Tag Archives: humor

GOD rescues the Pigs Arms

30 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by in Big M, Merv

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Gordon comes to the rescue…

Written by Big M

It had been a busy morning, what with the Night Nurses enjoying their first post lock down get together. It all went swimmingly until Big M knocked over a bottle of Shiraz, which managed to contaminate everybody’s uniforms. He had no excuse for the sudden lack of balance; he was only five pints in. Mark managed to steer him towards the door. “It’s orright, I’m ketchin’ the 3801” Big M slurred.

“That’s right, buddy, just wait for that big steam engine to pull up, then you’ll be on yer way.” Mark soothed as he dumped Big M onto the bus stop seat.

Foodge had been at the coffee machine all morning. He was desperate for a piss, I mean, micturition, so turned to ask Merv or Mervette to man the coffees. He suddenly realised he was alone, with a group of thirsty concreters bearing down on the bar. “Manne, Granny, O’Hoo, anybody??”

“O’Hoo popped his head around the corner. “What’s all of the yelling about?”

“Mate, I’ve been abandoned with a phalanx of thirsty tradesmen bearing down on me.”

“Well, you know that I can’t pull a pint!” O’Hoo tried to stand his ground but the concreters had made it to the bar. “Oh, fuck.” O’Hoo started pulling Trotters Best, all half beer and half foam.

A fresh beer Merv and make it snappy as a crocodile sandwich!

“We aint payin’ for this shit.”

“All on the house.” Mumbled O’Hoo.

Thankfully Granny arrived on the scene. “What in the name of Gordon O’Donnell are you doing?”

“Tryin’ to help.” Muttered O’Hoo as he passed another half arsed pint across the bar.

Granny slipped behind the bar to expertly pour a couple of pints. “Okay youz blokes, happy hour is over so there’s no more free piss.” She quickly checked each tap. “O’Hoo, IPA and Stout need to be replaced, oh, and by the way, thanks for stepping in.”

O’Hoo raced to the cellar, where he was most at home. Foodge tugged on Granny’s sleave. “I’m desperate for a wee wee.”

“Hold onto yer water works for a minute. Where the bloody hell is that barmaid I’m payin’”

“Well, um, you can probably hear her.” Foodge was either going to have to hold onto his knob or micturated in the sluice.”

From the back of the pub. “Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

Granny located the source of the noise and tore open the storeroom door. She was horrified by the sight of a shaved, four legged, gorilla. She suddenly realised it was Merv and Mervette butt naked enjoying a conjugal visit. She was so angry she could barely speak. “Pull yer fuckin’ pants up and get outta my sight!”

Granny wandered back to the bar. “Are you still desperate for a Jimmy Riddle, Darling?” The sight of her lover had calmed her somewhat.

“Not now.” Foodge answered guiltily.

“Oh, Gordon O’Donnell help me.” Pleaded Granny.

“What can I do, dear?” Gordon appeared in the doorway of the Gents, busily trying to pull up his fly.

Wanking is fun…I’m a big wanker

Granny’s eyes misted over as she tried to put her arms around Gordon, but finding nothing but air. “Now, Granny, you know that us supernatural beings don’t like to be touched. I’m aware of the problem and I’ve summoned my best man for the job.

Father O’Way suddenly appeared. “Where shall I start Granny, oh, perhaps I should deal with the smell of piss behind the bar?”

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…

Episode 95 – Foodge Granny Reminisces

08 Friday Sep 2017

Posted by in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

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Manne brings his battery to the bar

Granny Reminisces (the other bit)

Story by Big M

MR Foodge appeared at the bar. “What’s wrong, my young, mentally challenged, chap?” Foodge always thought that ‘mentally challenged’ was a sort of compliment.

“Oh, ah, me phone.” Manne proffered the dead instrument to Foodge.

“Ah, yes, no battery…hold on.” Foodge rummaged through his Dressing Gown pockets,

Call Emmjay now for a good time on 1800-Big-One

and came up with three bobby pins, many tissues (yike), paper clips, a photo of Granny, and a iPhone lead. He looked around eagerly for a charger.

