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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

Tag Archives: Brazil

The Schoolies ‘Wipe out.’

22 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by gerard oosterman in Gerard Oosterman

≈ 30 Comments

Tags

Alcohol, Aldi, Brazil, Carnival, Parramatta, Sydney

The mystery of Schoolies and the “wipe-out”.

I thought I knew that our liquor selling licensing laws and businesses were seen by many in the world as pretty antiquated. I suppose it might well explain much of why so many young go well over the limit once unshackled from the final years at school and seek to wipe themselves out during the cultural phenomenon known as ‘The Schoolies.’ The ‘Schoolies’ is a three week festival whereby the year twelve students celebrate their final year at school. Perhaps, the prohibition is still lingering on here in Aussi-land and it all breaks loose during Schoolies..

I don’t quite know the origins of it or what the background of this festival is but I don’t think it has anything to do with Brazilian Carnival or running of the Spanish bulls or similar foreign carnivals. I can’t remember ever having experienced those year twelve festivals. I never went through year twelve. Perhaps that explains it.

There are curious contradictions in our alcohol beverage consumption. We are not exactly shy when it comes to getting full or even totally blotto pissed. Ok, it might not be proper here in The Southern Highlands to be seen pickled but even here not too many would point a finger at you if one occasionally did a Bazza McKenzie stained glass picture show in the taxi forgetting to wind down the window. Yet, to actually get the stuff, you have to go to specially licensed outlets.

The most curious outlets are our supermarkets. Things have finally been allowed to sell grog at supermarkets but the actual selling point still needs you to go to a separate outlet. I mean you still can’t buy butter or a long neck at the same time and at the same counter. However, here in Bowral the separation of grog and groceries have taken a small step forward in our Aldi store. You can buy butter and booze at the same counter. Amazing progress! It is ONLY allowed at counter nr 5. You can’t do it at the other counters and there are signs on the trolley (lockable and deposit paying progressive innovation, Euro inspired), warning you, that only at counter 5 you can buy butter, wine,  beer and prawns.

God knows how the Aldi lawyers must have been tortured through dealing with the ‘licensing police or board’. How ‘counter 5’ was given a license must rank as one of the most significant battles won with our licensing laws.  To buy the stuff, one has to still be 18 and only in approved points of sale. Cash register 5 is now a licensed venue for the sale of alcohol. Hoorah!

I remember as if yesterday buying a bottle of sherry for my mum and dad at Christmas time when still in Holland at age 12 or 13. I bought is at the grocery store but could also have bought it at the fruit and veggie shop. Even today, you can buy a Heineken or a latte in the train or at the rail station or at the newsagent.

I can’t imagine what the consequences would be if you could buy a can of beer on a train between Sydney’s Central station and Parramatta. I guess all hell would break loose and you can’t open train windows anymore either. Nor are trains provided with toilets. We must have camel-like bladders.

When I queued at the nr 5 Aldi counter with my peanut-butter and a fine pinot I remarked about the oddness of only being able to buy liquor at counter nr 5. A stern looking lady behind me stated; “that’s because only people above the age of 18 are allowed to serve at this counter.”  Somewhat flummoxed, I looked at all the Aldi staff and remarked that most of them would be over 18 and asked, not unreasonably I thought, what would happen if my grandson of 10 was helping me packing the pinot back into the trolley. I further asked what would happen if wine was also sold at cash register 1,2,3 or even 4? The stern lady rebuked me and said firmly;” well, that’s the law” and shut down the conversation by giving me a long and hard stare. She obviously thought I was a heathen and an alcoholic. I thought that logic wasn’t very forthcoming from her yet and decided to just buy my stuff and shut up, give it some more thought in the privacy of my car.

It is strange though. Binge drinking here, especially amongst teenager is a serious problem and many a future alcoholic must be in the making during those much accepted Schoolies. Yet, the availability of alcohol is so much more restricted.

So, why is it that in countries such as Italy or France where alcohol can be bought by anyone at almost all shops, day and night; yet, binge drinking is far less prominent? Alcohol is often consumed around the dining table with food and conversation. Getting inebriated in countries with unrestricted access is rarer and certainly much more stigmatized than in Australia were selling of alcohol is much more restricted at licensed premises and only to those above the age of 18.

Why is that so?

