Category Archives: Mark

Merv wants a Robot

15 Tuesday Oct 2019

Posted by in Mark

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Don’t buy these robots. They forget things.

 

Merv and the Robot.

As usual, it’s Merv that attends to the bar jobs, oh yes, so that the pub is open for business, helps pay off his 457 visa card or something like that. Never been great with pames or naplces, don’t know why, it’s not that I’m a drongo or anything.

As bar manager, Merv needs to attend to a level of acceptable bar etiquette, like no guns, pitchforks, effigies or blow up replicas, for example, voodoo dolls, just sayin’ like.

Did you hear that…

Today however, something unusual is happening at the Pigs Arm’s, no one is calling for the government to step down and they’re all too busy drinking Trotter’s Lager to worry about it. And let’s face it, why shouldn’t they be.

Meanwhile, in the office, out the back, so no one can really tell what’s happening, Merv calls to Foodge, you know our own private dick and barrister, “Come and have a look at this Foodge, a typewriter and a television screen rigged up together. Can’t see it getting far but who nose.”

“No, you just said who nose, when you meant who knows. Are you a moron Merv, even O’Hoo nose the difference between who knows and you nose or even, fuck  nose.”

Merv isn’t put off by the bar banter, he starts to stay up late at night learning how to use this typewriter and make orders for the pub and eventually he looks up a website that sells robotic barman. Can you see where this is heading, I can and I’m the author.

See Merv has only ever had one day off since the beginning of the Pigs Arms. What better than an AI(Artificial Intelligence) robot to do your job. Yes a holiday.

Yeah, just hangin’ round.Trotter’s on the house…

“Hey Merv, this robot you have ordered so you can have a holiday, can do everything better quicker faster, why do we need you when you come back” says someone. Okay, if you what to know who that someone is ask Big M, not that he said it.

Something in Merv thinks, oops. Okay let’s send it back.

Algernon wanders in , shotgun cocked, brain, well, engaged, “WTF is that whatever your name is that I’m talking to”

“It’s Merv Sir. He’s got a reply email from the Postmaster that says Do Not Reply” says the script reader.

After wanting to return the robot barman, Merv sent this email to the robot company that had told him that he couldn’t reply. Merv was fuming. Here is a redacted form of Merv’s reply, just in case there are kiddies watching,

Wot

Dear Automated Email,

Thank you for your request. I just wish to tell you how much I miss you.

Fond memories pervade over this valley of time given your lengthy absence.

Hoping the rumours about your ill health aren’t true otherwise it has been nice knowing you.

Love

Merv

************

“Merv, you can say that about whatever” says Nurse Barbara. “Maybe you want to talk to that bloke over there. He’s been asking about emails and Moooovveee which I reckon might mean Merv. And he has been talking about cans of magic elixir.” Wink, wink, oh my Gordon, how far do I have to go thinks Nurse Barbara. Jesus Fucking Christ I give up,sorry kiddies.

Just as a mosquito was about to fly by, a man entered the bar at the Pigs Arms. He ordered a beer and said “Has anyone here ever heard of a bloke called Merv?”

“Nah mate, who the eff are you?” says someone to whom I haven’t aligned this comment to.

“My name is Nap O’Leon and here is a can of my magic elixir” says the bloke that says

get some of this down ya

this. Nap O’Leon places a can on a bar. “This is French champagne” he continues “I’m from French and I’m here to investigate an email that was sent to our No Reply Email service. The depression rate in our Postmaster Offices has increased. We must stop this or else.”

“Hey fellas, how about a dip in the ocean before our next chug along?” says Sister Yvonne.

“Nah, that would put me fag out” replies Nurse Barbara.

“What about the French champagne. Hasn’t it just been proven that nothing plus nothing equals something” says Foodge, our community sitarist.

“Oh no, not this hoary old chestnut however it is ridiculously delicious just like I like my boiled eggs sunny side up.” replies Nap O’Leon.

“I’ve bet you have never been to a fuel and produce store, hmm, didn’t think so, follow me dribbler” says a really surprising retort from one of the list of characters that could possibly answer so this time I’ll go to Sister Yvonne.

“Have you any fuel or produce?” Yvonne asks the young assistant behind the counter.

“No, but I do like chicken”. Yum, yum.

Trotter’s Lager

Merv versus Nothing

28 Sunday Jul 2019

Posted by in Mark

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I’m glad we have a conservative government…


Merv was feeling quite unrestrained. He’d read an article in the newspaper that said “nothing is good for your health…”, wow, how powerful is that sort of shit. What he didn’t read was the next paragraph which just happened to say “except for a Trotter’s Ale”, don’t just some facts interfere with a good way of living, I think so and I’m not even Merv, just the low grade author.

Merv is standing behind the bar, index fingers and thumbs clasped and eyes closed, thinking of nothing he nothingly thinks when in walks Father Sandy O’Way, you know, our parish priest from the Church of St Generic Brand.