“Here, mate.” Angler, who didn’t seem to be part of the story, passed along one of those fancy backup battery, thingummies. “Never leave home without it.”

“Fabulous.” Foodge put it all together. “Now, let’s all see what our young friend is on about?”

YOUR IOS DEVICE IS INFECTED WITH SEVEN VIRUSES, WHICH WERE FROM PORN SITES. OUR ANTIVIRUS CAN ERRADISHCAKE THEM FOR ONLY $129.99.

Nurse Intensive Care

Foodge raised a baristerial eyebrow, then passed it to Angler, who nearly fell orff his barstool laughing, who passed it to Gib who nearly choked on his ale, before passing it to Hung who sniggered before passing it to the night duty nurses, who all laughed uproariously, before giving it to Emmjay, who, being a serious, fatherly sort of a cove, shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a scam, Manne, there won’t really be porno driven viruses in your phone!”

“Porno, porno, yer watchin’ porno?” Granny snatched the phone from Emmjay for a good look. “You’ve got three tabs open, fulla nudies!” Granny smacked him a couple of times around the back of the head.

“Now, Granny, calm yourself.” Foodge managed to hold her back preventing her from unleashing another salvo of slaps. “You know he’s got a soft head, which won’t take much abuse!”

“Well, I won’t have a pervert under my roof, back yer bags, and yer titty magazines, or whatever yerve got!”

Bambi does Dallas

“Now, Granny, Dear.” Started Foodge. “This may be a symptom of something much deeper…”

“Yes, a deep perve!” Granny slammed the phone down on the bar, cracking the glass.

“No, er, well. Yes, but not perve, um, I mean perversion.” Foodge tried to clean up the glass. “I suspect that our Manne is, well, lonely.”

He’ll be fuckin’ lonely..” Granny was red faced, with beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“No, well, that’s what I’m trying to say, our faithful retainer, young Manne, needs a woman in his life.”

Folk struggling with sexuality

“A woman, thought he was gay, or Mormon, or something!” Granny was trying to mop the sweat from her face with some of those recycled serviettes, you all know, the brown ones that doing everything except absorb fluid.

“I’m not gay, or Mormon, or Callithumpian!” Manne had at last found his voice. “While we’re at it, do I owe some phone people $129.99 Mr Emmjay?”

“No, son.” Resonated Emmjay’s kindly voice. ”But your phone’s fucked!” With that he left.

“So, yer on the level then, Foodge?” Granny seemed to be calmed by Foodge’s presence.

“Of course, my Dear!” Foodge blushed to be calling Granny ‘Dear’ in front of the patrons. “The question is, where would we find a girl for Mann?”

Foodge and Granny

Merv goes Solar

07 Thursday Sep 2017

Posted by in Mark

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Merv and the boys having a few Trotters at the front bar

 

Merv goes Solar.

Story by Mark.

Merv is a bit worried at the moment as he has received a power bill for the pub from the WheezeGunnaRipYouOff power company. Apparently the power bill for the Pigs Arms has gone up from $4 a year to $5 dollars a year. And if you take 4 away from 5 you get, um, well a really big number, maybe even binary.

“Granny, get ear” yells Merv, “Somefinks wrong with Bill”.

“Who the hell is Bill, anyway I’m to busy making wedgies with my famous herring and

Granny gets on top

Vegemite sauce” replies Granny in a fit of rage.

“No its electricity Bill, the one that the honest straight up government that never told a lie said it wouldn’t happen” says Merv.

“But days a pack of poofters Merv, days as bent as Alan Jones” gruffs Granny.

“But if you take 4 away from 5 you get an awful increase in our power bills. Wheeze need to talk to the pub owner” implores Merv. “However wheeze don’t know who that is.”

Gordon materialises at the bar. Geez, I wish he wouldn’t do that as he may scare kiddies.

“Gordon, do you own the Pigs Arms?” asks Merv.

“Nah, not me mate I voted Labor. So lets work this through, fictional characters wont, so Granny, Merv, Hedgie, Fern and Foodge are out. Now pass me the phone book. I’ll dial the Pigs Arms and see who answers” says Gordon.

