• The Pig’s Arms
  • About
  • The Dump

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

~ The Home Pub of the Famous Pink Drinks and Trotter's Ale

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

Tag Archives: Pigs Arms

11.2 Sandy V’s Joke Hocknee

03 Wednesday Nov 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 33 Comments

Tags

Australia, Father O'Way, humor, Pigs Arms, science fiction

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.

Foodge 15 – Foodge Puts one in for the Boys

02 Thursday Sep 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Foodge, O'Hoo, Pigs Arms, plumbing

A Useful plumber locator - if you live in South Bend Indiana

By Big M

Foodge was feeling relaxed. It was early spring. The air was redolent with the perfume of flowers, which was a contrast to the odours of  ‘McLeod’s, Tanners and Fine Leather makers to the Queen.’ There was no mention of which queen, and of which country. Foodge had good reason to feel relaxed. He’d been away for two weeks in the Southern Tablelands on an intensive watercolour camp that was run by Gez and his mysterious ‘H’.  He’d produced dozen of works of art, which were of surprising quality, but Foodge was still shy about showing them to his fellow patrons. Added to this was the pleasure of driving the rebuilt Zephyr on country roads, plus the five big ones from the previous ‘case’.

“Dja read about the Local Member in the paper?” Enquired Merv, as he pushed another glass canoe across the deeply stained timber of the bar.

“No, I’ve been incontinentia, I mean, incognito, these last few weeks.  Foodge replied, absent-mindedly looking at ‘The Law Review’, which was nowhere near as informative as ‘Barrister’s Weekly’, as there was no Word Finder, very few photographs, and lot’s of long winded articles.

“Incognito doesn’t mean out of touch.” Retorted Merv, as he struggled, in vain, to remove what looked like blood stains from the bar top.

“I think you’ll find it does.” Foodge took a long pull from his canoe, looking only slightly ridiculous with foam from his ‘Trotters Best’ forming a soap like moustache.

“What’s ‘e lost his seat?”

“Lost ‘is seat, an’ gone to gaol.” Merv’s brows were knitted as he scrubbed at the stain. “Got busted importin’ gerbils.”

“Didn’t know it was illegal to import gerbils.” Mused Foodge as he tried to decipher some of the Latin terms in the Review.

“It’s not so much importin’ ‘em, it’s what he did to ‘em once ‘e took delivery.” Merv gave up on the stain, becoming fixated by the carcasses of flies in the display case. His reverie was disturbed by a string of expletives from the Gents.

“Bloody dirty bastards, can’t piss straight when they’re sober, let alone with a skin full.” Granny emerged from the dunnies with bucket and mop in hand. “I’ve had a gutful, I’m a Master Brewer, not a cleaner!” She dropped the mop and bucket and marched off to the cellar.

“She has a point.” Observed Foodge, as the stench from the Gents overpowered all the aromas of spring, plus the tannery, which was saying something.

“I thought the new standuppery, plus the new tiles would get rid of that smell!” groaned Merv.

“Clearly we have a dilemma. How do we get the male patrons of the Pigs to micturate in a tidy and accurate manner?” Foodge thought himself clever for using a medical word (he’d read it in a Woman’s Weakly, but, wouldn’t admit it!).

“Buggered if I know.” Grumbled Merv. “Can’t piss straight meself.”

Foodge went into a meditative state, which lasted almost twenty seconds. “Perhaps there’s more to this odour than just urine on the floor, I mean, everything’s new in there, get’s mopped out daily, well, until today. There must be something else happening in there.”

“All of the facilities in the Gents are top notch, I should know, paid for ‘em meself, and installed them all meself, well, with the help of the Mondrian Brothers and some of the Angles, I mean, they had all the tools.”  Merv’s shoulders were now covered in fine, white flakes as he stood scratching his head.

Foodge felt compelled to ask the question. “Are the Mondrian Brothers or any of the Angles licensed plumbers?”

Merv looked uncomfortable. “Well, how hard can it be, I mean, you only need to know that shit doesn’t roll up hill?”

“So, I take that as an answer in the negative.” Foodge was on his stride, like his old days as a barrister.

Merv’s eyes glistened. “Will I lose the pub?”

