Warning: This article contains strong language and a really long sentence that may challenge readers with short atten….. sorry, where was I again ?
Story – as told to Emmjay by his alter ego…. Walter Wall
In late breaking news, it has been revealed that the long-time stalwart and sometime publican of the Pig’s Arms has produced his greatest grand final triumph this last weekend.
The Pig’s Arms team doctor (Dr Fockter of the St Generic’s Brand Practice) revealed in a pressed conference this morning that Mervyn Purvis pulled beers the entire weekend (the season’s busiest piss-up) with a badly fractured
It was originally thought that Merv had been shoulder charged by one of the bankers named in the Royal Commission into Banking and Paedo Activity, however in a front page retraction by the Austrian News broadshit, the paper stated that the injury had been sustained when Merv was attempting to change a keg ….. while Manne was being sin-binned for going into touch on purpose. He was apparently going in to touch Granny who was taking a quick nap in the cellar – as is her usual habit. As opposed to Father O’Way’s usual habit – which is of course, hoarse racing. That is, running with a sore throat.
Merv said that he tripped over Manne and Granny in the dimly lit cellar, took flight and busted his shoulder on a keg tap.
Undeterred (as opposed to “under turd”, which is best used to refer to Scott Morrison’s thongs), Merv pressed on and managed to maintain an uninterruptured
cruciate ligament flow of crisp foamy Trotter’s Ale for the duration of all the weekend’s grand finals.
Hung One On was quoted as saying “Don’t quote me, but…”. In which case, Big M undertook not to quote him. HOO then said that provided Big M was as good as his word (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious), he (Hung) could (parenthetically speaking) reveal that Merv was one huge mountain of a Manne and had shown bravery above and beyond the call of the beer taps.
Big M was palpably relieved by the fact that HOO had produced nothing quotable at this time. But he was not nearly as palpably relieved as the time Dr Fokter relieved his palps with a round of ring-banding.
When arsed what his view of Merv’s grand final weekend performance, Emmjay might have replied “He gave his all for the Pub Team”. But he really said “I dunno, I wasn’t paying attention – I reckon footy is a fuckin’ waste of time – except that it clears the streets of boof heads for a few hours for half the year – unlike cricket – which clears the streets of flannelled fools for days on end”.
Then he ordered another glass canoe of Trotter’s. Merv winced.