“Hi Merv, pint of the best , granny’s special and a cone of the good stuff, nah, only kidding, on the wagon this week. Nah, Triple bourb’ instead.”

“Sorry Sandy but I’ve read that nothing is good for your health and from now on I’m going to do nothing as much as possible to keep in good health.”

“Yessss Merv but what you are now doing now is something because you are talking to me.” Sandy’s starting to have some second thoughts about this whole conversation.

“ Yesss but Sandy, I’m really worried, if I have nothing in this hand and nothing in the other hand surely this gives me nothing.”

“Um,er, yessss. You know, we need Foodge.” Foodge is the local private detective and barrister that drinks down at the Pigs Arms. He also smokes to much, eats too many wedgies and is a terrible punter so he tends to need the wealth to flow to the needy lawyers so this episode can run for a little bit longer. Let’s go to court, yee ha.

Foodge has a spiv

 

Well the court session has been called and unfortunately we have landed the hanging judge, Sir Suppository.

“All rise…” dribble. The judge has been asked to rule on a definition of nothing versus something.

“I sentence the defendant to death by hanging” states Sir Suppository.

“But Me Lud, no evidence has been stated” says Foodge for the defence. Anyhoo,

“Oh, shit, what about the prosecution?” barks the aperient of knobility, Sir Suppository, pretending he knows what’s going on. And look I say good luck to him because I’m writing this and I don’t know what’s going on.

“This is an arbitration matter Me Lud, two bits of nothing equals nothing. We argue that if you have nothing in one hand and nothing in the other hand then at the end of the day you have nothing” says John Citizen of your local Credit Card Legal Firm.

“I interject your suppository, if I have nothing in one hand and nothing in the other I therefore have two bits of nothing therefore I have something”[Geeps, just what I need now is a Donna Summer song] asserts Foodge.

Go Foodge otherwise Merv will be hanged and someone else will have to pour the beers, poor us.

“Me Lud, I will present a case that will irreparably oops I mean irrefutably resolve the whole issue.” Oh Gordon[the inventor of the universe], I love spinning out a story. Have I mentioned hanging Merv yet, hmm, just asking, for a friend like, you know.

“What’s this Me Lud shit?” says Me Lud.

“It’s a minced form of My Lord and it’s found in the No Idea Major Crossword Me Lud, August 2017, Edition 4, Pages 121-122, 389 and 392 Across, two words, minced form of legal brownnose, just sayin’ Me Lud.”

My darling, I have a case to hear

“Oh FFS, lets get on with it and that’s coming from Me Lud.” Don’t know whether I should say Me Lud or not at this point, I mean all that extra typing. Lets face it, typing prevents so many good stories from being told as I would be flat out typing about them.

Foodge rises to the stand “ I call Pythagoras Me Lud” as the court gasps.

Foodge pushes on. This is mind numbing stuff, one of those events when people will sit around at parties in the future saying, where were you when Foodge called Pythagoras to the witness stand so that Merv didn’t get hanged for saying that two times nothing is something. Wow man, this is unbelievable and I make this shit up.

“Now Pythagoras can you recall to the court your early life and the effect that it had on you?” pleads Foodge.

“Well, yeah, like, it was shit, like yeah, you know, shit yeah like you know, then this geeza hits me right, with a stick right, and it breaks right, I arrange it in different patterns then this gezza , Socrates was his name, smart geeza always wanting

Yes a2 +b2 = c2

someone to think for themselves, I mean, ever heard of anything more stupid then that, you know, so I arranged it like you know, drink hemlock, gets ya pissed, you know, like and den all of a sudden I writ this book, Equilateral Triangles for Dummies, den you know, the rest is history.”

“The witness may stand down. Mr Foodge I suggest your witness should indeed consult an encyclopaedia before telecasting Socrates. Anyone else?” says Me Lud.

“Yes Me Lud, I call George Boole.”

“Anyone else alive Mr Foodge?”

“No Me Lud. Liveliness tends to get in the road of a good story.” Foodge pushes on, again.

“So Mr Boole, is it possible for nothing to have a value?”

“Well, um, er, um, ah, um I sorta don’t know, yes, no, maybe.”

“But Sir, you are an architect of the modern age of communication, I put it to you Sir, has nothing got a value?” asserts Foodge.

“True”

“And what is that value?”

“False”

“Me Lud, I rest my case. If my client has nothing in one hand and nothing in the other then therefore he has something.”

The roar from the gallery was amazing…

The court erupts with joy. Complete strangers hug and kiss, TV presenters pretend they like each other, cameramen take photos of men and women rejoicing in confetti lined streets so that in 50 years time we can all try and guess who they were, oh yes isn’t living in Inner Cyberia just wonderful, isn’t it?

Sandy goes to Britain

12 Wednesday Jun 2019

Posted by in Mark

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Hello Britain, it’s me Sandy

Hi, Sandy here, you know Father O’Way, your local parish priest from the Church of St Generic Brand which is down the road and around the corner from the Pigs Arms Hotel.

