Top Left, Foodge, Merv
Bottom Left: O’Hoo, Rouge in Drag and Gib W
Episode 51 and eight thirds
My name sometimes seems to appear on these Foodge thingies, but I’m buggered if I know what’s going on. Oh I see, it says here on my name badge that my name is actually Foodge, crikey, wish I could remember things like my name and even say the plot of this story would be nice. Bloody Emmjay and Rouge have gone to Newcastle, in drag as usual but I’ll leave that to your imagination, s’pose.
“I’ll keep my eye out for the Newcastle Flyer, and pick them up in the Zephyr. I’ll bring the shot gun.” says Earnest, yes the infamous Earnest Moncrieff, apparently he once shot a sparrow with a BB gun, someone to avoid, know wat I mean.
“Accidentally caught the flyer last year, right in the fucking face, bastards, coal chunk right on the noggin” says Gib W the person this story is all about a bit. Gib carries on a bit here and if you are really bored don’t read the next four or five lines. And if you don’t read them, I will never talk to you again, maybe.
“Train was late from Dandruff and just jounced on a Newcastle train, couldn’t work out why nobody was getting off at my stop. It’s hard being alone sometimes. Sent 30 minutes in Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy Woy just reading the train station sign and then waiting for the gubbermint to build the train track so I could get home. Lovely trip but even LSD didn’t really work.” laments Gib.
“It’s pretty bloody slow!” says Earnest, “Two years can get stretched out to seven (Oops, wrong story, anyway I’ve paid my debt to society, she told me she was sixteen, honest)! I’ll will pick you up avec shot gun. Are you a Local?”
“Nah I’m from Little Britain” informs Gib “Yeah I know, an uninvited guest one may say, catching their train to Newcastle, how odd”, continues Gib, like sand through the hourglass never realizing that the glass was once sand. Day in and day out, your life turned upside down, must be hell. I struggle to continue, not really but a bit of melodrama never hurts.
“Took a trip at Port Stephens. It was when you could the really good stuff however the train from Port Stephens to Newcastle was like something from out of space man, had the ticket checked twice on the journey. Lucky I was able to fake it both times just like my organisms” says Earnest “A really good trip should work in about an hour or a bit over. But that would mean spending money wouldn’t it.” says Earnest who is tighter than a fishes um, thingy, I think you get the picture.
The Inner Cyberia Pleece Force in the car park after one to many Trotters
“We thought we flew to Brisbane this week for an overnight stay” says Gib “But we really had a reefer at Broadmeadow pub and then shipped the drugs to the airport, then on to Port Stephens/Nelson Bay, but I expect that there aren’t to many pollies we can’t buy off, heavy stuff because it wants shares with Coals or The Good Guys or even worse Country Target, it still sells 50 year old stinky diesel arse wipes like R.M. Williams” thinks out loud poor old Gib.
“In the 70’s to 80’s most of the trips would be pulling us about 150k” reminisces Earnest dreaming about the good old days, when the cops and the crims were at least on the same side.
A pregnant pause why they both think about dinner at Grannies little sisters cousins nephews friend new cafe. Aren’t tight families sweet.
“Lets get an old 38 class Gib” continues Earnest “They’ve been known to have you tripping in just over 2 hours. In fact the fastest trip now is still slower than the 1930’s. I guess the point is the hump deviation therefore changing the profile or maybe it’s just the chemicals. Even the laughing stock is nearly 100 years old in some cases, Truss, Abbott and the Bishop without the great tits. Political dills are everywhere. Instead we have a gubbermint that stinks and remember you can have many different types of stools but you can only use the paper once.”
“Developing on that Earnie,” blurts Gib “the 80s were still running in the 70s, only to be replaced by the 60’s that were clapped out within ten years.” Let’s try and think this one through shall we.
“Hunter’s heavy man.” informs Earnie, “His arse is big enough for a bicycle and a car that can pass sideways and his BMI is about 400”
“Did you just feel the shops move?” questions Gib
“Nah, Rouge burbed but I must admit a few new roots in Sydney have improved things. But when Emmjay finally runs down George Street naked the whole city will come to a standstill. I’ll be working at Dandruff one day a week fairly soon. If I get the ripe concoctions it will take me just under an hour to wave at the mountains with my Strapfield StrapOn” gloats Earnie.
“Mate, look a good little restaurant is opening up called the Holding Cells but few people seem go every day, really strange. Some whingers expect the coppers to take them from door to door like a Mormo” groans Gib.
“Yeah, Sydney is a circle with a few bits missing, sort like a square” informs Earnie.
“So it’s a square then Earnie?” asks Gib.
“Yeah, sort of like a square with a few bits missing like a circle” states Earnie. Hmm, is this a circular reference by any chance that Excel spits at you all the time? Sorry that may be rhetorical which then gets really scary. My neural pathways are returning Error Message 404, Page not found.
“Good luck with Dandruff, Glen 20 mixed with urine is supposed to help” states Gib. “Beats me peeing in a hospital.”
“Anyway, I put $4.52 on the Bears to beat the Steelers and will return $17, makes more sense, well more than this story anyway” surmises Earnie.
“Who were we supposed to shoot again?” asks Gib
“Dunno” says Earnie
“Wanna go down the pub then?”
 A genius award if you can figure this link out.
 The author does not condone the use of drugs.
 Written by Big M and Algernon then heavily edited by Mark aka HOO.