Tag Archives: Father O’Way

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.

11. Sandy Returns – From where, not sure?

23 Saturday Oct 2010

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Hi. Sandy here. For the new I’m Father Alexander “Sandy” O’Way. I’m the parish priest at the St Generic Brand Church in Inner Cyberia in the Western suburbs. The parish covers the Pigs Arms and I am often down there, sinking a glass canoe of Trotter’s Ale and debating science with Emmjay, or in other words talking bullshit. Oh, and I have recently been in space, travelling several galaxies researching baked beans for the creator of the Universe, Gordon O’Donnell, an astrophysicist from another dimension. Anyway, that’s another story.

Anyhoo, they let me out of the local psychiatric unit after the Bish, you know, my boss, Bishop Bishop came and bailed me out. Now I’m back with my Bel, you know Belinda, Glenda’s little sister, whom I married and then Gordon tells me he wants me to go back into space. Yeah right!

So I have to find out what happen between Picky Runting and Shame Worn, you know, they are cricketers, the most boring game in the universe. A good saying would be “I’ve seen grass grow, paint dry and a cricket game”, know what I mean. Personally I couldn’t give a rat’s toss bag, what ever that means, but the Bish had a bet with Pastor Sauce that they will replace Runting with Michael Fark. I mean, tie me down and spank my bottom, Gees arse.

I visit Picky at his rural Tasmanian home that he had completely relocated to the Sydney outskirts. Convenient hey. “Picky, dude, what’s this spat with you and Worny?” I ask showing my severe interest by yawning half way through the question.

“Ah, nothing Father. Look me and Worny is mates and nothing can come between us. He has his views and I have mine but unfortunately his views are all wrong and mine are always right and so I am going to belt the zark out of him, oops, Sorry Father, I seek means of a redemption through negotiation rather than senseless violence, ugh”. “What about Fark for captain?” I enquire. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe”

Hmmm, now lets see what Worny has got to say for himself. I visit Shame in the majestic mansion that he built for himself by being able to bowl spin, telling lots of other people to zark off and how great he is, yeah right. “Shame, dude, what’s this spat with you and Runting?” I ask showing my severe interest by yawning half way through the question. “Ah, nothing Father. Look me and Picky is mates and nothing can come between us. He has his views and I have mine but unfortunately his views are all wrong and mine are always right and so I am going to belt the zark out of him, oops, Sorry Father, I seek means of a redemption through negotiation rather than senseless violence, ugh”. “What about Fark for captain?” I enquire. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe”

Gee did you get a de jevu or what?  I mean are these guys similar. So I rings my good mate and colleague in India. The former test player now journalist Asif Iwood. “Asif mate, did Runting or Horrorwitch set bad fields in the last series?” I ask totally uninterested in the answer. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe.” Hmm, deep. We’re getting somewhere here. “So Asif should they have played two spinners?” I ask as it’s written on a piece a paper for me by some cricket nut job to ask. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe.”  Wow, mystical stuff.

So I rings the Bish “Hey Bish, it’s Sandy” I announce rather bravely. “Your money is as safe as the American banking system collapsing, Bish, Bish, are you okay?”

10. Ur, um, the end bit

19 Monday Jul 2010

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The Joyous couple

Sandy here, back here on Earth and married to the beautiful Belinda, March 19, ouch, 21, okay, sheez! No need to be so touchy!  After a stay in the Regen-O-Bubble on Missen, Helvi and Belinda got rid of the little rodent Howard by blowing the zark out of him with a Waughhead [Thanks Waz,] The girls then did a pub crawl from Andromeda back to the Milky Way. Well, I must say, girls will be girls. Well I sort of wanted to stay on Missen. I had become used  to the way of life and  well, you know, shiraz, steaks and lots of things that now escape my mammary, er, um, oops, memory.