Brkon’s Recovery from Vice with a Proposal for an opportunity in Bratislava

29 Tuesday May 2012

Posted by gerard oosterman in Gerard Oosterman

≈ 27 Comments

Tags

Bratislava, Brazil, Brkon, Danube, Eurovea, Rhine.Europe United Emirates, Slivoviz, Slovakia, Svetlana

As most of you  still remember Brkon, I thought it might be time to let you know how I fared. Suffice to say that things are looking up!  The plight of Bratislava’s male youth is a common story of many having survived years surrounded by so many mouth-wateringly beautiful Slovakian women. Many fall for their beauty and as the years go by love takes its toll and many are left to their deeply ingrained vices, end up wandering the streets, impoverished and looking unshaven. You might see them hanging around the Bratislavan market places, scrounging for alms with a nostalgic wish to return those earlier times steeped in love and seductions. They so desperately remain in search of ‘happy’, but as the years relentlessly marches they pay a heavy price. They are now the outcasts, the societal flotsam washed up like the so may sullied and used condoms along the banks of the Danube River, carelessly thrown overboard by the Rhine- Danube River crowds drunk with cruising for love. The lot for so many tortured souls.

This is what happened to this Brkon. They say the first step to recovery is to admit  one’s compulsive habits. If you still remember my adventures with the lovely Svetlana so many years ago including my first youthfully bursting experiences on the silken smooth valley of the svelte lilies, you might also recall how my dear old Nana had a nice little earner going with her sly-grog slivovitz operation inside the cow-shed. The combination of so much of my Nana’s duty-free slivovitz and so many warm thighs made me a debauched and lost soul sadly wandering the Danube’s river bank. In vain I searched for the anchor that would hold me steady. I knew there had to be something more to life than sex and booze. It does. Listen carefully.

Late one night, I was again listlessly wandering along the Danube River’s bank. The distant sparkling lights of Bratislava once again beckoning me. I knew that surrender to yet another night of loneliness and despair had become such hopeless course. It was an endless routine, falling again for a whore’s bloated blue veined listless limbs aided by Nana’s slivovitz. I had reached rock bottom.

I kicked a bottle shimmering in the light of the Danube’s ghoulish moon. I noticed something inside it. I pulled the cork off and shook the contents into my hand. It was indeed a message that for extra protection was wrapped inside a condom. The silver foil had “drsny jazdec kondom” printed on it. I knew enough English that it was a popular condom sometimes colloquially known as ‘rough riders’. The message had just two words, “Pigs Arms”. How odd. Little did I know it would set into action a most fortuitous chain of events that would lead me once again back on the virtuous path of wholesome decency and survival.

After arrival in my sparsely furnished room I opened my laptop and Googled those two mysterious words “Pig’s Arms”. It gave me the web- address and I immediately send of an S.O.S using the pseudonym of ‘Gerard’. You by now know my real identity of Brkon but let me make amends for keeping up the pretense of being ‘Gerard’ with a Dutch ancestry. I am Slovakian and really Brkon. I am capable of so many things but with slivovitz and the Siren Call of heavenly thighs have wasted so much of my potential.

Since re-connecting with The Pig’s arms I have come not only good but also into a lucrative financial opportunity as well. Let me share this with all of you. Through the turn- around of my life I have landed a job as a croupier at the Eurovea Mall on the banks of the Danube. Isn’t it an amazing coincidence that the River Danube with its vile booty of sad condoms and a bottle cast by a certain P/Arms client has been the catalyst of so much glad tidings?

As I now deal with bets as well as many wealthy clients, an opportunity has come my way of making some money for Slovakia but also for the Pig’s Arms. It involves a wealthy client who wishes to use the pig’s Arms to advertise an online gambling venue in Bratislava. I would not be so presumptuous as to speak for all the Pigs Arms Clientele, but … with The House of Pain and the back room somewhat quiet of late (even with the doubling of extra pain without charge) and Grannies wedges been replaced with the Sushi-bar next door, it does present a way of getting some money back in continuing the ever growing P/Arms.

Hardly a day goes by when it doesn’t receive over three hundred ticks. Most of them from Europe including but not only, Eastern Europe and the UK,  even from Finland, Iceland and Greece. Then many from Brazil, Indonesia, Japan, Australia and the United Emirates. By the sheer persistence of the writers and respondents, the P/Arms Blog has come to the attention of advertisers. The money offered is not large but it is real and who knows what the future brings… So, what does the Pigs Arms feel about all this? I know we are a bit left of the right but ,if some mulla comes our way; it will be to reimburse what has been spent. Or at best for bread and lentils. We will never become Gina or a Packer.

Let us know and brainstorm how you feel about it. It’s for the Pig’s Arms.

Regards: Brkon at Eurovea.

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