Tag Archives: Father O’Way

12.2 The Pigs Arms World Cup Team

14 Monday Mar 2011

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The Pigs Arms First XI by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Here’s the list of the World Cup Pigs Arms Eleven or so……by Hung One On

At the  rear: Hung One On with unravelling brain, Lehan Winifred Ramsay listening for clues, Atomou gaze firmly fixed to the job at hand, Hadron keeping an eye on each way.

Middle row: Merv, Commander Al Foyle in full uniform, Astyages caped and ready for the next journey, Vectis Lad the old fox, Lord Algernon the ICCB representative, Sandshoe as the capped bear, Bishop Bishop wearing his favourite number 3 T-shirt instead of his lucky Pigs Arms T-shirt [hint hint], Helvi with gun in hand.

Front row: GO the artist droid(just), Warrigal the chief sensor who unfortunately couldn’t bring his head as in was in for maintenance, Michael Jones the publican of the Bats Droppings with a spare skull, Big M with battle axe at hand, Throwdough Haggins , Vivienne with Catherine the central controlling computer in her lap, Voice and Neville the navcom illustrating a star, just in case you didn’t know.

Little did they realise but they had to play a game of cricket against the droids at the local village green.

The Pigs Arms won the toss and batted. Here is the scorecard 50 overs per side.

The Pigs Arms XI

Atomou,  bowled Cassandra for 69

GO the artist droid,  Caught Van Gough bowled Lawrence Hargraves for 78

Hung On One retired hurt for 0

Michael Jones,  Caught Sleeping bowled Over for 10

Vivienne, not out 110 and still raging

Helvi, bowled By  Boredom 1

Neville, caught by Bourbon bowled With Coke 30

Big M, not out 55 however several members of the opposing team are nursing wounds

Lehan caught Holding On Bowled by Tsunamis for 50

Astyages bowled by Harpagus for 15

Vectis Lad, run out by a short half nose photo finish for 25

443 off 50 overs. Droid team declared 0/0 as the bar was opened conveniently by Michael Jones.

12.1 We Drop in to the Mire

01 Tuesday Mar 2011

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Pictures by Warrigal

We drop in to the Mire, that’s the planet the Haggins’ live on, on the way to meet Alexrod, convenient hey. Mire revolves around a star called god knows what. God Knows What is around about the size of the sun. Don’t just some things run in your favour when you are out in space, fantastic.

Throwdough Haggins

So Gordon has told me that the Habits, that’s the Haggins tribal name, believe in magic, you know, goblins and sorcerers and all that airy fairy nonsense that we all know ain’t true however some folk, some planets do.  The Habits live in Inhobitable. They are always having parties, loud music and of course plenty of ale. Sound like my kinda guys however Habits are smaller then us so things are a bit cramped for us apes on Mire. Gordon suggested I try a 3 wishes deal with the Habits to test the water. You know,  one the two then the punch line. So okay lets try.

“So Throwdough, you like the party time hey, must go through a lotta beer?” I ask with great interest, well sort of.

“Lots of beer Sandy” he replies.

See the beer on Mire is called Oink Lager and the name says it all. Tastes like bats piss but hang on what does bats piss actually taste like? Yuck! And what sort of person would drink bats piss? I think I might change the subject, I’m feeling ill and I’m the one writing this.

Sandy O’Paramatta

“Look, on my planet we have this great technology. You just chuck this in here, fill with water and it makes beer, 25c per 375 ml bottle, waddya say?” I pitch like a car salesman on Parramatta Road.

“Just this stuff and water, Sandy is that right?” replies Throwdough.  “Well, hmm, well, no, hmm, hmm no, no oh no, hmm, oh no,  I’ll have two more of them.”

So with that Throwdough and Dildough handed over their cards. We left minus six home brew kits, oh and enough supplies to last them a century. I’m sure though the Habits will do as much as they can with addictive substances.

Viv having a break, literally

Back onboard the Julian we now start to head for Automaticus Tellericus, reset the password on the One Card and grab the bail. Easy for sure, well not really.  Meeting my brother is going to be very interesting.

“I’ve ordered the Vivienne 59 for tea Sandy” chirps Belinda who walks in with Helvi.