So when you drop in here from now on you will only see me in the background, you know, casual, gig economy. Exploited I think the other word for it is, just sayin’ like. I’m sure you can see the analogy.

Anyhoo, something has happened, I got a call from the Bish, you know Bishop Bishop the one we all affectionately call the Bish. As usual he rang early in the morning, about eleven o’clock, bastard, I hate early mornings and he knows it.

My wake up call…

Ring, ring, ring ring, ring, ring ring, ring, ring ring, ring, ring ring, well I could let this go on for a while so I can get my word count up but I’ll put you out of your misery and answer the phone.

“Retired priest Sandy speaking” knowing full well that it will be the Bish.

“Sandy, we have a problem” says the Bish. No Bish you have the problem but wish to push it onto me.

“You need to have Brekkie in Britain with Princess Theresa about the EU’s” barks the Bish.

“Well, I’m retired, hate breakfast and am scared of emu’s and where is Britain?” I ask knowing I won’t want to know the answer.

“Britain is somewhere between the North Pole and the South Pole. EU, not emus and Bex-it not breaky or something like that. Now I’m in Cairns so I can’t go and Gordon has said we must get this sorted otherwise there may be no cricket this summer.”

Oh FFS, cricket, the most boring game in the universe.

“So working in cans must be very restrictive for you Bish, I mean how do you go to the toilet?”

“Cairns is a town you ninny, somewhere between the North Pole and the South Pole”

A coupla cans…

vibrates the Bish. “Now get over there and sort this mess out. If Gordon can’t watch cricket this summer it will be on your shoulders!!”

Gordon is the creator of the universe by the way and he taught every simian based planet to play cricket, speak English and develop money. Hmm, starting to think that Gordon may be a loser.

So to get to Britain, I’m not going to fly any more, stuff that. I will go by boat. Much more relaxed and in a style to which I have become accustomed. Yeah, so I go by a cruise ship.

On deck I decide to go for a walk on the poop deck. Now one needs to be very careful from this point about what is said otherwise something is going to hit the fan, get the picture. I mean, I’m up to my heels in poop, thank Gordon they are high heels.

I meet some of the crew,

“Hi, I’m Chris the captain, I look after everyone’s cap”

“Hi, I’m Pete the purser, I look after everyone’s purse”

“Hi, I’m Paul the Petty Officer, I look after all the small things”

“Hi, I’m Colin the coxswain, I look after everyone’s c…”

“Yes, I’m sure you do” I timely interrupt. Let’s face it, on a PG site there may be kiddies watching.

SS Minnow

The cruise was wonderful and many a rip roaring good time happened, I think. I mean we may not have had a good time but I don’t remember unless I have to remember for some sort of remembering reason. Just sayin’ like.

We arrived in Britain and headed for number ten, the home of the prime minister. It was lovely inside, nice curtains, open fire and tea and scones, Blackwood sideboard, I mean this was class, real class. No plastic forks anywhere to be seen in this place.

“We’re here to advise Princess Theresa about emus and eggs for breakfast” says Sandy.

“Sorry but she’s out” comes the reply.

“But she promised…”

“Sorry, she’s washing her hair, having a high colonic, writing stories for the Pigs Arms…”

“Oh, shit, well there goes a good story.”

Yep, let’s sit this one out…

Father O’Way – Early Years #3

12 Sunday May 2019

Posted by in Mark

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A reprise from the great Hung One On (aka Mark)

20020071-young-priest-holding-bible-over-white-background

Billy Bishop holding this months copy of Big and Bouncy[1]

If you haven’t read parts 1 and 2 then this won’t make any sense, not that it does anyway. Dem is here,

https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/02/11/father-oway-the-early-days-1/

and if still brave

https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/02/15/father-oway-the-early-days-2/

We all sweet.

So Billy went and became a trainee priest at the Church of St Generic Brand and we lost touch. Sad actually, Billy was my best mate for years and now I could no longer go home I was all alone. Isn’t sadness a funny thing because if you have never had happiness you won’t know what sadness is. Crikey, that’s a worry, that even made sense anyhoo I’m going to skip sadness and stick with happiness from now on, er, um, whatever that means.

[Mark here Sandy, get on with it, you’re using up the word count]

Darn the truth hurts sometimes. Verbosity was never my strong point, can’t think why, maybe my low literacy skills might have something to do with it but I doubt it. As my English teacher once said, oops, hang on, I never listened to him so lets just drop that one. And if I ever see the truth in one of these stories I will tell you and that’s a lie. You can trust me on that one for sure.

Anyhoo, I got a job making wing nuts in a factory down the road with board and lodgings at Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise’s Commorancy. Its next door to Glenda’s House of Pain and around the corner from the hotel, the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle better know as The Pigs Arms.

The job was really hard, it took peak physical fitness, extreme intelligence and a high level of dexterity and of course I had none of those qualities therefore I was a perfect fit for the job. So you put a nut and a wing together in a machine, push a button and hey presto you have a wing nut. Thirty in one go and watch dem fingers and toes, it’s considered appropriate to fully check each digit before going home, hmm. I think gender may determine that count but lets not go there although I’m finding it difficult to resist.

Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise was a wonderful mother to all us challenged boys and you were able to tell which day of the week it was by the flavour of the sauce, curry, chilli, garlic and mushroom all with pasta de jour but Sunday night was always chicken roast, yumbo. A hearty breakfast and sandwiches and fruit for smoko and it was all ten times better than Sow End High but then again that wouldn’t take much.

Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise took all our wages and gave us some spending money for the weekend, generosity to the max, for sure. Anyhoo, I spent most of my spare time down the park kicking the soccer ball and dreaming about building another robot just like when I was a kid. Then I saw this man approach me in a weird suit, like the one you would get from a weird suit shop but it was a priest, collar and all.

“Gidday Sandy” said the bloke, well I guess he has done his home work. Didn’t you hate that as a kid, come home from school and continue working. Dear oh dear, what sort of world did we grow up in. Anyway I digress which is the only thing I’m good at.

I looked hard at him, so hard in fact that my eyes were hurting. My eyes were telling my brain to go way and procreate but in some other words that may be considered rude. Go on brain think of something to do however my neural pathways returned this message “Unfortunately your operating system is going to shut down. Press any key you like, it won’t make any difference…”  Notice the dots at de end, why day do dat?

I awoke on the ground with my head between a priest’s legs. I was groaning, I could feel this throbbing sensation in my head umm, umm, but is was Billy, Billy Bishop, my best mate. Billy was helping me up off the ground and you thought! well I never. He still had that wicked grin sort of like a Cheshire Cat but not full breed, maybe half-breed that had luckily been run over by a lorry.

“Billy how the sexual intercourse are you?” I cried with joy. Billy looked really well, happy and by the look of him well fed. We hugged and shook hands. This was unbelievable and this is fiction and even I’m believing it’s real, wow.

“I’m great, the church is a fantastic place. Look tomorrow is Sunday, come over, watch the

6459934-funny-priest-with-mean-nun-holding-ruler
Sister Horribleness and Father Veri Bent

service and have lunch. It will be a great day out and you and I can talk all the bulldung we like. Starts at 10” says Billy. Notice how the boys are keeping the language down, someone under 45 may be watching this. Believe me this 45 thing is real. One never knows, anyhoo I, um, yep, you get the picture.

“Well Billy, you know that me and sexually intercoursing Church’s was never my strong point” I speak, with tongues, not really but sounds wicked don’t it. And to be honest I never made Churches a point to start with.

Billy pulls out the old grin trick. Apparently your mouth can form into a semi-crescent of some kind and the other apes think you are showing you like them. Even I don’t  believe this.

“Well okay then” I say “but please don’t shove this down my throat and yes it would be great to get together and tell porkies about how great we once were.” I commit.

Laughs all round. We shook hands and Billy headed off to the church which by the way is just down the road and round the corner, just like everything else in Inner Cyberia.

We think therefore we are sand.

Authors Notes:

Comments between square brackets [ ] are usually conversations between the character and the author, or some other character like Mike the Editor. Don’t be alarmed be alert.

[1] Billy has assured me that Big and Bouncy is a basketball magazine, for sure, I mean this is fiction and even I don’t buy that, well not until next time.

Father O’Way – the Early Years #2

10 Friday May 2019

Posted by in Mark

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Father Veri Bent
Father Veri Bent, readying himself to talk to the boys at Sow End High

A reprise from the great Hung One On (aka Mark)

WARNING: Do not consume liquids while attempting to read this story. Please ensure the cat is outside and if lucky it will be run over by a lorry. That way you will get more of your drink back. Keep tissues handy and it’s best to blow your nose before starting. If you understand the story then good for you!!!

If you haven’t read part 1 then go to the link below. Do so at your peril then come back here.

https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/02/11/father-oway-the-early-days-1/

All good. Okay, here’s what happens next.

One day mum said “You start school on Monday Sandy” as mothers sort of tend to do, especially when your name is Sandy and your mother is actually speaking to you. You know that no matter how much they love you, they always have the guts to tell you the truth. The truth, at times, can be hard to take and as it works out its up to you bozo, anyway I digress which is the only thing I’m actually any good at.

“Oh” I replied trying to ignore her. School rhymes with tool, is full of fools and then you get taught by mules, who by the way tried their hardest as mules do. How am I going to get out of this.

“Yes, Monday, try to do your best and get ready for the O’Way jokes” winked Mum. What’s an O’Way joke?[1]

So I went to school and did all the usual things you do on the first day, like wet your pants or say something stupid like “The man in the picture has a beard. I hate men with beards“, can you hear  the alarm bells ringing, I can now but not then.

