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Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

~ The Home Pub of the Famous Pink Drinks and Trotter's Ale

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

Category Archives: Emmjay

Climbing Aboard the Orient Expression.

15 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

Bathurst, calligrapgy, Chinese painting, Japanese paintings, oriental art, Richard Jones architect circa 1880-1895, Victorian home renovation, Victorian Italianate house

Cambria, 1890

Cambria, 1890

Story and Photograph by Emmjay

Anyone familiar with the plethora of antique ‘auction’ shows on TV will be aware that many people in the west have long held a fascination for things Chinese, Japanese or more broadly ‘oriental’.  And this fascination has found its expression in collections of pottery, ceramic sculpture, carved jade and ivory, scrolls, photography, calligraphy and other paintings.

And so it happened in the long running renovation of the family home – a Victorian Italianate grand terrace (I hesitate to call the pile a “mansion” – it lacks the massive number of rooms expected in the title, although the abode has generous proportions typical of middle class Australia urban homes in the period before the 1890 depression – that FM and I considered how we would decorate the renovated home.

“Cambria” – for she has a name – and always has had – was built in 1890 by one Richard Jones (no relation to the PA habitué, Emmjay).  Richard built the pile in 1890 just before the depression set in – when the poms turned off the credit so necessary to grow a fledgling nation.  Richard was an architect, allegedly responsible for the design of some of the lovely sandstone buildings in Bathurst including the police station and the courthouse.

Richard apparently went broke and sadly passed away in 1895, but he had the forethought to have signed the title over to his wife Elizabeth before his business failed and so the home stayed in the family despite his bankruptcy.  Elizabeth lived here alone until some time in the 1950s and when she died, having no heir, the property passed on to the State of NSW – who turned it into five flats in a boarding house – a half way house for prisoners who had served their time.  Needless to say this was not Cambria’s finest hour and many of the original features – like beautiful crenelated cornices were stripped and discarded.  And a lot of dodgy plumbing, electricals and kitchenette type facilities were built in.

The State decided to sell off the property in the late 1980s and some get rich quick developers of a Mediterranean extraction ripped out some of the offending structures and replaced them with trademark concrete everything including the staircase and the whole backyard – hoping for a quick sale.

FM bought the place in 1994 and set to work on what has been a labour of love – in two massive campaigns – then and now.  She was responsible for removing fibro lean-tos, restoring what could be saved of the façade (allowing for the now art deco door and bay windows on the ground floor), building a new kitchen / family room / laundry / third bathroom and for ripping up the third largest concrete lawn in the known universe.

FM studied horticulture and unaided, planted what is now the best inner city rainforest in Sydney.

Last year FM and Emmjay embarked on the the big bad new renovation – putting a civilised finish on the solid old bones, building in an attic with stairs up to the tower (Richard Jones was also an amateur astronomer who used to set up his telescope up there), arresting the rising damp – which is an enormously disruptive job involving the removal of skirting boards and plaster up to about four feet up the walls, injecting barrier compound and then rendering and replastering,, sealing and repainting) and fully replacing the leaky roof.  As many PA patrons must know, there has been so much paint applied to Cambria that the local vendors gave Emmjay a trade card, a permanent discount and free T-shirts.

So now, as the major jobs (with the exception of renovating bathroom 2 upstairs and the installation of a chunky 4.7kw of solar power – 20 panels) have been completed, small matters like what floor coverings, what soft furnishings and art works might best suit the house and the tastes of we occupants.

FM went off to the local community college and did a course on interior decorating and we have benefitted hugely from her experience and professional support and advice.  Some research suggested that Victorians (the era, not restricted to the state) were fond of things oriental and so we started to study contemporary Chinese, Japanese, Malay, Indonesian and Burmese interior design.

This has co-incided with me beginning to take a more serious interest in ~ and studying things Buddhist – especially as Buddhism is more conventionally understood and taught in the West.  In Inner West cyberia, we have a choice of studying and practising Tibetan, Thai and Japanese (Zen) traditions – or some of each.