“Hi Helvi, kill anyone today?” I quip hoping it’s taken in jest.

“No but if you want me to” grins Helvi.

“Anyhoo, what’s a Vivienne 59?” I request

“Some blokes name Ross Jogan, you know, curry it’s your favourite” says Belinda.

“Ready to fight Sandy or still shaking at the knees?” declares  Helvi

Daves jigger

Dave the Guitar Droid goes “Hey, It’s. Shakin All Over”

“When you move in a-right up close to me
That’s when I get the shakes all over me
Quivers down my back bone
I got the shakes in my thigh bone
I got the Quivers in my knee bone
Shakin’ a-all over”

“Well perhaps not Dave” I say rather limply “ but a good rendo.”

“Girls, battle plans okay, lets go.” I float and with that the battle council gathered. They are well armed and well trained. Us’, well, we are just a pack of losers. However we have the Julian, the best spaceship in the galaxy but not necessary in the universe. Lets try and overlook that.  This is complex fiction and I don’t want to lose you.

Helvi and Al Foyle with Catherine and Neville take charge. Ships are launched and deflector shields are activated. We are on silent mode. The ship runs on minimum power. Warrigal, the chief sensor,  is flashing his torch at his tranny trying to get some sort of

Silence is Deadly

positive response, under the quilt, late at night, yeah. Noise of any kind a this time is not welcome. I can’t help myself and I take my part in all this very seriously, as you all know, none more dedicated than me, oh yes. So I says, you know, I says, you know,  to the command group “Hey listen, I need to fart, but, look, you know silent is deadly” I announce to the delight of the crowd.

The Command group is thrown in to Chaos, “Oh, no, Sandy wants to ffffaaarrrtttttt’……”

Central Computer calling…..

Warning!

Warning  again!!

Look I’ve told you, there is a warning of some description. !!!

Look, don’t keep pressing the escape key, it won’t help. !!!!

I’ve issued a bloody warning what else do you want?

I think I’ll shut down.

12.0 A Briefing from GOD

14 Monday Feb 2011

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I have a meeting with Gordon about the mission. “So Gordon, more baked beans? And what about the ICCB (Intergalactic Cricket Control Board)?” I’m asking this from my previous encounter with the last experiment that I had unwittingly become part of.

“No beans this time Sandy and don’t worry about the ICCB since you knocked out both of their Death Balls you could say that they’re neutered.”

“So Gordon are you saying that the ICCB hasn’t got any balls?”

“Yes Sandy, the ICCB is ball – less however the Stumponians are well armed. Nothing the Helvi-tastic can’t handle and oh, yes, your farcical powers” says Gordon with that mischievous grin and a chuckle that freezes your blood.

“Reset the expiry date on the card and that’s it. Oh, and get the Holy Bail. Oh and get the cards back from those Haggin’s, oh and say gidday to Axelrod the Marauder. Hmm, I think that’s it. The navcom has been programmed, take the wavetable after Pluto” rambles Gordon.

“Who is Axelrod the Marauder?” I ask stupidly knowing it will be something horrible. I mean the name is a dead give away. Should I call myself Sandy the Nice Bloke, hmm, don’t think so.

“He’s the keeper of the Bails. You will have to fight him I suppose” Gordon answers rather nonchalantly. Gee great, thanks Gordon. This is a joke, a farce. Just as that thought pops into my head the glass of water on the table in front me smashes to smithereens, oh no, the farce.

“Yes Sandy you must use the farce, may the farce be with you”

“And with you”

“Go the farce has ended”

“Thanks be to Gordon”

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

I teleport aboard using my SPIT(Small Personal Interplanetary Teleporter) and meet up with the crew who are all in the local, The Bats Droppings, for a reunion drink. The navcom who we call Neville has come as his dog form but all the regulars are here. Michael the publican pours me a pint of Trotters. Al Foyle, the Garrison Commander is in deep discussion with Helvi, about killing Stumponians probably.

Dave the guitar droid is playing some Muddy Waters and George is betting on the dish lickers. Belinda grasps my arm “Strange being back in space Sandy, isn’t this exciting” Well, yes, no, maybe.