Anyhoo, Gordon has paid off the ICCB to go and zark off, the S.S. Julian II has rounded up a mighty cast and returned to Earth, yes that’s right Earth home now for Sandy and Belinda, no more space roaming for me. I’m a new man. It was an adventure being out there in space but give me the quiet parish life any day. See priests in my religion can get married. At our church you just insert the name of your God into out text sheet and away you go. No one cares about your views and everyone accepts each others rights to which fictional creature you want to talk to, everyone’s a winner.

Bishop Bishop performed the ceremony at the parish church of St Generic Brand. The post wedding party is at the Pigs Arms. Merve along with Granny and the two Vivienne’s, oh, yes, look the crew have come down for the wedding so we have the situation where like is meeting like, I mean its zarking freaky man, like imagine Voice meeting Catherine!

I look around the crowd and lots of people have turned up. Big M and Pussy Couscous have travelled from Missen. Zig and Zag have come from Zog.  Zig wants to begin tours to Earth  as Earth men are so easy, if you know what I mean.

It’s funny watching the crew from the S.S Julian II meet the locals at the Pigs Arms. The Vivienne’s don’t seem to be able to agree about cups. Astyages and Dave, the guitar droid, are working on a song list ready to play after the food has gone down. Helvi and the Helvi-tastic are agreeing on everything and everything while GO and Gerard are discussing Van Gough and Wagner. Emmjay and the first mate are swapping brewing techniques with Michael Jones, the publican of the Bats Droppings. Yes there all here. Even Mr and Mrs A are here, looking resplendid as usual and in deep conversation with Geo.r.ge.

I gaze at Belinda. She is beautiful beyond reproach. I am the lucky guy, I’ve won my lotto. Belinda has all her sisters for bridesmaids, Glenda, Juanita, Jacinta, Melinda, Rosita, Edwina , Sophia and Cassandra. Boy, am I going to have some birthday parties to go to, well, someone’s gotta do it.

I see Gordon, you know Gordon O’Donnell the creator of the universe, he has been busy having a few pints of Trotter’s Ale and approaches me. “Sandy, you old dog, got the pick of the bunch with young Miss Belinda” proffers Gordon, pulling back on a Café Crème “Yes, she’s a dish for sure Gordon” I answer rather distractedly as Gordon’s eyes have narrowed and he has grabbed me around the shoulder and pulled me in close to him. Is he batting for the other team? I think to myself “Sandy, look old chum there’s just one thing. I enrolled in uni next year and I need some help……”

[Authors note: Sandy was last seen in the back of an ambulance, in a white coat heading for the funny farm, yelling at the top of his lungs “PPPPPPPPPPPPPPiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggsssssss in ssssssspppppppppaaaaaaaaaaacccceeeeee.]

Kerobokan Gets Father O’Way

15 Thursday Jul 2010

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Sandy Beach

Well, Father O’Way here, I mean look firstly she told me she was sixteen, sorry not my child, I was outta town that night anyway, I was just trying to show her the Heimlich Manoeuvre honest, boy so many questions.   So the Bish banishes me to Indonesia, over a little fling with the housekeeper and bit of dope left in my boogie board bag, I mean it was only a few kilos.  Filling in for 2 weeks at Kerobokan Prison as resident Chaplain with my little Shappy, I mean, this was going to be hell, pardon the pun.

Shappy said most people sleep on the floor of their cell. Hers sleeps 6 and is a tight fit.  I asked why they didn’t use bunk beds.  “It’s very tight in there.” said Shappy, pointing to her sarong, hmmm I thought, I love a tight fit.  Shappy said she couldn’t give me any info on what was going on.  I said, “But people are interested in your mental state and your cleavage oops I mean conditions?”  She said she was holding up okay and when I told her that the guards and the media were saying she wasn’t accepting visitors, she said don’t believe everything you read in the press, especially anything on the bulletin board at the Pig’s Arms.  Shappy said there’s no tennis court at Kerobokan as reported in the newspaper, I mean fecking hell, no tennis court!