“No, of course not, all we need to do is find a plumber who’s happy to overlook the shoddy workmanship.”  Foodge looked quite pleased with himself. “Come to think of it, O’Hoo comes from a long line of plumbers. He’s the black sheep of the family, couldn’t get into plumbing college, too much maths, so, became a copper instead!” Foodge had his mobile out, and was already dialling. “O’Hoo, old son, how the hell are you? Terrific, good, yes, yes, yes, yes, no, no, she didn’t. Well, can you meet me for a drink, yes, yes? Pigs Arms, yes, soon.” Foodge pocketed the phone just as O’Hoo crept up behind him.

“Guess who?” O’Hoo ejaculated.

“O’Hoo, of course, I’d recognise that droning voice anywhere.”

O’Hoo thought that this was the height of comedic wit, so, laughed until he was hoarse. Merv pushed a canoe across the bar. Foodge gave the lad time to drain his glass, stuff a day old sausage roll into his gaping pie hole and then reiterated the morning’s conversation.

“Mawder lork” mumbled O’Hoo, the second sausage roll sticking to his hard palate, which he rapidly dislodged with a half pint of Trotters Best. Odour Lock, did you install an odour lock?”

“What the f..” Mumbled Merv. “Odour Lock, what’s an odour lock?”

“It’s a valve that lets fluid through one way, but doesn’t allow gas, or fluid for that matter back out.” O’Hoo was eyeing off a third sausage roll. Clearly his intima, DCI Rouge was struggling to keep him on a diet. “It’s illegal to install a urinal without one. Used hep me Dad install ‘em when I was a kid.”

“Dja remember how to install ‘em” Pleaded Merv.

“Remember?” O’Hoo had decided against the third roll, instead was sinking a third schooner. “Easy peasy, piece of piss. Ha Ha Ha.” More wit from O’Hoo. “I’ll do it now.”  O’Hoo marched straight out of the bar, and walked a couple of blocks to Bunny’s Hardware, returning a few minutes later.

O’Hoo was able to access the offending pipes from the cellar, and install the valve using some of Granny’s kitchen tools. Twenty minutes later, the Gents was ready for its first stench free micturition, which, surprising to everyone, except O’Hoo was a success. In fact, O’Hoo now thought of himself as being flushed with success!

Ladies’ Lounge Renovations Finally Completed

10 Tuesday Aug 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay, Ladies Lounge

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Australia, humor, Pigs Arms

Meaningless Total Picture

Modelled on the Famous Spongobongo Ladies Lounge

Merv announced today the completion (finally) of the renovations for the Pig’s Arms Ladies Lounge.  He was quoted as saying “I’m looking to create a comfortable and safe – even ‘homey’ environment for the ladies of Inner West Cyberia to gather together and exchange pleasantries.

Use of beer mats will be mandatory.

And no cussin’ or spittin’ on the floor !”

Patrons are expecting a slight rise in the cost of pink drinks – in line with rises in the CPPI (Charge Pig’s Patrons Incredibly).

Merv is expecting to recover costs by Friday afternoon.

Rugby Player Not Charged Today

31 Saturday Jul 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Australia, humor, Pigs Arms, rubgy league

Tarquin Tough

In a shock announcement , Tarquin Tough, the new head of the NRL said that no player has been apprehended and charged by police today for:

  • Drunken and disorderly behaviour;
  • Possession of drugs (pharmaceutical or recreational);
  • Possession of a firearm, licensed or unlicensed;
  • Assault (common or sexual or aggravated);
  • Grievous bodily harm;
  • Possession of child pornography;
  • Rape (actual or attempted);
  • Murder;
  • Manslaughter;
  • Or showing up late for training.

Mr Tough said that several players were facing the judiciary for unspecified misdemeanours like sponsorship violations and the League was likely to impose heavy fines just to impress on fans how poor they are in comparison with their idols – the ridiculously overpaid buffoons with poor self discipline and bad attitudes towards women.

He then mumbled something about a minor ram raid on an ATM, and a holday home on the Gold  Coast.

Football journos are currently checking to see whether the season is on, or off or whether it’s April 1.  Bat Masterson of the Daily Telepathy was quoted as saying “Give them a fair go, it’s not even lunchtime yet”.

Glenda says Goodbye to Farrah Fawcett Majors.

23 Friday Jul 2010

Posted by Mark in Ladies Lounge

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Farrah, Oliva Newton-John, Pigs Arms, waxing

Yeah! Right!

By Madeleine

After closing, Glenda stood inside her quiet Pigs Legs Waxing and Beauty Salon staring at the poster of Farrah Fawcett Majors on the wall.  Her girls had left, and the closing night shone through the uncurtained windows giving an eerie glow to the hygenic tiles around the hair washing basins.