What was that phone number again

Ring, ring, ring ring ring etc., as we all know it would only be woman to answer the fone, the men are too busy scratching their nuts and boasting about how good they was on the footy field. “Hello, The Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle, Granny speaking”

“Granny I’d like to speak to Dee Owner” says Gordon using his best British accent.

Granny announces “Phone call for Dee, Dee Owner, phone call for Dee Owner.”

The crew look perplexed and say nothing as Emmjay appears out of the men’s with urine stain intact on the front of his pants, forgot to shake that last drop and takes the call.

“Yes, Emmjay hear, to whom is I speaking” replies the only educated one in the room, well except for the girls.

“My name is Goldenrod Longeron” replies Gordon using his quick wit and a gizmo he got from Spaceworld on special for $9.99 to make him appear godly. “It’s to do with your electricity Bill that has gone up by a $1 per year and your staff are concerned about how this bill will be paid seeing no one pays their extensive bar tabs at your establishment. Are you the owner?”

“Oh no” says Emmjay “ Therese Trouserzoff is the owner you would have to speak to

“Therese!”
“Trouserzoff!”
Lovely to meet you

him or her.”

“Well is he or she there?” asks Gordon.

“Um no, but give me your name, number,  breast size and penis length and I’ll get him or her to call you” dodges Emmjay.

“Okay, my name is Dendron Dongle Rondo and my number is 555-5555 and eyes from the WheezeGunnaRipYouOff company, 44DD and 30 cm ” replies Gordon.

Emmjay is starting to shit himself at this stage and thinks well at least that matches the urine stain on his $500 Levi’s. One front one rear.

Wadda ya think about going renewable?

“Hey, I’ve got an idea” chips in Merv “Lets go solar and piss this wanker off. I remember at skoll learning so la fark tea dough, wadda ya reckon.”

 

 

 

The mind, if you have one, boggles.

 

Americans hate beards…

That was my fourth mistake …

27 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by in Emmjay

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Portrait Of Happy Mature Male Doctor

Portrait Of Confident Mature Male Doctor Standing In Front Of American Flag – borrowed with thanks from some place

Story by Emmjay

… after a week of self-medication with asthma puffers and nasal lavage for a nasty sinus infection and a persistent chunky cough, on the day before Christmas Eve, I decided that enough was enough and I would chance my luck in the hands of the dreaded American (Hawaiian) medical industry.

I am absolutely not saying I got a virus on a 9-hour sardine tin Jetstar flight full of school kids.  No way would I suggest that was the case.

But I was worried that since we were set to fly home on the 27th of December, that I was becoming too unwell to fly – breathing being one of my favourity things.

It was about 8:00 pm and I wandered down to the hotel reception and asked them how to see a doctor.  They gave me a nicely printed card introducing the services of a clan of peripatetic medicos who would deign to attend me  in my room.  Man !  What service.

For some reason I had soaked up the understanding that it was going to cost a couple of hundred dollars to see a GP and being at death’s door, what could go wrong with that ?  After all, if it turned out for the worst there would simply be a little less in my already bare-arsed estate.

The man of medical science – a Korean man, he was –  arrived about an hour later.  He peered down my throat, felt my enraged sub-maxilliary glands and listened to my chest (not with a stethoscope – he just listened) and said that in the interests of nailing my ailments quickly, he wanted to inject twice into my buttocks and once into my arm.

He nominated an industrial grade antibiotic, a steroid and an anti-inflammatory.  Honestly he could have wanted to remove my lungs and have them dry-cleaned and I’d have agreed – I was feeling (searches for most appropriate description)… totally shithouse.

He mixed up the antibiotic cocktail, thoughtfully adding a tad of somethingcaine because injected antibiotics hurt otherwise.

It was at this time, FM (who was somewhat under the hammer herself) inquired as to the likely size of our investment in American voodoo.  He was a bit evasive, indicating, I was led to believe, that the bill would be made up by his employer – somewhere in Florida.  He got us to confirm that we had travel insurance and he was adamant that we would have no trouble being recompensed.

I mean he’s got a medical degree from the University of Seoul – he’s no dummy.  He ought to be able to do a little mental arithmetic and add up the bill roughly.  So FM tried to assist him.