When I got home mum asked, “So how was your day? What classes are you having tomorrow?”
“You mean I have to go back tomorrow” I asked with sinking heart.
“Yes, and for the next 10 years or so” said Mum. Wow, did I kill someone and no one told me, where are you Brian?[2]

So life became irrevocably changed. I wanted to keep working on the circuit boards in Dad’s shed to build my next robot but oh no I had to go to school. Just to learn a heap of stuff that I already new. This was frustration to the extreme.

Until along came a new boy called Billy, Billy Bishop, well it was William really but we all called him Billy. Me and Billy became best mates, footy, cricket you name it we played it all. As we approached the final part of Junior school me and Billy decided to steal a few oranges from the local orchard. Now what we didn’t know was the owner just happened to be patrolling the area, carrying an Anti Orange Stealer Device sometimes referred to as an AK-47. The owner demonstrated it’s firing prowess by discharging some ammunition contained in the magazine in our general direction. Now if you have heard of the saying “a rock and a hard place” then you will understand that having a rock and a hard place in front of you when you are being shot at by an AK-47 can be seen as a positive outcome. The future can never look dark, well not until next time any way.

Have you ever been that lucky that the Pleece[3] arrived, well the Pleece arrived. Probably saved our lives but took us to the station to be charged. Oops, I forgot to tell you, stealing oranges in Inner Cyberia is major offence. It’s up there with tax evasion except with tax evasion you just get richer whereas stealing oranges is a jail term. I’m sure you can see the analogy.

So me and Billy were sent to the Sow End High School for Boys with Criminal Records, yes I know the SESBCR, try an make an acronym out of that why don’t you! There were some weird types at the school, kids that could do the Rubric Cube in 5 seconds, use calculators and recite Pi to 25 decimal places, hmm, I know, scary. Luckily Billy new karate and I knew four be two so after awhile they left us alone.

School was a trudge and as evil orange stealer’s me and Billy were there till finishing year. At first mum would visit and see how I was going. Then after a while mum stopped coming and sent letters till I got this one

“Dear {Insert your name here}
We have had to let your room out so you can’t come home ever again. We all miss you {Insert your name here}
Mum”

Touching to the extreme. Better cross her off the Christmas list, not that I ever send any cards anyway. The school was put in charge of our finishing year and one day a priest visited to talk to us about becoming priests. As usual we had to attend another boring lecture. Let’s choose, hmm, have the crap belted out of you or go to some silly talk by a priest of all things. God mate, no such thing. The easiest way to prove that is why didn’t my favorite team win a game last year, see! Move over.

The priests name was Father Veri Bent, Veri being short for Veritas of course. Father Bent told us he came from the Church of Saint Generic Brand where all religions are tolerated and the only rule is you don’t proselytise, what ever that means. Father Bent was promoted to Bishop and so there would be vacancies for any “kind hearted” boys out there. Get me out of here was all I could think. Religion is best left until the kiddies are at least 45, sound familiar, well at least it has some continuity but not much.

Later, Billy said “Sandy, I’m going to become a priest at that church, you know from that bloke, Monsenior  Bendover or whatever”
“Surely you jest” I jested.
“Nah think of it” said Billy, “they feed you, provide you a house and all you have to do is wear a funny gown and listen to people’s problems, yeah…” dreamed Billy.

Authors Notes.

[1] Go for it.

[2] Interesting, my sense of humor is usually a bit obtuse but I like that gag. I did admire most of Glenn Robins work, well I believe it was him on Comedy Company???

[3] Thanks to the writers of the Foodge series changing the word Police to Pleece for ever. I’ve even told my spell checker to go away and except it, well I didn’t really but you know under forty fives could be watching without parental control, never know and we don’t want to use swear words now, do we.Scary.

Father O’Way – The Early Days 1

27 Saturday Apr 2019

Posted by in Mark

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february 11, 2016 by mark, posted in before space, father o’way, the early days

Wong O'Way
I’m the one not in the photo
Yes, you are…. that one-piece and wig doesn’t fool me, Hung !

Story by the Mighty Hung One On – a reprise of 2016

Yes well hello. This is the beginning I suppose so I guess that you will all want to know what has happened. I was born, hmm, no, I mean yes, I was born but perhaps we don’t want to go there, well not just yet. Look, lets get down to facts. This is true fiction and no lies have been added to this story unless it has been necessary and it seems it has been necessary quite a lot.

My name is Sandy, well sort of, my real name is Alexander however I prefer Sandy. I mean lets face it, Sandy is better than Alex or Al or something. One reason I prefer Sandy is acronyms, yes acronyms. See my real name is Alexander Leonard Lyndhurst O’Way, ALLOW, dreadful isn’t it, so over time I have developed a love hate relationship with acronyms. Anyway as the story develops you will see what I mean.

So yes, I was born at the Inner Cyberia Hospital(ICH) and as little kids we couldn’t resist putting a “T” in there to make it ITCH as we all reckoned that if you ever went to hospital you always came home with an itch. Sorry, what was that, you have never heard of Inner Cyberia? Well it’s next to Middle Cyberia and on the other side of Outer Cyberia. Pretty simple really. Anyway I was born at the ITCH and unfortunately taken home by the wrong family. See I was born right on change of shift which immediately put me off side with the staff. Nurses hate having to do anything during hand over and guess what, that was me. Well my new family were Chinese and they named me Zing Zang however they gave me a nick name, Nick, phew, imagine trying to explain away Zing Zang when the local bullies are just about to bash you.