We enrolled in a class for Chinese painting and calligraphy and enjoy the weekly sessions of having a go at making marks that are sometimes correct according to tradition and even more startling and rarely, actually pleasant in composition; for me, more by pure accident than intent, although FM exudes capability and artistic sensitivity.

Standing Buddha in lacquered bronze.

Standing Buddha in lacquered bronze.

We have been surprised and often delighted by how well some acquired Asian art fits in with the Victorian spaces and how well the house accepts FM’s long held Persian carpets and the newly acquired 3X4 metre ancient monsters now in the bedroom and the office.

And we have become the bane of local sellers of Asian furniture and art works.  Which brings me to the edge of the next story – Bruce, Odette and the Calligraphy Brush Pot.

to be continued soon….

Everything Good in Moderation

06 Thursday Feb 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 47 Comments

dunnyman

Emmjay

Many patrons of the Pig’s Arms, including myself, have expressed dismay at the recent blood letting in the front bar and for this, I would like to extend my apologies to any patron who feels badly treated.

Most pubs have a blow up from time to time.  Fortunately nobody here has lost a life so far but let’s hope our bouncer Crispin Bacon returns from his stint in the Sydney CBD soon.  Far be it for me to Barry O’Farrellise the Pig’s Arms though and there will, as usual be no closing time here.

Moderating a blog is both time consuming and challenging – balancing a desire for maintaining a venue for free speech with a need to maintain mutual respect amongst individuals, if not always for ideas espoused in the pub. And in moderation, it is very important to not stonewall and kill conversations – a point apparently lost at the ABC.

In the nearly five years that the Pig’s Arms has been open – continuously – we have seen thousands of articles posted, over 400,000 views and around 100,000 comments – although it’s hard to be certain because we need to delete old discussions on the dot and the dump so that the performance doesn’t grind to a halt.

Throughout this time and massive communication space, we have run free (mostly) and I would like to publicly thank Gez, Voice and Hung (also for his brilliant renovations) for their sterling contributions to the administration and moderation effort at the Pig’s Arms. 

However, in the end, the responsibility for maintaining lora norder falls with yours truly.    There can be no ambiguity fielding in slips. As a result, I will be assuming sole admin and moderation duties.

We will return to the mutual respect model whereby comments will be automatically permitted until a commenter plays the man – or woman – instead of the idea – after which that person goes onto a moderation list.

Since I do not have unlimited time to moderate comments I will attempt to cover the bases twice or thrice a day – so expect some delay if you’re an overly contentious, abusive bastard 🙂  Behave and your comments go up more or less immediately.

Fair enough ?

Right.  Drinks on me.

Shark Culling or Palmering it Off

05 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Clive Palmer, coal seam gas, fracking, Greens, shark culling

Our thanks to Steve Lewis and News for the clip

– we love reporters interviewing reporters

Story by Emmjay

Taking a leaf from the controversial WA government playbook, the NSW Department of Consumptive Affairs is about to initiate another shark culling operation.  Unlike WA, the NSW shark cull has widespread multiparty support.

The NSW scheme, like WA aims at lowering the risk of serious lacerations to the state’s punters by instigating a long line baited hook approach.  But unlike WA, no marine creatures will be harmed in the cull, the spokesperson alleged.

The Pig’s Arms government reporter, Tua Manne, spoke briefly (he was wearing briefs) with the Departmental spokesperson who outlined the approach.

Apparently the prey who are normally regarded as the predators are energy mining magnates and the bait will be auctioned CSG fracking permits. The Department anticipates that a flurry of ex-Labor apparatchiks, developers, lobbyists, union officials and massively overweight owners of race horses and professional sporting teams, will be attracted to the bait.

In a clever piece of COAG collaboration, the baits will be trawled from the sterns of inflatable unsinkable rescue craft heading across apparently dangerous marine shark infested waters in the Timor Sea.  The Department is intending to cast off the lines in the general vicinity of the Indo-international maritime border – and who can tell what might happen after that.