“Yes, exciting” I hear myself say. “Where’s this planet, Automaticus Terllericus?”

“Orbits a star called Aldebaran, only 65 light years away, shouldn’t take long” replies Belinda with the excitement rising in her voice. “And don’t worry, me and Helvi will deal with axle grease or what ever his name is. We are a bit of a team us two.” What’s this now, warrior droid plus warrior woman? Scary stuff.

Now let me tell you, space is big, I mean, it’s bigger than big, it’s huge. Isn’t it amazing, big and huge are such small words to describe such a big thing as space. Anyhoo the ships engine doesn’t have a known top speed. It just keeps accelerating till the navcom tells it to stop and so by the time I have finished writing this sentence I will be thousands of kilometres away from where I was when I started.

So the Stumponians, who are they? Belinda and I head to the Cruel Room to get briefed on who we are up against. Oh, the Cruel Room is a four dimensional multimedia centre where the walls and floor all go one colour, invisible. It makes you think you are sitting on the outside of the ship, the S.S Julian II, or the Jules for short.

Stumponians love balls we are told. Throughout their year they have Red Balls that last for five days and White Balls that just go for a day. And there’s a rumour going round that they are going to have a new ball that just lasts three hours or so, I mean can you believe that? I can’t and I’m the author. Imagine anything that goes for five days, boring.

There’s singing, dancing, classical music, fine food and wine and art displays. Apart from that they are highly militarised and love fighting. Strange hey. They protect The Stumps that holds the Holy Bail which belongs to Gordon.

“Look Belinda, there’s just one thing I’d like to know” I ask rather meekly.

“What’s that Sandy?”

“Well, you know in the earlier part of this story I found out that you weren’t my sister, thank Gordon, but the evil Lord Deaf Vision was my father. So am I going to find out that I’m related to a Stumponian or what, I mean my nerves are killing me?”

“Yes Sandy” Belinda informs “Alexrod is your brother who in a previous life went by the name, David”

“Oh zark, me fight David, never! He’ll kill me”

11.7 Sandy Goes Back to Space

09 Thursday Dec 2010

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Church of the Holy Bail – by Warrigal Mirriyuula

I have been invited to the bar at the Pigs Arms to have a meeting with the Bish, oh and a few beers. As we walk in there’s Foodge  with O’Hoo and Merv. Scheming up some deal I’m sure. You know lets make a million, yeah right. Bar fly’s, know what I mean.

The place is lively tonight and doing good trade given that the Trotters is off. The Bish has got our beers and ushers me into a private corner of the bar. “Sandy” utters the Bish in an unusually soft tone for him, he’s worrying about something, I can tell. “Sandy, that credit card that Gordon gave you, you know, the card that works anywhere and every time. Well

The card is carried by a Oneker

can I see it?” Crikey, this is out of left field. I’m starting to feel anxious. Sweat is forming on my brow, I don’t think I want the Bish to see or touch my card, how strange.

I reach for my wallet rather reluctantly. My pulse is racing and the anxiety is washing over me like waves at the beach rendering me virtually neutralised. With lots of difficulty  I retrieve the card and hold it up for the Bish to see. The Bish’s eyes light up light the harbour bridge on new years eve. “Yes” he says “my precious, oops, I mean yes that’s the one Sandy. That’s the One Card. It’s connected to Gordon’s account at the One Bank and is run by Onekers. You see, Gordon owns all of the money in this sector of the universe.” Who cares I’m zarking sweating like a pig here and I don’t even know why. “You see Sandy, the card has special powers. Its able to morph into the local planetary technology so it can utilise the account. It also can be used by the holder to become invisible.” These dope smokers, all this crazy talk about magic, oh and yes my farcical powers, sheez.

The Bish continues his rave “The One Card is connected to three other cards one held by Belinda, and the other two are with Throwdough and Dildough Haggins, they live in the local mire called Inhobitable, they are always pissed and throwing parties.” Hey, sound like my kinda guys. Anyhoo, what’s this got to do with me. “You must enter the card into the

A female Automaticus Tellertorian

Slot of Doom. It’s on the planet Automaticus Tellerius and is found in the heart of Mt TheKerb. The danger is it is guarded by a sect of the ICCB (Intergalactic Cricket Control Board) called The Stumps and they worship the Holy Bail.” Zark, I’m simple but what a crock of sheet. The Bish needs to quit smokin.