“Will it be in the hundreds ?”  He looked shocked.  “Thousands, then ?” she persisted.

“Low thousands” he said.  “Oh, great”, my smarting arse said.

He completed delivering the other two liquid miracles into my saggy muscles and the bill came in from Florida via an Email.

The break up of the bill was this – in round (very round) US$s:

  1. Dropping by:            $450
  2. Diagnosis                 $200
  3. Giving injections:    $200
  4. The antibiotics:       $675
  5. Sterioid:                   $575
  6. Anti-inflamm          $575
  7. Tablets (6)               $200

Grand total – US$2,875 – or a tad less than A$4,000.

No wonder sick Americans crawl over the border to Mexico or Canada – all hail Medicare and the Australian pharmaceutical benefits scheme !

I have to say I was shitting blue lights at that stage and increased my mortgage to cover the MasterCard hit.

Next morning, in a lather, I read the fine print on our travel insurance.  They said I had to phone their 7 X 24 helpline.  So I did.  The good folks at NRMA sounded very re-assuring.  I had interrupted their Christmas dinner, but nothing for them was too much trouble.

They said the most important thing was to get better and that I would need to get my GP to write them a letter to confirm my trouble wasn’t a pre-existing condition. He did, and they paid up 8 days later less $100 excess.

I was, and remain unhappy with the hotel for pointing me in the home visit direction – which probably added US$1,000 to the cost of simply walking down to a local clinic.  The hotel people probably wanted to minimise the risk of me seeing a witch doctor and suing the hotel.  Had I called the helpline first, the NRMA people could have pointed me to one (an accredited clinic, not a witch doctor) – but then one probably doesn’t make the best decisions when one is coughing up bits of lung.

Just a word of warning – unless you’re leaking claret all over the floor with multiple gunshot wounds and broken bones (an every day event in America, it seems), DO NOT GO TO THE EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT OF AN AMERICAN HOSPITAL.  That is infinitely more expensive … “Mother’s maiden name ?” – $100.  “I’m sorry, how do you spell that ?  Another $100….. sparkling or still oxygen ?

Just by the by … a month later I’m still recovering – it’s apparently some North American super virus that also attacks the gut as well as the respiratory tract.  That – or the industrial grade antibiotic killed all my gut flora and some other pathogens moved in.  I feel a lot better, and hope to be in top form before this year’s City to Surf.  (No way am I running…. it’s just a November date reference)

But what a joy it was to return to Australia.  To my own GP and be bulk billed.  And then have to fork out for the medicines – TENS of DOLLARS !

May the goddess bless our South Sea paradise.

… I forgot to thank the lovely Australian lady who apologised for overhearing my discussion with the hotel manager the next day “Sir, we never recommend doctors”, “Really ?  What would you suggest your printed card was, if not a recommendation ?”

That kind Australian lady offered to give me some of her stash of Australian amoxicillin – to tide me over, but I was already medicated to the gills.  Bless her for her thoughtfulness, generosity and kindness.

 

 

 

That was my third mistake …

08 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by in Emmjay, Travels

≈ 13 Comments

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That was my third mistake …….

11d80ece51b2614e7493a3adc4fd7b56

Solar Powered Hula Dancer

Story by Emmjay

Yes, mea culpa for imagining that Hawaii was the same as Disney portrayed it in the days of my youth and that it would be all Hawaii 5-0 like the 1970s.

Come on, that’s how you probably see Hawaii in your mind’s eye too.  Wafting palm trees on white sandy beaches fringes by lovely coral reefs, turquoise waters and cloudless blue skies.

On the beach there’s a stand of long boards that rely on the fact that despite the reef, there is somehow surfable waves.  Did I mention the lovely dusky grass-skirted wahines with their floral garlands and surprisingly comfortable half coconut shell bras ?   And the politely seductive hula.  Yes – that too.  There’s the hypnotic sound of ukulele and slack key guitar music, transporting one into dreamland.

Hawaii

Over the way is a benign volcano, waterfalls and lush tropical jungles interspersed with pineapple, banana, sugar cane and coconut plantations – the stuff of many many daiquiris.