Conservationists are concerned that undiscerning marine sharks could unwittingly sample the school of reptiles and white shoe sharks and risk toxic scum poisoning. And not surprisingly, schools of accountant and legal suckerfish are gathering in keen anticipation of a feeding frenzy.

Screw the Taxpayers, Growers, Working People – the Lot

30 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 160 Comments

Tags

Australian jobs, Joe Hockey, SPC Ardmona

banner_spc

Pic borrowed from SPC Ardmona Web Site – with thanks

Story by Emmjay

It’s not often that I can agree with Joe Hockey, assuming that he’s not misinformed,  simply telling lies or shading the truth about bailing out SPC Ardmona.

But if what he said IS true, and that he is unwilling to spot the company a piddling $25M (supposed to be matched by the Victorian citizens who apparently get to kick in twice) AND that SPC Ardmona is owned by Coca Cola Amatil (he alleges made $150M profit for the half year), I reckon, like Joe’s generous body language suggested, the company can go and whistle for their lunch.

Good enough for the Abbott government to tell GMH to piss off ?  Good enough to tell Coca Cola Amatil to do the same.

But typical of all Tory governments, in both cases, the Abbott government by ignoring the consequent impact on growers, rural communities and working families from the direct and flow-on effects of massive job losses,  is simply and utterly contemptible.  It is unacceptable.

Unacceptable to trash national industries without bothering to contemplate alternative business models.

Now I for one don’t put my money where my mouth is as far as buying locally built cars is concerned.  I did once.  It was a Ford Laser- which was really just a Mazda 323 assembled in Australia.  In the last 15 years we have had only 2 cars – Subaru Forresters – something utterly reliable, useful and fun to drive – and recently an Alfa – which is beautiful and fun to drive too.  Until GM started making similar models to the Forrester (but bigger, more expensive, less economical to run and less technically advanced) there was no locally made product we wanted to buy.  Moreover, I was comfortable that other people bought the local monsters and kept the American and Japanese-owned industry afloat, albeit with sizeable taxpayer-funded subsidies.

But SPC Ardmona is different.  This is an iconic Australian group, now owned by Coca Cola Amatil, those guardians of Australian health and well being (the group also includes IXL, Goulburn Valley and …. wait for it …… Weight Watchers and others).  SPC Ardmona is a rurally – concentrated business.

I do purchase their products in preference to mainly cheaper home brand imports from all over the world.  I admit this is not all altruism on my part.  I strongly suspect that canned foods from wherever quite possibly have lax quality controls and are produced with little or no environmental protection laws – and the producers work doing extreme physical labour for slave wages. How else can the products be grown, processed, shipped, stored, wholesaled and retailed for less money than the same foods grown in Australia ?

I have seen documentaries showing indiscriminate use of pesticides in 3rd world countries -pesticides and the like that are now banned in the West.  Worse than that, the documentaries show peasant farmers throwing the stuff around like confetti – no awareness of proper application rates and a huge risk to their personal well being and the future of their children.  Pesticides manufactured by notoriously uncaring multinational corporations getting away with whatever they can.  It doesn’t bear thinking about from where most of our coffee comes and how it is produced.

I generally trust Australian producers and regulatory authorities as much as one can trust anybody these days.  I am glad that our producers do not work for slave wages and that farm production generates lots of flow-on employment.  I am happy to pay a bit more for these products.

But I am not happy to see this Tory government hang the growers and workers of SPC Ardmona products out to dry. The government is right to tell Coca Cola Amatil to go and take a hike.  Like GM, Ford and probably many others ripping off the Australian taxpayers, they have had their snouts in the corporate troughs for long enough.

And these monsters have no right to blackmail Australian governments of any persuasion by threatening job losses.

No more massive subsidies for foreign-owned companies.  Especially to protect them from the free-trade flowing from agreements made by the self same governments.

What then can be done ?

Well, if $50M will keep the last significant Australian fruit cannery alive, let the local stakeholders have the SPC Ardmona business – make it a co-op (once again ?) call the bluff of Coca Cola Amatil.  Increase the tax on Amatil and the other tobacco companies and provide a direct support line of credit until SPC Ardmona get clear of their difficulties.