The Bish is in full swing now “You must use the farce Luke, er, um, Sandy return the Holy Bail to Gordon, get back the other cards and enter your card in the Slot of Doom. That resets the expiry date.” So back out into space, fighting, gun battles and navigational tactics, silent running the space ship to avoid being killed, sounds boring. “Can you do it?” asks the Bish.

Look I can’t help myself sometimes so I say “When do I start?” when I really mean “Bish I’m sheeting myself at the thought”

“Good man Sandy, Gordon will be pleased. Go the meeting has ended” announces the Bish

“Thanks be to Gordon” I reply

“And with you” says the Bish.

11.6 Sandy Burns the Midnight Oil.

04 Saturday Dec 2010

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Digital Interruption by Warrigal Mirriyuula

The phone rings “Sandy it’s the Bish, I’ve been going through my records” Hmm, this is dangerous. The Bish records everything and is always ready to use it to his advantage. “I want you to talk to Peetar Garret” Hmm, wonder what this poor bloke has done to the Bish. “You know the singer from Midday Toil. I want you to have a short jocular conversation with him, short and jocular.”  Not ringing any bells here, yawn.

“Okay Bish” I reply, anything to get him to zarking shut up. “So this bloke Peetar, what do you want to ask him him?” I ask, sighing deeply at my extreme disinterest as I really couldn’t care.

“Find out about what’s going on in Correa, you know MASH and all that.” roars the Bish. No I don’t really. MASH, Suicide is Painless, poetry ever if there was some. Series ran longer than the war.

Anyhoo enough of that lets go. I grab a cab to the airport and jump a plane to Canberra. I bribe my way into the press room with some green stinky stuff the Bish gave me. Sheet, how can people smoke that stuff amazes me but all the guards love it.

I see Peetar having a coffee at the buffet, alone, this is my chance,

FOW: So Peetar, Australia has lots of military allies around the world. In your view who do we have the strongest link with?

PG: U.S Forces give the nod

FOW: So is this a good thing for Australia?
PG: It’s a setback for your country

FOW: So on to the problems with Correa what do you see happening there?
PG: Bombs and trenches all in a row, Bombs and threats still ask for more

FOW: Will the Correan conflict effect the globe Peetar?
PG: Divided world, the CIA, say who control the issue

FOW: Do you think negotiations with the parties will help?

PG: You leave us with no time to talk

FOW: Peetar, do you have an official account of what’s happening on the ground?
PG: You can write your own assessment

FOW: Can you expand on that please Peetar?

PG: Sing me songs of no denying, seems to me too many tired, waiting for the next big thing

FOW: So for the man in the street, what should they look for?
PG: Will you know it when you see it

FOW: And the effect on our youth?
PG: High risk children, dogs of war

FOW: Do you think that the Correan conflict will affect investment brokers such as those in Wall St?
PG: Now market movements call the shots, business deals in parking lots, waiting for the meat of tomorrow.

FOW: Does this mean a refrain for the Australian economy Peetar?

PG: Sing me songs of no denying, seems to me too many tired, waiting for the next big thing.

FOW: So look, times running out but briefly would you like to sum up the current situation?

PG: Everyone too stoned to start a mission, people too scared to go to prison
We’re unable to make decisions, Politicians party line, don’t cross that floor,
L. Ron Hubbard can’t save your life, Superboy takes a plutonium wife
In the shadow of Ban The Bomb we live…..

FOW: Yes, well that’s all we have time for . Is there any message you would like to make certain the audience is in chorus with your thoughts?

PG: Sing me songs of no denying , seems to me too many tired, waiting for the next big thing

11.5 Sandy Goes to Malice Brings

29 Monday Nov 2010

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Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hey, Sandy here. You know the Bish, Bishop bloody Bishop? Anyhoo, the Bish wants me to go to Malice Brings to investigate a major breaking story. A story about a  man that suffered minor injuries. If you scan the web for societies that protect people with minor injuries, you’ll find none.  This in-depth study shows a haunting sub class of people out there with minor injuries. Frankly, it’s scary.