My dad, Walter, a very wealthy man, was a watch maker and he was very proud of his shop “Walter Wong’s Watches” (WWW) being displayed across the front in large letters. “One day all this will be yours Nick ” he would say. Well dad, my name is actually Zing Zang but hey, never call me a pedant as I don’t even know what that means. I think you have it on toast for breakfast, pedant butter and funny, yumbo.

My dad was always looking to get richer. He used to tinker with computers and one day at a large family gathering my Dad said “You know, one day computers will communicate with each other via the phone line, the information will be broken up into packets and reassembled at the other end.” “Preposterous!!” came the cries and the next day the men in white coats, other wise known as purse carrying nancy boys, came and took my dad away.

Soon after that the police arrived. My mum was feeling bad because she missed dad but more importantly she had just broken a fingernail, as you do, and the policeman said “Mavis” that’s my mum’s name, “Mavis you’ve brought home the wrong child from the hospital” “Yes, that’s right the Wong child, my Nick” replied mum in her broken English. “No the wrong, wrong child” emphasised the policeman “He’s a Wong” said mum, “No wrong, w.r.o.n.g. child meaning Nick isn’t yours” and so I was taken away to my new family, Farter and Mafarter O’Way.

My new family were poor but really good to me. They didn’t eat fish and rice like the Wong’s but lamb and potatoes instead. My dad was a Traffic Control Officer with the Main Roads dept., otherwise known as a lollipop man, good for a lick for a zac[2] to go to the shop, and my mum was a farmer’s daughter. But, my English teachers will cringe with me starting a sentence with but, but hey, who gives a fun, then they went and named me Alexander, hmm.

This was all very different and it took me a long time to adjust. The great thing was that my first mum and dad became good friends with my second mum and dad, so in the end I had two sets of parents. Farter and Walter would debate every issue under the sun while Mafarter and Mavis would trade recipes and take turns at cooking the main dinner, life was pretty good. And of course the real Zing Zang was nicknamed Billy, Billy Wong, hmm.[1]
One day the Wong’s came over, with sad faces, to tell us that they were moving to Outer Cyberia. Walter got a good job offer in charge of trying to put and egg back together that had fallen from a wall, so he took it.

Now let me tell you, you know how some things are a long way, well Outer Cyberia was a long way plus a bit, like another long way. See what I mean. Perhaps even further then a long way, maybe it might even been further then Coals(Thanks Dave) an, an, and you may not even eat cannibals, whats this world coming to, next there will something good on TV except Aunty and her little cousin

More to come so grit dem teeth and laugh so hard you hurt. Please avoid consuming liquids when reading this story. Your cat and keyboard may end up hating you.

Authors Notes

[1.] Think about it

[2.] I think a zac was sixpence and then became five cents, robbed again as usual. You can see that I am still bitter and twisted about 1966

[3] I have no idea about what this story is about but I’m having fun, hope you are.

[4] I dedicate this story to Helvi who gave me much support and encouragement to get Father O’Way into space and to the WDAPAW Crew who have all contributed ideas for the hapless Sandy

Merv on Retirement

05 Thursday Jul 2018

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Merv bowling from the Randwick end…

 

 

“What the hell are you doing Merv?” asks Foodge as he enters the bar and pointing at the beer tap. “Make it a canoe of Special there’s a good chap.”

“I’m staring out into space” replies Merv, adjusting his gaze to pour a beer. “Some bloke on the telly said staring into space is a good thing to do, especially in retirement.”

“What’s this retirement rubbish Merv, who will pour the beers if you retire?” barks

A cat waiting for a car

Foodge, cutting to the chase. Lets face it, pouring beers is the best skill someone else needs to have.

The noise awoke O’Hoo who had been catching a bit of a nap, leaning semi-fatally across the bar. “When I retire I’m gunna get pissed every day” says O’Hoo.

“Nothing has changed then” replies Merv. “What about you Foodge?”

“Well, I’m gunna drink, smoke, gamble and chase wild women”

Nothing has changed then thinks Merv. Boosh goes the dishwasher as Merv ponders other things.

Seems like all of us need some sort of advice about what we are gunna do when we retire. We need to talk to Gordon, he’ll know.

Merv calls Gordon on his mobile.

“Gordy, it’s Merv. Better get down here, dazes is all talkin re-tyre-meant. The friggin

Hot babe that has no relation to the story at all

union is coming. Ewe no, the FUCU(Fictitious United Characters Union, referred to as the Fark Ewe).”

Gordon appears at the end of the bar. None of the locals notice any more, it’s just the tourists. The tourists run around screaming their heads off like they have just seen an alien, umm, well I guess they just have.