I asked her about the lack of daylight, she said she has gotten used to the fluorescent light being on the whole time, “Christ, oops sorry Father, not even a fecking energy saver”.  The press likes to exaggerate everything and one source said she had not seen the light of day for 6 months.  When I saw her she looked tanned, more tanned than me.  She has an ample breast line, curvy waist, long legs and a million dollar smile.  “Father, Father”, she yelped, “No hands please, but lower Father, much much lower”.

We bribe the guard with a Pig’s Arms t-shirt to let us go downtown, I mean, who wouldn’t want a Pigs Arm’s t-shirt.  We walk to the Hotel Intan Bali and stop for a bevy at the Kakatua Lobby Bar.  Shappy says the beers are crap here.  I tell her I have a six pack of Trotters, she looks at me “Father, I’d do anything for a Trotters, I mean anything”.  So we go down the beach and we have a photo taken of us in the sand as we knock back a few ales.  I ask Shappy if there was one message to give people back home, something that would show that she was innocent.  After a long pause she replied “Yes Father, can someone mind my hydro!”

from the Pig’s Arms’ correspondent in Bali, well, Hung

9.1 Belinda got a gun, Belinda’s having fun

07 Monday Jun 2010

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The boys have landed on a deserted ICCB planet to get a little practice in before the main game against the Deathball

Pics by Warrigal

Belinda here. Helvi and I have taken the S.S. Julian II out into space while Sandy is having rehabilitation after hitting, well head butting, the winning runs in the one day final on Missen for the Male Nurses United. Our enemy, Lord John “The Rat” Howard had threatened to take military action against the Flongians so we decided to lure him away. We left behind 500 elite Helvi trained troops to protect Sandy just in case, at the advice of our garrison commander Al, Al Foyle. Al’s sort of spooky, he has these deep blue eyes, just like Sandy when he hasn’t been on the shiraz, and he doesn’t say much but seems to able to figure things out brilliantly.

The Julian has the fire power to match the Rats death ball. The big problem is the Death Ball’s defence shield which, like ours, protects the ship from space debris to laser cannon fire. Helvi and I call a meeting with Al, GO, Catherine and Warrigal. “Okay everyone” I start “anyone got any ideas on how we are going to get them to turn off the defence shield?” “How about we tell them I want to paint it?” says GO as he writes the words ‘cark it’ on a piece of paper and ponders off into the distance. “I know” says Warrigal “why don’t we just ask them to turn it off for a bit” Hmm, We are getting no where fast and without any farcical powers I can see I’m going to need a piece of complex fiction to solve this quandary. Al just sits and smiles however Catherine pipes in “I have an idea, lets ask Julian, he will know being a ship himself?” “Great idea “ says Helvi “And tell him we will fight and die heroes and martyrs” Do you get the idea Helvi has a death wish?

So as usual it takes a while for Catherine to get the answer back from Julian so we head for the pub. Dave the guitar droid is playing some Bill Withers and Michael the publican is doing a crossword. “Tonic water thanks Michael” as I settle in my chair. Of course all the guys get pints of Trotters, terrible stuff, makes you a bit trippy. I’m listening to the music when Catherine strolls in, in her cat mode and jumps up on the bar. “Well Julian has a solution” Catherine informs “See Howard is a cricket freak so Julian says to send the two cricket droids we picked up in the last junk sale, you know, Mark War and Shame Worn”. The bar goes deadly quiet, this is complex fiction at its best. “So I call Howard and tell him the droids want to come over for a chat and present him with the ball that took Mike Gatting’s wicket that went on to be called the ball of the century”. Yes I remember Sandy raving on forever and a day about that ball “But Catherine how will that get rid of Howard?” I ask. “Well” replies Catherine “in the Mark War droid will be a B.O.M.B.” An acronym, lucky Sandy’s not here “An acronym Catherine?” “No not an acronym young Bel, a real bomb, a WaughHead.”