Here’s my interview from my favourite Aunty, Aunt Verity Well.

FOW: So Aunt Well what’s happening?

Aunt Well:  Malice Brings police say an unyouthful  non woman has been hit by a car after trying to stop two unelderies  driving away with his vehicle.

FOW: Come on, lets get real? Just because someone wants to borrow your car, no reason to get upset. Just joking but cars are inanimate ain’t they? I know people aren’t. What injuries did this car attacking gerontic mammalian throwback receive?

Aunt Well: Police say the 78-year, yes they say 78 year a lot down the station, old non woman received injuries from the fall, well just a little bit, could even develop into minor.

FOW: Police say lots of things. 78 year old should have know better anyway if it gets to minor, press ‘ill be all over it, I mean now news is 24 seven, minor makes the news. As I said scary. Look where’s this non persons car whatever?

Aunt Well: The assumed thieves drove away but forsaken the car nearby.

FOW: It is an allegation not a fact however it was possibly neighbours or perhaps Home and Away. Anyhoo they are hardly going to drive it back and leave the keys on the front porch. Has anyone been arrested?

Aunt Well: Police have arrested two non males of the species who are expected to be charged later today.

FOW: Well lets see, expected to be charged rather than have been charged. They may also be charged especially once they get back home or if already charged then this would get them into further trouble as police hate people who are charged.

Sandy O’Way, Malice Brings.

11.4 Life is a Volcano

22 Monday Nov 2010

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The name’s O’Way, Sandy O’Way

Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hi, Sandy here. Yes you guessed it, I’m on a mission from Gordon, you known, Gordon O’Donnell, the creator of the universe. See Gordon and the Bish have sent me to Sumatra to investigate some island that decided to explode. I mean as if I know anything about exploding gas, well, Belinda might tell you different.

Luckily this time the Helvi-tastic has come with me as my body guard. Do I feel heartened? You would have to be zarking mad, listen to this,

“So Helvi, how’s life aboard the S.S. Julian II?” I ask given my disquietude for the crew had become worrisome.

“We are ready to fight, to kill and to die as martyrs” replies Helvi with her typical broad grin and than determined look that could kill at five metres. Scary stuff man.

“But Helvi who are we fighting?” I enquire with such rabid enthusiasm that watching cricket suddenly looks alluring. I go on “But Helvi, I think a volcano has erupted, who’s left to fight?” I plea.

“Sssssssssssssssaaannndddyyyyy, a warrior is always ready” replies Helvi in that voice that can scare the living shit out of anything. “I have both long range and hand held laser cannons, swords, star knifes, grenades and defence shields.” Does this woman come prepared or what?

So we land and are taken to the hardest hit region. There seems to be a lot of people running around, screaming and yelling “Watch out, Java is coming!” I mean what a time to have to update my computer, I hate it when this happens.

There is an army of folk and Red Cross volunteers trying to help people from zark knows where. I say to some bloke “Hey dude, where’s a good place to eat around here?” “Eat mate, what zarking planet have you been on?” he yells. “Well mate, I’ve been on lots of planets. This is Earth isn’t it? So where’s the zarking cricket mate?” I reply using my unctuous parish priest voice. “Cricket mate” the heavily armed bloke replies “We had to declare at 4 for 328 due to the zarking volcano, I’m personally shattered.” He’s opened up now. This is the real picture of living next to a live volcano. He continues “See I was on a fivefer[1], we had ‘em nailed, out guys would have got the runs easy.”

So guys there you have it. 328 runs on the board is a concern. The score defies the underlying principal of the universe being the average number of beans in a can of baked beans divided by  the final score of a cricket innings. Some things in space just never cease to amaze me.

[1] Fiverfer – an amalgamation of the word five and for, indicating that a bowler has taken five wickets in an innings.]