The Late Great IZ

…. The Jetstar silver bird touches down gently at Honolulu International.  It is a state-owned and managed airport firmly trapped in the 1960s – a concoction of dark timber and naked concrete.  The customs people are surprisingly friendly and we are whisked to our taxi, chauffeured (by a former veteran from Texas) through an industrial landscape not unlike Mascot.

Down the Nimitz Highway and into downtown Waikiki to the Ilikai Hotel.  The Ilikai was where they filmed the start of the original Hawai’i 5-0.

We arrived exhausted after an all-nighter at about 7:30 am, Hawaii time.  “Sorry sir, the room isn’t available until 3:00 pm.”  …. Thinks  (what – there’s no other room that’ll do for a shower and a quick kip in the mean time ?).

“OK – so can we climb into our swimmers, put our bags in storage and go and snooze on one of the banana chairs by the pool ?”  “Certainly, sir.”  So that’s what we do – grab a quick shower in one of the 1960s change rooms and set up as described.  Towels provided free !

But you see, dear reader that this is Hawaii in the Winter time – which is not on paper so bad since the daily temperature range year round is 27-28 degrees.  But there’s a rider.  In Winter, it rains – hardly worth the name, but 15 or 20 sun showers per day can play havoc with a sooze outside.  We huddle two banana chairs under a large pool-side umbrella.  But apparently the Hotel does not allow the guests to MOVE the chairs.

This turns out to be a bad omen (sniffle sniffle).

We persist and eventually our upgraded room on level 23 becomes available and we score the shower, a snooze on a Hawaii Corrections Department discipline bed (honestly I could have slept on a concrete floor with a bed painted on it – and  that may have been preferable.

We rouse ourselves in time for dinner and fortunately “Claire” and Australian girl from Narrabeen who visited “Cinnamon” – the Ilikai’s casual in-house noshatorium – a few weeks ago recommended it unreservedly on TripAdviser.  I can see now with hindsight that “unreservedly” meant that she didn’t have a reservation.

Red Velvet Pancakes.JPG

colour is accurate but may vary with the proportion of lead oxide, chromium hexafluoride, uranium oxide and cadmium oxide in your recipe.

I would describe the food as nouveau Long Jetty with Pasadena accents.  I ordered the red velvet short pancake stack – not because I expected a fine dining experience, but because, by late afternoon tea time I was famished.  Now those of us unfamiliar with red velvet pancakes may benefit from a description.  Imagine a circular computer bag capable of protecting say a 12” laptop – made of fire engine red velvet, stacked on top of an identical twin.  Both of them topped with a cheeky lattice of white chocolate extrusions.  Note the above picture is a long stack, but lacks the essential half a kilo of white chocolate lattice on top.

I suppose you’d also want to know what it tasted like.  I’m not so confident I can help you here, but do you know that an average Australian adult (not completely sedentary) male needs to consume 8,700 kilojoules per day ?  Two big Macs will blow that out of the water just about.  Considering red velvet pancakes ?  Consider your baggage allowance first.

Sorry, where was I ?  Oh yes, the food thing.

Now I don’t want to get you upset by what I’m going to say.  We all know I’m not ageist or sexist beyond what would be considered approximately politically correct at an RSL prawn night, but the most alarming thing – that was to be repeated over and over during our stay on the formerly-pineappled isle, was that the waitress (goddess bless her cotton socks) – was, as the British like to say “extremely fit”.  I would like to add “ … for a person in her 70s.

She was / is a fantastic waitress, but it made me sad that I was supporting a society so ignorant of appropriately civilised norms that Americans think it’s OK for people the same age as our Nan to work shifts waiting table for slave wages.

This put FM and me in the invidious position of having to tip Nan (one was actually called “Babette” – I kid you not) 20% just so she could pay her electricity bills.  That meant that a couple of short stacks of red velvet pancakes, a couple of “weak as piss” coffees* and a pineapple daiquiri (to steady my nerves) ran out at about A$70.  Goddess help us when we had to set down to proper food.  This fortunately only happened twice in ten days – excluding breakfasts we made ourselves.