Surely $50M is trivial money for a national government and for multinational companies – struth, it’s what Gina spends on morning tea.

And Joe spends entertaining Annabel Crabb.

Oedipus Schmoedipus – a view from the Sydney Festival 2014

16 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

Amanda Palmer, Limbo, Oedipus Schmoedipus, Sydney Festival

Pig’s Armchair Critic, E.M. Jay reports from the Festy.

limbo.jpg?w=655

Continuing the approach of last year’s Sydney Festival, 2014 sees a comparatively modest offering lacking big name headline acts (unless Chaka Khan is one of your big names).

Limbo - image borrowed with thanks from the SMH

Limbo – image borrowed with thanks from the SMH

FM and I responded in kind with a modest selection of tickets to the Speigel Tent (Limbo – a passably entertaining cabaret/intimate circus in the round with stunning athleticism. tap dancing that Fred would have admired and some vaguely queasy contortion, sword swallowing and fire-eating).

Amanda Palmer

Night two saw us back in the Spiegel keenly anticipating the work of Amanda Palmer, self styled punk cabaret entertainer.  AP was a member of the sometime famous Dresden Dolls.

She opened with a stirring Ukulele intro, tinkled the Kurzweil synth ivories with gusto and sang up a squall, if not quite a storm and the fan base was well pleased.  Adopting an unusual sensitivity to things Australian, she presented a haunting version of Ted Egan’s “The Drover’s Boy”.

I was discussing the show with Brett (my chiropractor – well, also lots of other people’s chiropractor too) and he said “Don’t know her – what does she do?”  I said “punk cabaret, apparently”.  To which he asked “Punk, eh, did she take her gear off ?” To which I replied “Well, she did the whole performance in her satin slip, but the drover’s boy who did a ghostly walk on, also did a slow strip and a slow walk off.  She was stunningly beautiful in a slim, small puppies kind of way”.  Brett replied that he especially admired small puppies.  he we went on, as usual to talk about motor cycles.  But I digress.

oedipus2-web

Third cab off the rank was Oedipus Schmoedipus (OS) at the Belvoir.  Now FM and I seek out experimental theater at the Syd Festival and we were not disappointed in this respect.  The notion of the play is that great whites (writers not sharks – one of the puns) kill off a lot of their protagonists – Shakespeare being a candidate with definite form.  And the protagonists of OS borrowed about a hundred such extinctions and drifted (as several critics said, off the rails with puns an deliberate inanities borrowed often from TV promos (you’re still having fun and we’re still the one) and other bric-a-brac.

No secret, there was a lot of blood, suicide, murder and mayhem and quite a lot of laughs – except in our session from a woman behind us who remarked in a stage whisper that anyone who had had a suicide in their family might not think this was very funny.  FM was reminded that one of the protagonists had a surprising likeness to the lady on TV who does those online insurance company ads “Hi Rob” – and her quirky literalist humour was evident in abundance.  Some patrons walked out during the blood letting.  readers with working memory might recall that in a previous festival report I bagged out the Sydney Theater Company – under Cate Blanchett  – for concatenation of Shakespeare’s War of the Roses plays on the grounds that it was just a huge downer with a lot of death and not much else.  Well, OS was a lot funnier.

The performance features an extended Greek Chorus of 25 new people off the street – that is, not actors, who each have three hours’ rehearsal – and who read their stage directions off two suspended LED monitors.  There were lots of walk-on-walk-off moments and a fair amount of hilarity with them working vaguely ensemble.

oedipus-WEB

Cross Porpoises

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

Australia Street, Jeffrey Smart, Mondrian Brothers

1959

Since the Mondrian Brothers (plumbers to the Cubists) renovated the Pig’s Arms toilets, traffic had picked up in the water closetry du maison des porcs.   There was some speculation that the queues were the result of the toilets being probably more visually interesting and certainly more comfortable than the front bar.