9.0 Rehab a la Sandy

20 Thursday May 2010

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Warrigalised Pig

I open my eyes. Hmmm, where am I? I don’t seem to able to move and I don’t recognise the room. Gees, I must of hung one on last night and have CRAFT Disease at the moment. C’mon, I don’t need to explain that one do I? Okay then, its you Can’t Remember A F*#@king Thing, c’mon guys you know I hate swearing.

Someone approaches, it’s Big M “Hi Sandy” he says “you hero, winning the game for us. Man, the party at the club was wicked, what a shame you missed it,  pity you almost died and ended up here in a regen-o-bubble in the local stute. Yeah, Sandy, you’ve got the best man, IV line, poovac and uripack, mate we’ll have you back to best before you can say, er, um, I mean, um Jack, oh well whoever” Big M informs. “Seems pretty self sufficient” I mumble as I look around at the bubble, “but don’t the nurses do all that?” I ask, “Nah” replies Big M “we just hang around the nurses station and look busy, it’s a bludge man”.

“Where’s Belinda?” I ask. “Well, it’s a long story but she’s out in space at the moment with Helvi” relates Big M “fighting the rat Lord Howard”. Oh, Belinda, what are you doing girl? “Get me outta here Big M?” I ask rather forlornly. “Sandy, you ain’t going nowhere at the moment, you still need another couple of months. Now go back to sleep and when you wake Belinda will be back and all will be well”

I’m having this weird dream. I’m walking down the street when a woman approaches and is thrusting out some eggs. “Deedee” she says “Deedee, deedee”. So I pull out my gun fire a shot into the air and say “Gees, in all the excitement I can’t remember how many shots I have fired. I mean this is a .44 magnum, the most powerful hand gun in the world, I could blow you head off with one shot punk”. The woman replies “well you have only fired one so in theory you should have five left” I thank her and take aim. I’m about to pull the trigger when I wake up. Darn, don’t you hate that, just as you get to the good bit.

Warrigal is sitting on a chair in the room reading a magazine. Knowing Warrigal it’s bound to be a scientific journal of some kind that will explain all the wonders of the universe. “Hey Warrigal, what cha reading?” I ask “The spring edition of Big and Bouncy Sandy” Warrigal replies refusing to move his eyes off the page, hmm, must be something about big objects.

Big M and a woman approach “Sandy, this is Dr. Voice, she is a NERD” Now I have been in space long enough to know what’s coming but my head is hurting so much I fall into line hopelessly “A nerd Big?” I reply. “Yes Dr Voice is a NERD, a Neurological Emergency Response Doctor and she will operate on you.” “Yes Father, I have had your brain scanned only to find that there’s not much there and the tiny little bit you do have needs help if it’s to be saved” informs Dr. Voice. Acronyms, everywhere acronyms. “Well Dr. Voice, do your worst” I reply trying to hide my nervousness “Yes Father, I am sure that I will” says Dr. Voice with a very strange expression on her face. “Oh Sandy” says Big M as the needle goes into my hand “Helvi left this message for you when her and Belinda when back into space, she said don’t worry they will fight and die heroes and martyrs” just as the anaesthetic is administered…..

8.5 Ewe Don’t Know What You’ve Bean Missen

30 Friday Apr 2010

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Everywhere on Missen this emblem invokes fear

We finally arrive at Missen. Belinda and I with Helvi and Warrigal beam down to the surface onto the lawn at Hardy Cocksure’s house. I can hear a female sobbing uncontrollably in the house. We walk to the front door and knock. A woman answers “Yes” she sobs “Hi there, I’m Sandy, Gordon has sent me” I blurt nervously “Is Hardy home?” The woman cries and brings out a tissue to blow her nose “I’m Pussy” she relates, Hmmm, wow, I can see that but I better not go there “My Hardy’s gone LIMP” she bleats “Limp?” I ask “Yes, that’s right, LIMP, Lactose Induced Meltdown Procedure, oh, anyway, come in.” An acronym, I should have known.