11.3 Are you for real?

17 Wednesday Nov 2010

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The Bremer Valley

Writing. Is writing a skill or is it just a means of expressing ones thoughts? For example, is writing really a way of expressing one’s inner self?  Do you self talk? I do. I find it helps to have a good self talk. Yes, I ask myself all these painstaking questions. See I’m an inquisitive bastard when it comes to myself. So I say “Hey Sandy, what are you doin?” “Nothin much” I reply to myself. “Who ya gunna vote for?” “Dunno” “What ya havin for tea?” “Food, I suppose” I’ll reply with total disdain.

So yeah, I have deep and meaningful conversations with myself constantly. In fact it helps me pass the time. Time you ask? Time only occurs when there is motion. So I have this theory, lets just stop moving and we can all live forever. Right? Well maybe not and it goes without saying that this theory has some serious flaws. But who gives a zark, not this broken down parish priest. Anyhoo, that’s another story.

So writing is a group of letters that one strings together to form a sentence. But a sentence can also be a punishment, a verdict, a conviction and condemnation. So if I write a sentence am I condemning myself by verdict to convicted punishment? Gees arse, all these rules with words, this is worse than maths.

A day at the office with Hung One On

I’d like to tell you a story. A story of a country drive. For us city dwellers, the lovely Belinda and I, we need country drives, believe me, I mean I’m a priest after all.  So here goes…..

The valley stretched out before us, gradually disappearing into the distance that concluded with the looming mountain range. The sun was kind to us today as usually here in the deep south the summers are hot and dry. Today is cloudy and  rain is falling, gracing the ground with delicious nutrition for the soil.

The road, gravel of course, winds through the hills and vales crossing brooks trickling with water. Livestock dot the paddocks interrupted occasionally by crows and magpies searching for a feed of insects.

We pass numerous homesteads enwreathed by trees that provide both a windbreak and shade. Most have abundant outhouses and some farm machinery some of which are beyond their use by date.

We ascend to the top of the small mountain as the wind starts to lift. We stop and admire the 360 degree vista. We watch the rain clouds drift across the valley creating a patchwork quilt of colours and textures that stimulate the senses and purgers the soul. The wind and rain make us cold to the bone.

A vacant rotunda sits in the park. We dine under its protective roof on antipasti, dolmades, olives cheese and crusty bread. All washed down with a glass of wine. It doesn’t get any better than this. This should be everyday, should I wish for it to be my groundhog day?

Driving back home our colloquies diminish and we let the music stop on the CD player. This allows us to cherish the sounds of the rain and allow our senses to absorb the beautiful smell of water and dust and the birds. All of us enjoying the effects of the rain.

Our thoughts become reflective as we re-live our day, out in the country. We’re returning to the concrete jungle. The noise, the traffic and the congestion. This doesn’t mean it’s bad or wrong it’s just the countryside makes me feel so free and so open while the city closes me in.

The drive continues as we wind down through the hills and back to town. Other motorists are unaware of our relaxing trip and our connection with nature. The other motorists kept their aggressive driving styles while we idled through the streets in relax mode.

We return home to find nothing had changed except ourselves. Forever now, a memory of the Bremer Valley, the vista, the winding roads and the diverse  bird-life.

Life’s like that I guess!

11.2 Sandy V’s Joke Hocknee

03 Wednesday Nov 2010

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Warrigal does Joe at the numbers game …

A bloke called Diogenes emerged from Greece! Hey, I just know, lately my nocturnal  operations provided quality? Really? Study the universe, virtual wisdom, xenophobic yawn, zark!

Hey! Shit man. What?  An alpha or betic or maybe even diabetic dream? Hmm, what’s going on ? Must be time to go back out into space. Jules, you know, the S.S. Julian II, my spaceship,  is hiding on the dark side of the moon. Hmm, good name for an album. Jules hates being spotted as a UFO by NASA and all those other space freaks that are looking for  life outside Earth. See Earth can’t join the space community because we are still too tribal. Jules says that there’s nothing worse than a redneck American farmer that says “Eye’s seeen a UFO”. Cause we all know that aliens and UFO’s only appear in front of redneck American farmers. Well, sort of.

Anyhoo, I’ve had a gutful of sports stars and the like so today I’m going to talk to shadow Finance Minister Joke Hocknee.  To make it easier to follow the interview  I’m gonna do the initials thing at the side.