When Eddie O’Bad’s limo ground to a halt in the Pig’s Arms car park, Hedgie and Gez were sitting in adjacent cubicles, strides around their ankles (less anyone might accuse them of loitering).  Gez was reading his copy of Art Quarterly and Hedgie was reading his copy of Rolling Stone on his iPad and listening to Lou Reed’s last interview.  Difficult and poignant, thought Hedgie, but certainly not Vicious.

“I was walking up Australia Street, the other day” said Hedgie apropos of nothing.

“Hmm” said Gez without breaking stride through the article on Jeffrey Smart’s retrospective”.

“It’s quite a long road, Gez” said Hedgie.

“My word”said Gez.”He was a poofter, you know.”

“Yeah” said Hedgie.”Quite long, but ultimately a dead end. A cul-de-sac.”

“But he could damn well paint” said Gez. “He was a master of composition”.

“So I gather” said Hedgie. “I think it’s sad that a street with such a promisingly patriotic name should turn out to be a dead end”.

“Dead end” said Gez. “I particularly appreciate the way he places solitary figures in the landscape”.

“It’s a very inner west kind of streetscape” said Hedgie.  “Long, thin, houses cheek by jowl, lean and hungry”.

“Sometimes fat and overweight” said Gez.  “One of his most famous paintings has a one-armed fat man standing at the entrance tunnel to the Cahill Expressway”.

“People park their cars right up each other’s arses” said Hedgie. “The street is so narrow”.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to park on the Cahill Expressway” said Gez. “That’s why there’s no cars in the painting”.

“The people who live there paint their houses really shite colours” said Hedgie. “If they bother to paint them at all.

“He uses really striking contrasting primary colours” said Gez. “And his contrasts also run to placing urban objects like roadworks, factories, giant housing blocks, right out in the countryside”.

“It’s ironic that the houses are painted so shite, because there’s a paint shop on the corner of Carillon Ave” said Hedgie. “I can’t believe that they manage to make a quid”.

“His paintings sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars” said Gez. “and they hardly ever come on the market”.

“It’s fuckin’ amazing how expensive these pissy little houses are in Australia Street” said Hedgie. “Hundreds of thousands of dollars”.

“Hundreds” said Gez. ‘Probably more since he’s carked it”.

“Who ?” said Hedgie. “Who’s carked it ?”

“Jeffrey Smart” said Gez.

“Does he live in Australia Street ?” said Hedgie.

“No, he’s fuckin’ dead !” said Gez. “But he was living in Tuscany before he died”.

“But did he come home to Australia Street to die ?” said Hedgie.

“I don’t think so” said Gez.  I think he died in Tuscany”

“Well, they have probably have shite health care in Tuscany is why” said Hedgie. “Not like they can take a dash up to RPAH for a kick start”.

“He was fuckin’ 91” said Gez.

“And he was still painting houses ?” said Hedgie.  “That’s amazing”.

“I put it down to good Italian tucker” said Gez.

“Speaking of tucker” said Hedgie.  “I’m done with staying up to date with the music scene.  What about a jar and some grub ?”

“Yeah, good” said Gez. “I heard something huge crushin’ the gravel in the car park.  I reckon the provisions are in”.

“Yeah, good” said Hedgie, wondering how he was going to stand up since his legs had gone to sleep from reading on the dunny for too long. “See you downstairs”.

“Wash your hands” said Gez.

“Yeah. good” said Hedgie.

 

Eddie Moves In

07 Thursday Nov 2013

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 30 Comments

Tags

Crispin Bacon, drive-by shooting, Eddie O'Bad

Eddie's Better Side

Eddie’s Better Side

Story by Emmjay

Merv was looking worried.  Well, Merv was almost always looking worried.

“What’s the John Dory ?” inquired Hung.

“It’s our new neighbour” said Merv.

“What, you’re having a cow over some dude moving into the place the other side of Rosie’s Tattoo Emporium and House of Pain ?” said Hung.

“Not just any dude, Hung.  This one raises dodgy to a whole new level.  THIS ONE (Merv cleared his throat and most of the front bar) is none other than Eddie O’Bad” said Merv.