She sighed deeply and without knowing, picked up the razor, remembering the way she used to thin out the layers, Farrah-style.  There was a lot of servicing in Farrah hairsyle –  the cut, the layering, the colouring, the perm, and the big blow wave with the gel.

It was a good time, a big time, coming out of the au-naturale days of the early 70′s.  There was the Afro, the Olivia Newton-John Grease-style perm, the Bo-Derek plaits, but nothing was bigger than the Farrah.

Glenda had known about the anal cancer of course.  She’d talked about it several times a day since 2006.  Wherever the ladies were sitting Glenda was always on hand with a cuppa and a magazine – and six times out of ten, there was brave Farrah smiling from the pages.

Glenda hadn’t known she’d been holding her breath, but as she reached the moment of resignation it flowed, driving the lips of her lost-in-the-moment face into an unexpected pout.

A lift of her shoulders signalled intention, and with her new breath and life she walked over to the poster.  Carefully, reverently, she took it down.  She pulled off the bluetack that had been replaced several times, rolled it into a ball, and then lifted the razor to scrape off the final remains.

She stared at the poster one last time, remembering the time she wore her own hair Farrah-style – the night she kissed young Mervin.

“Goodbye Farrah” she said.  “I loved you.  And if I’d had your teeth, things would’ve been different.”

Glenda was sentimental, but practical.  She screwed up the poster, chucked it in the bin, drew the blinds, pulled on her coat, picked up her keys, downed the lights, took a last look around, blew out another goodbye, and shut the door.

She turned right and walked towards her car.  Then stopped, spun 180 degrees on her heels, walked back past her salon, and right into the Pigs Arm’s.  “Come in for a pink?” said Merv.  “Expected you tonight” he said in his one on one way.

She gave him a flick of her hair and a lips-sealed smile.  “Have Belinda bring it into the Ladies Lounge, Merv.”

Pig’s Arms Samurai Sudoku

22 Thursday Jul 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Pigs Arms, Samurai Sudoku

Most of the Pig’s Arms patrons have better things to do with their lives than fool around with Sudoku puzzles.  But just in case you feel the need to be part of a burgeoning urban commuting movement, here’s the Pig’s Arms “fit right in without having to break into intellectual panic” Sudoku.

Sushi level (Rated 4 Trotter’s Ales challenging) ……..

Samurai level ……. (Rated 3 Pink Drinks challenging)…….

And the Answer to last week’s Samurai Sudoku….

10. Ur, um, the end bit

19 Monday Jul 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

cricket, Father O'Way, humor, Pigs Arms, science fiction, Trotters Ale

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.]

Dear Aunt Mary – Hanky Panky

28 Monday Jun 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Ladies Lounge

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Aunt Mary, Hanky Panky, Pigs Arms

Dear Aunt Mary,

I friend of mine has a cold.  His partner comes on all sanctimonious about the use of a hanky to stifle sneezes and coughs – and even when he manages to whip one out in time, she is prone to roll down the windows of the car just in case.

I mean, if he dropped a fart, I suppose that would be appropriate behaviour, but a little “achoo” or “cough-cough” – surely that’s a bit over the top! Should he object?  Should he enclose his head in a humidicrib?  What?

Your nephew, Cy Nuss

Dear nephew,

I have to admit I find your letter curious, if not mildly disturbing. Your friend’s hanky etiquette is bad enough but the suggestion that your friend’s partner’s reaction was more apropos of a flatulence attack than a sneeze is preposterous as best.

Have you seen what goes on during a sneeze?  You do realize that the function of a sneeze is to expel mucus containing foreign particles or irritants and cleanse the nasal cavity. You do know that up to 40,000 mucus droplets are propelled at speeds of upwards of 160 kph during each and every sneeze. A sneeze may not be as odiferous as passed gas; but it is 10 times as dangerous to your health.

I do agree with you that by the time this semi-autonomous, convulsive expulsion of air from the lungs has traveled through the nose and mouth and been blasted shotgun-like across the interior of your vehicle it is already too late to roll down the window; but truly, what else is the poor woman to do? Is she expected to sit back meekly and offer a “god bless you” when every womanly instinct she has is telling her to throw open the door and leap to safety or slap you across your cheek and scream at you to cover your mouth? I would say that any civilized person would agree that the “rolling of the window” is a suitable substitute for these other, more natural, reactions.