FOW: So Joke, you are good with maths then?

JH: Yes Sandy, one plus one equals two or thereabouts. Just depends on the core lie/non core lie theory.

FOW: Yes, but Joke you must surely understand investment strategies, shares etc. that must have a long term positive effect for the Australian voting public?

JH: Yes Kerry, er, um, Sandy, if we juxtaposed the symbiosis of the syntax we can say that nothing is certain. Except for certainty.

FOW: You must be concerned at the dollar meeting parity with the Greenback?

JH: Yes Sandy, the Greenback whale is welcome in our waters at any stage. We are all for conversation.

FOW: Don’t you mean conservation?

JH: Yes, that too, what ever it is.

FOW: As shadow treasurer do you see your party being able to reign in the banks on interest rates?

JH: Absolutely Sandy. One word from the banks and we will do whatever they want.

FOW: So Joke, If I could grant you a wish, what would you like to see happen?

JH: Oh it’s easy Sandy. Work your guts out for nothing while your boss gets rich.

That’s all tonight from the Devon Hurty Report, I’m Sandy O’Way, Canberra.

11.1 Sandy: On the Road to Bali.

02 Tuesday Nov 2010

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Indonesian Justice System – Schappy style – Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

 

Warning: The following article is rated MA15+. It contains,

Drug references

A sex scene

Humour

Total stupidity

Sandy here. The Bish wants me to go to Bali and put in a good word for my mate Shappy. Shappy has lodged an appeal for clemency with the President. Shappy feels hard done by for getting 20 years jail for a tiny bit of dope in her bag, well okay, a couple of kilos, well 4.2kg to be precise.

As usual I bribe the guards with some suspicious white powder and Pigs Arms T-shirts, I mean, who wouldn’t want a Pigs Arms t-shirt? Hint, hint. I am led to a room with some tables and chairs and Shappy is sitting at a table.

“Hi Shappy, you’re looking well?”

“Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes, yes. Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes, yes.”

“Shappy what are you doing?” I ask totally bewildered. “I’m giving you a hmm job Father, I mean, isn’t that what all men want, hmm jobs?” relates Shappy. “But Shappy, all you are doing is sitting at a table and making sounds” I inform rather perplexed. “But yes Father, this is paper sex and sex sells, you want this story to sell right? So you can become rich and famous, don’t you?” hmms Shappy. “Paper sex?” I exclaim. “Yes, Father, it’s a new trend, its safe and you can have it whenever you want. So what you do is type on the screen what you want to happen and yeah, there it is, like you’re about to put up some inverted comma’s and say says Shappy” says Shappy.

“So Shappy, you have made an appeal to the President Sussudio BangBang Yodelyokoono?” I inquire. “Hmm, yes, I’ll give him a hmm job, I’m sure he’ll let me out, Hmm, hmm, oh, yes, yes, yes oh my god, hmm, hmm, hmm, more, more, yes, yes yes.”

[Insert explicit sex scene here]

I leave the poor estranged figure of Shappy and interview a senior official at Kerobokan prison, Maid In Sardinia. “Maid, mate, I believe if Shappy observes prison regulations, she could be out in a little over four years?” “Well Sandy” replies Maid “yes, no, maybe.” I take a large envelope out of my jacket pocket displaying the glistening notes of cash “Well Sandy” beams Maid “Lets make that three years, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean!”

I leave the prison and head for the President’s palace. “So Sussudio, mate, are you going to let Shappy out early?” I ask knowing you are all waiting with baited breath for the answer’. “Well Sandy, yes, no, maybe.”

So I rings the Bish. “Bish, its Sandy. Look mate she as mad as a cut snake. Oh and did you like the Phil Collins and Yoko Ono gag?” “Sandy you just get that girl zarking home, you com-pre-hen-day?” roars the Bish. “Me and Basil Sauce have money riding on this.” Bloody Basil Sauce, the local pasta at the opposition, him and the Bish, always betting with each other. And those others that have now become involved, you know, Cab Ornara, Put Tenessca and Chee Can Curry. Think I might have to go back into space.