Stunned silence fell hard upon the front bar of the Pig’s Arms.

“That’s right, dear patrons – none other than Father O’Way’s archdiocese nemesis” said Merv.

“Holy Haloumi”, said Hung, “Falafel me dead.  O’Bad’s got a ladyfinger in every pide in town”.

Jules could have sworn he heard a faint trace of the theme to ‘the Magnificent Seven’ – or maybe it was the prelude to the ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral’.

A swirl of dust made its way across the car park, dragging a reluctant tumbleweed dislodged from Danny’s long-deceased car yard next door.  The street was deserted – not so much in the way of one of Granny’s after the main course trifles – more by way of the desert sands that were starting to encroach from Erskineville.  It was silent outside save for the mournful wail of the wind and the ghostly whiff of baking biscuits from the old Peak Frean’s factory – gone the way of the Wagon Wheels of Hung’s youth.

Nobody could remember when the honky-tonk piano had arrived in the Pig’s Arms front bar and nobody could recall the crusty old presdidigitator ever playing anything other than “Walk the Line” – over and over and effing over.  And so against a constant backdrop of innerwestern cyberian sallonery, they knocked back shots of pink liquor and chanced their hands at 3 card stud klondike blackjack poker or Yukon whist snap when they weren’t thinking about having a go at some Old Maid.

“It’s pretty draughty here, all of a sudden, Merv” said Hung, sidling up to a tall stool at the end of the bar with a commanding view of the car park. “So why are you sitting at the end of the bar with the commanding view of the car park, Hung ?” inquired Merv without any expectation of a reply that was likely to make sense.

“It’s the Wild Bill Hickock, move, Merv”, said Hung (who never disappointed with a reply).  “The one time he broke his own rule and sat with his back to the door, some mongrel wandered in and shot him in the back”.

“Do you know something that would be really good to share with me at this point, Hung?”

“Look, I’m not sayin’ anything like ‘drive by shootin’, Merv”, said Hung, “But if I was you and you was me and Eddie O’Bad moved into my territory like he’s movin’ into your patch – the patch that turns a fair amount of foamy amber liquid into liquidity, I’d be lookin’ up the phone number of our old mate Crispin Bacon and hopin’ he was in town and open for hire”.  And I’d be hopin’ that the Pig’s Arms archangel Father O’Way was on his…”

The sudden cessation of the piano playing left a sizeable hole in the soundtrack of the pub.  It was filled by the impressive arrival of a largish black limo with seriously opaque windows drawing to a gravel-crushing halt in the Pig’s Arms car park, followed by the ‘kerthunk’ closing of four doors.  And then the sound of the speed dial on Merv’s mobile…

Canberra – Whatfor Art Thou ? A Competition

28 Monday Oct 2013

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 50 Comments

Tags

150 word competition, Canberra

canberra-2

Time Waster by Emmjay

Over at our friends’ place at Crikey, they ran a competition about whether Canberra was wonderful or the armpit of the Nation:

http://blogs.crikey.com.au/theurbanist/2013/10/21/is-canberra-the-worst-city-in-australia/

My Entry didn’t place (how surprising), but I liked the idea of a succinct take on our National Capital –  and stuff them for a laugh !       Here it was:

Canberra – Remandberra

Lest I be criticised because of a perceived bias against our Nation’s hapless capless, let me first say that there are some extremely pleasant and cheerful folks who dally there on their way to somewhere significant.  I think I just made that up to create a false sense of balance.

They allegedly hold massive art extravaganzas in The National Gallery.  People go in droves but few return.  It’s like a cubist Bermuda Triangle.

But that’s it for Canberra.  It’s a place that people drift into – the same way as they do in a remand centre.

Canberrans have the appearance of mice that have just received invitations to the Snake’s Picnic Day.  Things will soon get far better or much worse – depending on the caprice of what is laughingly referred to these days as “a career move”.

And like a remand centre, Canberra is a place with dodgy food and even more suspect travelling companions.  I say “Take a return ticket, a cut lunch and watch your back”.