…….. next up, the 10% discount, the 20% surcharge, the $15 per day hospitality fee, the $150 discount with strings attached and the $50 Neiman Marcus voucher… subtitled “Come in sucker”

  • Tom Waits in “Night Hawks at the Diner” tells a story where he was sitting in a diner and his pork chop “got up off the plate and beat the shit out of his coffee.  Well, the coffee was too weak to defend itself, heh heh.”

Favourites of 2015 Part 3

08 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by in Algernon, Bands at the Pig's Arms

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2015 favs 4

 

Playlist by Algernon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CK3uf5V0pDA

Back on the Chain Gang – The Pretenders

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx3m4e45bTo

Bittersweet symphony – The Verve

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Oc1BtjvvRA

Clocks – Coldplay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzuRw0ZqQdU

Don’t touch me there – The Tubes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTP2RUD_cL0

Money for nothing – Dire Straits

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnh7x8aU26g

Two Tribes (12” remix) – Frankie Goes to Hollywood

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DuCIGvsbMA

Vienna – Ultravox

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3j2NYZ8FKs

West end girls – Pet Shop Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9G4jnaznUoQ

Dancing in the Street – David Bowie and Mick Jagger

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4b1wt3-zpzQ

Little Green Bag – George Baker Selection

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwIe_sjKeAY

Our house – Madness

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NZ04BG7TfA\

Go West – Pet Shop Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcWVL4B-4pI

Blinded by the light – Manfred Mann

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHNdQJPmTRU

See my baby jive – Wizzard

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9r8LMU9bQ

Rock the Casbah – The Clash

 

 

Medical Talk

29 Thursday Dec 2011

Posted by in Uncategorized

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"Nurse, can I have a bedpan?" By Warrigal

 

Given the latest brouhaha about diagnosing syndromes and medical terminology I thought I would give you some insight into how we talk to each other at work about patients.

Disclaimer: Any one that can identify or relate to any of the following has both feet firmly planted on the ground and is a realist.

“Hey, RN (Registered Nurse), the PIA(Pain in the Arse) in Room 2 has just had a DNM (Deep and Meaningful) with the PCW (Personal Care Worker) about the TIA (Trans Ischaemic Attack) he had that led to a CVA (Cerebral Vascular Accident)” says the EN (Enrolled Nurse).

“What does the PRICK (Slang for male genitalia) want?” quips the RN.

“He wants a PRN (medication given as necessary) SC(Sub Cutaneous), IM(Intra Muscular), IV(Intra Venous) or O(Oral) pain killer preferably an S8(Schedule 8 of the Poisons Schedule) or S4(Schedule 4 of the Poisons Schedule) but definitely not PR(Per Rectum)” retorts the EN.

“FUCK(Slang for fornication)”says the RN, thinking SHIT(Slang for faeces) I’ll have to do some paper work now. “How about two saccharine(PLACEBO) and a cup of coffee?” parries the RN.

“Nah. I mean the (L)(Left) BKA(Below Knee Amputation) was only 4/7(4 days ago) ago” states the EN.

SHIT, FUCK, PISS(slang for urine)(Therefore faeces, fornication, urine), I’ll really have to some paper work now. “When did he have his last BO(Bowels Open), maybe he just needs C&S(Coloxyl with Senna, a well know aperient) or a PR Microlax(A commercially available enema)?”. Sticking your gloved finger up someone’s bottom is far better than doing any paper work.  “Take a UA(Urine Analysis) from his IDC(In Dwelling Catheter) for an MSSU(Mid Stream Specimen of Urine) and send it to path(pathology). Put him on NBM(Nil By Mouth) and flush his PEG(Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy) with 100mls of H2O(Water). Initiate a TS(Treatment Sheet) for his ST(Skin Tear) for his (R)(Right) Shin(Shin).” This will bluff them thinks the RN.

“What will that do for his pain?” asks the EN.

“Look, I am the RN, you are the EN, the pecking order is I tell you what to do” asserts the RN but yes it will do SFA(Sweet Fuck All) for his pain but it may take his mind off it. “Is he a BSP(Believer in Sky Pixies)?” proffers the RN hoping another red herring will prevent having to do paper work.