Pussy is Hardy’s girlfriend and she relates to us a story of ICCB troops turning up at the door and drugging Hardy with lactose knowing he is lactose intolerant. Pussy tells us that a short little man in a space suit then comes to the door and says “Tell Lord Climate that the games over and to surrender”, Hmmm, I can smell the Rat behind this. Warrigal does a head to toe and then calls the Regen-o-lance while Helvi, who has morphed into combat mode, does a quick reconnoitre of the surrounds hoping she will find 500 elite ICCB troops waiting for her so she can decimate them and have a little fun.

I contact Neville, our navcom, “Neville patch me into the rodents ship please” I state rather assertively, “Yes Lord Climate, patching now” “Lord John speaking” answers the little worm. “You piece of excrement zark off or I’ll blow you out of the sky” I state in my non parish priest style of voice “Sandy, Sandy, Sandy, temper, temper, you seem to be losing it a bit lately” whines the rodent, “Surrender, without Hardy you won’t win the game and Gordon won’t get to complete his thesis” hisses the scheming rat. “Pig’s Arms” I curse and with that I disconnect.

Just then a man steps into the doorway making the door and everything around him look incredibility small. “This is Big M” says Pussy “He will have to captain the team in place of Hardy and Sandy you will have to play” Me, and avid cricket hater actually play cricket, oh for zark sake, what else do I have to do in this story. “So” I ask full of nerves and knocking at the knees “Why do they call you Big M?” “Don’t know really” says Big M “might be because I’m big and my name starts with M but I’ve never really thought about it”

We go to the game the next day. It’s being held at the main ground on Flong called The Foval, I’ll let you guess how it got that name. Hardy’s team is called Male Nurses United and the opposition is the Oppressed Homosexuals. The OP’s win the toss and bat and thanks to a good opening stand of 114 from their openers Brucie and Waggers they go on to post 324 off 50 overs. Gregor, our spinner took 5 for 49 which is pretty good in a one day game.

We bat and thanks to a well crafted ton from Big M we get to 9 for 319 with last man in and one over to go, you guessed it, me. Helvi gives me a pep talk “Now Sandy you must win the game, you fight and die a hero and a martyr” “Helvi, can you leave out the die bit, I’m a born coward don’t forget” The nanobots in my pants are working overtime as I walk out. Luckily I’m at the non strikers end. The bowler for the OP’s is Les, Les Boss and he pushes off the fence to run it. I can’t even see the ball as my eyes are closed but Big M taps the first few back down the pitch. The tension is rising Les calls out “Hey priest, you’re such a pansy you’re on the wrong team” “Just go back and bowl you shirt lifter” replies Big M. “And you’re a another bone idle, good for nothing, purse carrying nancy boy, male nurse” retorts Les. The next delivery Big M smacks through the covers, must be a four, no well fielded keeping it down to a single. Two balls to go, four runs needed. “Hey, isn’t Sandy a girl’s name?” barbs Les, “Just zark off mate or I’ll tell your boyfriend where you were last night” retorts Big M. The heat is getting hot.

You know batting is difficult especially when you have your eyes closed as I did to the first delivery. Big M comes down the pitch “C’mon Sandy, if we win this there will be strippers, kegs, scoobies and steak sandwiches all night back at the club so c’mon, C’MON”. Just as I face up a voice pops in my head “Use the farce Luke, er um, Sandy, use the farce” says Dad. Only trouble is I can’t think of anything stupid. I remember Astyages saying attack is the best form of defence, so lets attack. I point to the stadium as Les starts to run in. American viewers will probably know this as the Statue of Liberty play in baseball. In Australia this is know as a very zarking stupid thing to do. One never riles a vicious fast bowler that has the potential to kill you with a single blow.

I can see Les approaching, his nostrils flaring, his eyes bulging out of his head. His tongue is wailing in the breeze and his hair forms a trail behind him. He bowls, I swing, I miss, ball hits my head, I’m rendered unconscious, the ball sails over the boundary on the full. It’s a six, the Male Nurses United win, Gordon passes his thesis, 326 is the average number of beans in a 440 gram can, life is a wonderful but strange thing, well sort of….