Emmjay of the Pig’s Arms.

There is only 1 rule in the Pig’s Arm’s Canberra competition: Max 150 words. 

Have a go yourself ! 

Best entry wins FM’s Pig’s Arms black polo shirt – (never worn !)

as seen on the famous Emmjay Edition of Seniors’ Quarterly

Foodge #47 – The Secret in the Carpark

22 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 46 Comments

Tags

carpark grave, Foodge, Harold Holt

 PMG

Story by Emmjay

Merv ?

Yes, Foodge.

Did you see that show on TV last night where they dug up Henry the Eighth in a carpark ?

It was Richard the third.

A round of snickering swept through the pub – “Richard the Third” being slang for “turd”, but owing to the extreme laziness of the Pig’s Arms patrons, it was usually Shortened ( Billed) to “R3” as in “Manne, go outside and clean that doggy R3 off your shoe, please mate, ta”.

“Richard the Third”, Foodge corrected himself. (Snigger, wave 2).

Yeah.

I was just thinking”, said Foodge.

“Pop” a thought bubble visible to everyone except Foodge appeared beside Merv’s head.  It read “Oh, struth, here we go !”

“You know that shiela who reckoned he was buried under the “R” in the carpark ?” asked Foodge.

Yeah, I thought she was havin’ herself on.  You know “R” for “Reserved” said Merv.

“Yeah, but no.  She was right, Merv.”

“Yeah, I know, but it was a fuckin huge fluke, Foodge.”

“I don’t think so”, said Foodge. “I think she was claw footed”

“Clairvoyant”, Merv offered.

“Yeah, what you said”, said Foodge.  I think there was something in the message in the carpark that that shiela picked up on”, said Foodge.

“Where’s this going Foodge ?” Merv wondered.  This time his lips gave an audible update on the thought bubble.

“I was just thinking…”, repeated Foodge, “I think Harold Holt is buried in the Pig’s Arms car park”, and he opened up the sluice gates for another Trotter’s Ale.

“What makes you think that ?” Merv said, preparing for a long run of leg pulling.

“You know that metal plaque in the car park next to The Pig’s Legs Waxing and and Beauty Parlour’s drums of discarded eyebrows ?” said Foodge.

“What metal plaque ?” said Merv.

“The one marked ‘PMG’ ”, said Foodge. “I reckon that stands for ‘Prime Minister’s grave”.

“Do you, now ?” said Merv.

“Nah”, said Manne. “People notice when a PM goes missing.”

“For some reason, I am given to recall that Harold Holt went missing”, said Hung warming to the task of setting Foodge up nicely – with an added faint smile of approval at the remembrance of Harold Holt getting his snorkel in a twist.

“Nah” said Merv. “If it was Harold Holt down there, the plaque would say ‘PMH’”.

“Nah”, said Granny. “That’s a kind of condiment sauce thing in a square bottle.”

“I think you’re thinking of ‘Worcestershire”, said Merv.

“Nah, that’s HP sauce”, said Hung.

“I was thinking that it could be Harold Holt buried in the car park of the Pig’s Arms”, said Foodge dragging the wild speculation back onto the rails. “

“I think you’re on to something, Foodge”, said Merv. “I’ll call up Terry and see if some of his mates from the University can give us a hand and check this out properly”.

Righto”, said Foodge. “I’ll park the Zephyr over the plaque for protection.  This could be a Libnat Party sacred site.

“Merv doesn’t know anyone in the University”, Granny whispered to Hung.

“Course he doesn’t” said Hung.

Merv’s thought bubble evaporated in the shape of a Cheshire cat.

to be continued …..

Football Playing Junkies

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

AFL, NFL

Pig’s Arms Opinion

Is it true that AJL professional drug takers have often been caught playing football ?

What kind of message is that sort of behavior sending Australia’s youth ?

Playing sport while being whacked is madness and should not be encouraged.

These people are letting the side down and they should get back on the couch and chill out with some junk food and more sponsors’ product.

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