“Nah, look he’s an NFR(Not For Resuscitation) but it says in his notes that he is a Jedi” replies the EN.

Jesus H. Christ, thinks the RN, a loon(an abbreviation of lunatic)(Loon – anyone that does not agree with the RN). “Ok, I’ll ring the MO(Medical Officer) but lets give him some haloperidol(a really nasty drug that sedates you), midazolam (a really nasty drug that makes you forget) and some morphine(a really nasty drug that relieves pain by making you sleep and dream. Morphine is more addictive than air). Bloody hell, thinks the RN, this job would be great if it wasn’t for the patients.

 Keywords: Nursing, terminology, palliative care, humor, humour

 

Father O’Way in Sri Lanka

08 Thursday Sep 2011

Posted by in Mark

≈ 28 Comments

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Licky licky goo goo

 

Hi, look Father O’Way here. I’m really miffed. The Bish, you know Bishop Bishop of the St Generic Brand Church of Inner Western Cyberia has got the audacity to ring me in the Caribbean on my holidays with the beautiful Belinda to do a job.

 Anyhoo, enough whingeing. I have to go and find out what is going on behind the scenes in the Australian cricket team. Apparently the selectors have been dumped and everyone hates Greg Crapell, I mean, is this the bleeding obvious or what.

So I fly to Sri Lanka, you know the home of the paradise island, tea, coconuts and rocket launchers. Geez, thanks Bish.

Using some suspicious white powder, some green looking dried vegetable and gold bars I work my way into the inner sanctum of Australian cricket, the bar.

As usual all of the players have finished their lines, cocaine usually and are chatting around the bar.

“Did you all hear old chaps that Greg Crapell will be staying on for the tour?” I asked the group of players.

Ah f#@k, s@#t, p@#s, Geez a@#s were some of the more notable replies.

“What do think Greg can add to the team?” Geeps, who are my script writers, I’ll get killed for this.

F@#k all, he’s absolutely s#@t from a alpaca, for f@#k sake burn him at the stake and he doesn’t even eat meat, eeeewwww, were some of the more common answers.

“You have won the first test and would be confident going into the next match. I see that a former groundsman has been capped and did well, what are your thoughts on this?” Man, I’m shitting my self asking this one, I mean these guys are on coke, pissed, rich, ego centric, fit, aggressive, nasty, win at all costs sort of dudes.

F@#king good on ‘im mate, geez them wops are p@#s weak, can’t beat a f@#king groundsman, a@#s lickers mate, again were some of the more notable comments.

“Do you think Greg  Crapell is the sort of guy that attracts lots of # symbols and @ symbols?” I venture rather nervously. This crowd is getting ugly.

F@#king oath, you bet you a@#e and F@#k you uncle, again were more of the notable replies.

Father O’Way here. Signing out, in his lounge room, Nowhere, I hope….

Chilean Miners Redux

14 Sunday Aug 2011

Posted by in Neville Cole

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Llamas gather for the 1 year celebration of the miners' release

Story (and the good photographs) by Neville Cole

This week I returned to Chile to celebrate the anniversary of Chilean miners release from their harrowing 69 day ordeal underground. What I found was far from a joyous occasion. Several of the miners and I gathered at a popular local bar in Copiapo called The Man Cave. Here now, in their own words, several of the miners talk about the events of the past year.

The Author enjoys a beer in a quiet corner of the Man Cave

NC: Yesterday was the anniversary celebration of your release from the mine. Did it turn out as you expected?

YONNI: For me, it did. Things have been very bad since we got out of the mine. Why would this be any better?

EDISON: I did not expect to be pelted with apples and oranges. I did not even get to sing Blue Suede Shoes.

NC: You have become quite famous this past year for your Elvis impersonation, haven’t you Mr. Pena? You even were invited to visit Graceland, as I understand. I am surprised Jaime never mentioned your singing in his diary.

YONNI: His singing is as bad as his marathon running! 5 hours, 40 minutes and 51 seconds! What a joke!

EDISON: At least my wife came to see me when I came out of the mine!

YONNI: I wouldn’t be so proud about that! Your wife is hairier than my dog. I thought it was your grandfather you were kissing!