One might expect you to know this already, Cy. One might expect that every child of Australia would already be well versed in all aspects of hanky etiquette; but clearly, in recent years, the advent of the tissue has lead to a steady decline in basic human civility. Perhaps only now, with our landfills overflowing with mucus-filled paper bombs, the world will finally bear witness to the hanky generation’s sense of sensibility.

All this is why is why I feel it is incumbent upon me to offer some suggestions for the proper execution of the common handkerchief during a sneeze or sneeze-like situation.

Always have a hanky handy. In particular be prepared while in confined spaces with other human beings. Some sneeze inducing situations you should be aware of include sudden exposure to bright light, a full stomach, high stress, spicy food, intense aromas and, of course, viral infection. Do note that if you are, in fact, driving a car having a hanky stuffed deep in your back pocket does not qualify as “at the ready.”

A hanky is not a prophylactic. Wrapping your digit in a hanky in order to shove it up your nose and dig around is never acceptable behaviour.

A hanky is not a trumpet. Never attempt to clear your nose in a public place by honking repeatedly into your hanky. Your mucus toots will never be the Brandenburg Concerto no matter how often you practice.

A hanky is not a work of art. Never. Ever. Open up your hanky to inspect the damage after a sneeze. It will never be Blue Poles so don’t even bother to check.

In fact, there is only one situation I am aware of where you can be in close proximity with another a human and not have to be concerned about the possibility of sneezing. That situation is while you are sound asleep. REM atonia is the only bodily state wherein motor neurons are not stimulated and reflex signals are not relayed to the brain so you and your partner as safe from a sneeze attack during this time. Then again, it is completely possible that external stimulants could cause you to wake up from your sleep and sneeze immediately upon waking so, here again, it is probably best to be prepared.

Finally, dear nephew Cy, there are a few things your “friend” could try the next time he finds himself at the wheel and does not want to abuse his partner with a mucus blast. Some simple preventative techniques include deep breathing to gently exhale the air his lungs would otherwise use for the act of sneezing. He could also try holding his breath and counting to ten or even crinkling his nose and keeping his eyes open.

However, should all this fail and your friend does accidentally let fly again in the presence of his partner; here is my suggestion:

Let her open the window. Apologize sincerely and then remind the partner that in Ancient Greece a sneeze was considered a favorable sign from the gods.  Your friend could then add that in many Asian cultures a sneeze means someone was talking about the sneezer. In China, Vietnam and Japan for instance, there is a superstition that if talking behind someone’s back causes the person being talked about to sneeze; as such, the sneezer can tell if something good is being said (one sneeze), something bad is being said (two sneezes in a row), even if someone is in love with them (three sneezes in a row).

Perhaps by offering a sampling of these fascinating facts your friend may be able to turn around the tenuous situation and make the whole disgusting episode seem somehow more acceptable. This may not be the perfect solution, dear nephew, but is far superior to making a comment like “Hey, at least I didn’t fart.”

Until next time, dear ones… nosce te ipsum.

Aunt Mary

Angels in the Retirement Home

22 Tuesday Jun 2010

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Angels, Pigs Arms, Rock music

FM and I saw / heard the Angels at a gig at Revesby Workers Club last year.

They rocked the house down  and are an excellent role model for growing old disgracefully !

Angels in 1976

Doc Neeson 2007

Is Vic Bitter over Trotters Ale

12 Saturday Jun 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Beer, Pigs Arms, Trotters Ale

Busy sampling Trotter’s Ale all day …. but then someone’s gotta do it..

Thumbing through Vic Bitter’s “Essential Guide to Beer Drinking, Australia – Vol 375” this article appeared in the chapter called “Boutique Brews” and reviews Trotters Ale – the beer that’s queer.

The Pigs Arms offers a unique experience with beer drinking. Brewed on the premises by the owner/publican “Merv”, Trotters Ale is a life changing experience.

I meet Merv who is a tall thin man with a pot belly wearing pink shorts and a t-shirt with “I didn’t see YOU in Vietnam 73” emblazoned on the front. Merv had black boots on with the words “Manne 1” on the right and “Manne 2” on the left written in white-out across the toes, how strange? Merv tells me Manne likes to have a kick around sometimes. On his arm he has a tattoo, a heart with the words “I love Blenda” curved around one side, when pressed Merv tells me he was dating Belinda but half way through getting the tattoo Belinda broke it off, so he started dating Glenda, “Had to have something there” he says. Some patrons are sitting in the courtyard around a wood oven, Merv informs me that they’re the “unleashed” and assures me they will speak about Trotters Ale.