I mean here we are and the creator of the universe beams in for a drink, classic. Does it get better than this.

“So Gordon, what are you going to do in retirement?” pushes Merv.

“Well, I’m gunna watch repeats of BBC crime shows. Either that or take up hurling.” replies Gordon.

Well, nothings changed then as Gordon is already watching repeats of BBC crime shows. Hurling! Are you serious?

“The one thing I do know” continues Gordon “is what’s the one thing we all have in common?” asks Gordon. The issue Gordon failed to grasp was that the audience had a collective IQ of the square root of nothing. Sometimes an artist sees a blank canvas other times sees rivers of gold. Well this was one of dem times when no one had any idea.

Blokes, Pigs Arms patrons, etc., etc., came the cries till Gordon said “We are all fictitious. Foodge, Merv, O’Hoo”.

“I’m real” shouts Merv “Well sort of…” then realising that he wasn’t real.

“Don’t worry about retirement, it’s dem, out there, they age, wheeze are always the same. Anyone had grey hair or arthritis written into their contracts lately? Didn’t think so!”. Gordon’s on a roll and he can’t help himself.

Yes, it’s me too…

“And do you notice that the author always portrays me as an old man with grey hair and a flat cap whose chewing his hands off. Hmm.”

“Well I want to be a ninja that stares out into space” says Merv.

Merv does some kung fu moves and shoop, swah, zonk.

“And notice how the author usually portrays me as Rumpole with cigarette ash on his tie, a beer belly but an incredible sense of the law”

Foodge, with beer belly and ash on his tie, just sayin’

interjects Foodge, feeling left out of this dreary episode, hmm, thinking, 10 minutes of your life that you will never get back.

Look, it’s starting to sound like a character revolution coming so whoever I am I better get going. Let them eat bytes I say.

Merv says

11 Sunday Mar 2018

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Helvi considers the appeal…

 

 

Merv here. This is terrible. The Shit Carters Arms have challenged us to a game of cricket, down at the park and wheeze have to provide our own umpires.

“Fucking cricket” says Gez “where ennui meets boredom”

“Eyes hates cricket, now chess, that’s a man’s game.” says Gib.

The change rooms

“Well mes and Hung love cricket but wheeze need at least eleven plus umpires so that’s around about thirteen folk needed give or take a decimal point” chips in Angler.

“Fucking 13 people. Wears wheeze gunna find 13 brain dead people with there eyes gouged out to play the most boring game ever invented” says Gez again. Gee, Gez gets two says in this story, he must be important.

“I’ll umpire” pipes in Sister Yvonne “just what are the fucking rules?”
Crikey, a lot of fucking going on, what is happening.

“Me fucking too, so there you go wheeze have the umpires and there is no rules, not in a social game, lets sledge the bastards.” says Nurse Barbara.

 

Let me at the batter, gnarl…

“I’m the fast bowler, can gnash teeth, swear and insult the batsman’s missus” says Honshades “Oh and I’ll chuck in a fucking”.
How come my spell checker recognises fucking? Hmm, something odd is happening here.

Just when crisis point is about to be reached Gordon appears in the bar. Lets face it, if Gordon hadn’t taught the universe how to play cricket none of this would be happening. Isn’t blame appropriation a wonderful thing.
Gordon fills the room with his aura or as we know from the old days, garlic.
“And so be to Gordon, go the farce has ended, oops, wrong story. Now the Shitties have a really good team so we sledge them big time, for example, we remind them that their washing is on the line and that they must check the letterbox whens they get home” dictates Gordon.

“Oh fuck off,wheeze gunna kill them” says Gib getting in a second says an upping his strike rate and hence his remuneration package.

“Yeah, fuck off” says Angler feeling the financial pinch of raising 16 children plus

Angler and children

realising that the Shit Carters have a vicious fast bowler that says naughty things.

“Hash tag, me too” says Hung not really knowing what to say but deciding to be like everyone else “and fur, fur fur, fuck off.” Gees, fancy telling the creator of the universe to fuck off, well I never.

Oh well, thinks Merv, we may as well declare and tell the Shit Carters Arms to fuck off.
“What about fucking Helvi, she’s from fucking Norvay, theys wouldn’t declare, theys would fight” says someone not yet named but gets a says.

“Oh yeah. Forgot that, in the park Sunday I guess” says Gordon racking up yet another says.

“Hung you can’t say fuck off, this is a family friendly blog” says Emmjay.

“No, it’s alright boss, I’m Merv in this story.”

“Well that’s okay then” says Emmjay racking up another says.

You know, I have come to this point in time where I hate says gatherers, don’t ewe.

Helvi goes vild…

Merv wants a day orf

31 Sunday Dec 2017

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Merv has a fink about it

 

Story by Mark.