JAIME: Brothers, please! Let us not bring up old quarrels. We are free now are we not? Is not any of this better than being stuck in the mine?

EDISON: You are just happy that his missing wife took some of the heat off you. A wife and a mistress greeting you for the press! Ay! Carumba!

PACO: I for one miss the mine. I have tried to get sent back down many times; but they will not hire me again. That is why I sold my story to the News of the World and started this bar.

MARIO: This place is creepy. Are these fur-covered shackles on the wall?

NC: Mario. Good to hear from you again. From what I understand, you were the miner who spent most of your time underground training to run in marathons yet Edison was flown to New York to compete in last years race. How do you explain that?

MARIO: Edison has a very big mouth. He runs with me 2 maybe 3 times while we are in the mine but as soon as he gets out he is talking like he’s Alberto Salazar or something. I should never have let him go up before me. I might have had a chance at that race. He barely made it in before the sun came up.

EDISON: I will race you any where, any time, any way you want.

NC: Gentlemen. It has not only been a tough time for you but also a difficult year for all of Chile. President Pinera, who was so instrumental in organizing your release, is under attack from all quarters. His popularity has sunk to 26%. Miners have gone on strike closing mines and costing mine companies millions of dollars in lost revenue. Students have closed universities and high schools for more than two months seeking education reform. Mupuche Indians have occupied ancestral lands. There a protests against proposed dams inPatagonia and planned coal mines in the north. At your celebration the President was quoted as saying:

“The time of the protests, the strikes, the takeovers, the violence has passed. Now has come the time to construct and not keep destroying, the time of dialogue and not of intransigence; the time of solutions and not of confrontation, the time of unity and not of division.”

PACO: Do you have a question?

NC: At the protests yesterday it was clear to me that many of your fellow Chilean’s see you as political puppets. How do you feel being so closely aligned with Pinera?

PACO: Pinera is a good man. He has visited my bar many times and always spends a lot of money.

JAIME: I don’t like it at all. We have been treated as dogs and ponies. Poor Omar has gone into shock. When the people threw the fruit at him he stopped talking altogether. I talked to his son, Omar, and he told me his father, Omar,  just sits in the corner and won’t say a word. It is very sad what they have done to us.

EDISON: Omar hardly spoke the whole time we were in the mine either. Face it, he’s just not a talkative guy. Look Pinera is a politician. He is doing his best to run a poor country in difficult times. So, he tries to milk us for a little positive press? What’s the big deal? Is he the first president to try and take advantage of feel good story? No. Will he be the last? No. I can only speak for myself but I have never been happier and if our lawsuit comes through, believe me, even poor old Omar will be grinning like the Cheshire cat.

NC: Let’s talk about that for a moment. You all stand to split 17 million dollars from the Chilean mining companies while your fellow miners are struggling mightily to get a pay raise that amounts to only a few more pesos a day.

YONNI: We were the ones stuck underground for 69 days. Do you think anyone would be even discussing safety if we didn’t get stuck in the mine? They will all gain from our suffering.

NC: But many feel that the reason they are not giving the miners a raise is because they are concerned about the large payout you men may receive.

EDISON: It’s all politics. There is plenty of money to go round. Maybe we do need a new president. Maybe someone who knows what it is like work underground should be president. Maybe someone with connections in the United States should be president. Maybe someone who can sing like the king should be president.

JAIME: Edison is thinking of running for president.

NC: Really. I hadn’t heard that.

EDISON: When I am named president I am going to step to the podium and say “Thank you. Thank you very much.” Then I’m thinking of opening with Viva Las Vegas but instead of singing “Las Vegas” I’m going to sing “Chile”.

NC: Stranger things have happened. Thank you all for joining me today. It’s been a pleasure talking to you all again.

YONNI: I understood there was going to be a free lunch today?

JAIME: …and beer?

NC: Ah…well, beer I can manage but I didn’t make any plans for lunch.

EDISON: Typical Australian journalist.

Just another Friday night at The Man Cave

After I purchased several rounds, Paco put on some hard driving techno trance and The Man Cave quickly filled with patrons ready to party the night away. It seems there was to be a celebration for the miners after all.