A sign hangs over the bar that reads “If you order Trotters Ale leave your health insurance details with the barmaid”. I’m both puzzled and nervous. Belinda, the barmaid, pulls two glasses. She’s wearing a soggy sombrero and looks nervously at the window. The beer itself has a red glow and is served cold in a curvilinear glass. It has a small but notable vapour. My heart is racing. The glass is saying “drink me, drink me”. The ale has a unique aroma that is a cross between dead fish and the durian fruit. I take a deep sip. My mouth wants to cave in. In my head I hear a piercing scream of some wild creature in pain.

The mouthfeel is somewhat chewy and I was unsure as to whether I would live or die. I smile feebly however Merv is looking at me, grinning, “Bootiful idn’t it”. I try to drink more to impress Merv, I mean I’ve sampled thousands of beers this one wasn’t going to beat me. I feel as though some form of exchange is happening between me and the beer and Merv orders some wedges. Flashes of colour seem to be bouncing off the walls and the floor starts to shift. The wedges arrive and I eat some. “Their granny’s hot chilli” I’m told.  My chest is pounding now and waves of nausea are crashing over me. I’m swallowing the beer like nothing on earth. More wedges, yes more wedges.  The nausea starts to recede and my heart rate slows, the room returns to focus and I’m finished my drink. I’m starting to feel better but I’m incapable of speech. My lips move and the words “My round” stroll out of my mouth and across the bar and into Belinda’s ear. Two more beers are poured and we consume more wedges.

I’m feeling really good now, yeah, this is good beer. A peculiar smile appears on Merv’s face and he shows me into the courtyard where the “unleashed” are eating mushroom pizza’s and wedges. “This is Vic” Merv says “He wants to talk about Trotters”. I ask the group about what they think of Trotters Ale. A man called Emmjay says “Look old chap, the by-product of maltose, sacchyomyces and H2O is always welcome in my digestive tract”, hmmm, a scientist. The man next to him called Hung, thrusts out his glass and pleads “More?” Another, Warrigal, tells me “The’ beers are goo man, weawy goo”. The comments are coming now, the unleashed are off the hook. “Beware the DNA of Medea”, says atomou as his voice evaporates and his eyes narrow, “It’s okay but its not shiraz, anyone seen my chasseur? From Doncherry you know, cost a fortune” declares Gez, “You don’t think a stunning looking woman like me would drink beer do you?” replies Helvi, “I’m too busy cleaning up shit from child care” utters Glenda, “I think it illustrates that Lenin had a point in delivering the Goelro plan as part of the communist manifesto” states Voice. A voluptuous looking woman enters and sits next to Hung, it’s Tutu “Pink drinks for me, although since Merv has started putting tomato juice in the brew it’s good on a hot day”, tomato juice in beer, surely no one puts tomato juice in beer! The last one in the group is Jayell. I ask him about Trotter’s, “Well Yes, what a Wag, nah, not for me”

My phone rings, it’s Danny, “Hey Vic, I got you that ute”, ah yes Trotters Ale, very queer indeed. In the background I hear the faint sound of a guitar and a tune floats across the air just like rocks don’t, “Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay , Si, Si, Signora , My sister Belinda  She pissed out her window on top of my new sombrero”

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Patrons Posts

  • Better Quality Spam and Physical Spyware August 16, 2022
  • Elvis August 15, 2022
  • B Camel Sauce August 13, 2022
  • Vale Olivia Newton John August 9, 2022
  • Stash Wyslouch … or this is what happens when bluegrass descends into jazz August 7, 2022
  • Neil Young – On the Beach plus. August 5, 2022
  • The Future is Kong Foo Sing August 5, 2022
  • Unsuccessful Models Auditioning for Rodin’s Thinker August 4, 2022
  • In the Kitchen with Vivienne – 3 Special Occasions August 3, 2022

We've been hit...

  • 688,078 times

Blogroll

  • atomou the Greek philosopher and the ancient Greek stage
  • Crikey
  • Gerard & Helvi Oosterman
  • Hello World Walk along with Me
  • Hungs World
  • Lehan Winifred Ramsay
  • Neville Cole
  • Politics 101
  • Sandshoe
  • the political sword

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 374 other followers

Rooms athe Pigs Arms

The Old Stuff

  • RSS - Posts
  • RSS - Comments

Archives

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle
    • Join 374 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...