 🙂
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…for an entire conference. 🙂
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i3cuBUToz8
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