Merv wakes to the usual smell of bacon, gently frying in the pan, some freshly brewed coffee and hot toast but today is different. Merv has decided not to get out of bed, he wants a day orf. After finding out he has family, Mack, Mick, Mark, Mike and Minx, a sister, he has decided he needs some time out.  All identical twins, as the author can’t spell sextuplets, plus there will be nothing for perverts in this story, I mean surely there must be a better word for six then sex. Merv has to use all his fingers and toes to get the counting right but yes, six of them. Uno, duo, duo plus one, duo plus duo minus uno and so it goes on, all the way to sex, oops, I mean six, you perverts.

Granny knocks at the door as it is getting late, thinking that Merv is masticating about somefink. “Wake up wanker, I have your breakfast ready and it’s almost time to open the bar”

Stick it up your arse, I need a day orf

Granny pushes the door open hoping to find Merv doing somefink he wished he didn’t only to find Merv snugly covered by his doona or nona or blanket, so many words so little time.

“Granny, I’m having a day orf. I is overwhelmed by all this family all of a sudden and eyes need a day orf. Get Hung to run the bar and the Jones boy to take the money.”

Granny places Merv’s breakfast on his bedside table, bacon, scrambled eggs, dry white toast, tomato juice and black coffee. One of the meals she lovingly makes for him everyday. For Merv to want a day orf this must be serious, granny decides she needs some wise council(yes I know).

Well the girls aren’t in yet so there goes that option, Foodge and O’Hoo, don’t think so and when the door opens and it’s Gib and Angler fresh from a cat shoot and wanting some

Did you say cat?

refreshments and revelry before facing any reality, yes thinks Granny, these are my people, well till they fuck up.

“Granny, drinks and wedges all round” cry the lads, none of this shut up and take my money bullshit.

“Boys, can you talk to Merv. He wants a day orf after meeting all his family. He didn’t even have a wank this morning” replies Granny as she pours some glass canoes.

The boys quickly down their beers, then another one and maybe one more, perhaps even another then quickly ascend the stairs to Merv’s room.

“Merv, what’s wrong old cock?” asks Angler, feeling a bit wobbly plus knowing Merv didn’t even have a wank this morning. Something is seriously wrong. I mean the

Stick your hand up your own arse

last time you would have went without one was the day you got your electric bill. See how serious this is!

“Yeah Merv, get out of fucking bed and down to the bar” discreetly requests Gib, gentle and kind as always.

“I’m having a day orf, so go away.” replies Merv.

“So look Merv, I’m a nurse and Angler is not a nurse so trust us, what’s the real problem?” pleads Gib.

“Well, you promise not to laugh” well like a red rag to a bull the boys laugh but swear allegiance to Gordon, the creator of the universe, that they will be on their best behaviour.

“Well” says Merv “Now I have all these identical twin brothers and twin sister, how am I expected to know their birthdays!!”

 

Me and family

 

Merv finds more family

24 Sunday Dec 2017

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Merv and family

Story by the guy at the keyboard.

Merv was standing behind the bar, washing the glasses and refreshing the spittoons when the door opened and a man walked in an ordered a beer. Merv didn’t take any notice at first but when he looked up at the man he saw a reflection of himself.

“Um, er, Mick?” asked Merv thinking it was his identical twin brother Mick from Mick’s Auto Mechanics and Florist Shop.

“No, I’m Mack, your other identical twin brother” said the man, um, er, I mean Mack.

“But doesn’t that make us identical triplets?” enquired Merv intelligently for a change.

“But wait there’s more. There are five of us, me, you, Mick, Mike and Mark. All identical twins” said Mack.

“But that makes us…”

“No, identical twins. The author can’t spell that word so we won’t mention it, okay?”

“Um, er, suppose, okay I guess. What’s brought you here Mack?”

“I went to see my doctor, Doctor Doctor and I said to her, doctor doctor give me the news I gotta bad case of lovin you but she told me that I have Stupiditis and that it runs in the family”

My Christmas outfit

“Stupiditis!!” double exclamation marks remarks Merv.

“But wait there’s more. It also affects our identical twins” counters Mack.

“You mean our qu…”

“Don’t mention that word, the author can’t spell it plus he wants an extra set of steak knifes hence the double mention of but wait there’s more”

“Stupiditis” say Merv “I don’t get it”

“Exactly” replies Mack. “It’s a disease that is so subtle that you don’t get it till it’s too late. Like what did you do this morning?”

“Dunno, got up, had a shower, got dressed, ogled granny, scratched my nuts, washed glasses and replaced the spittoons” says Merv feeling quite bewildered.

“Yes, that’s because that is what you do every day. When was Gordon here last?” presses Mack.

“Dunno”

“Stupiditis” says Mack. “Lets test it out with a few of the patrons. Hey Foodge, what did you do yesterday?”

“Smoked lots of cigarettes, drank heaps of booze, represented a fine defaulter in court, told the Prime Minister to stick his head up his arse, usual sort of thing why do you ask?” replies Foodge.

“No reason” says Mack. “See Merv, what do really remember about yesterday?”

“Dunno, I fink I got outta bed, came down here to the bar and later went back to bed”

“Stupiditis, big time” says the twins.

Merv and family