Tag Archives: Sandy O’Way

11.7 Sandy Goes Back to Space

09 Thursday Dec 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

Church of the Holy Bail – by Warrigal Mirriyuula

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

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

The card is carried by a Oneker

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

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

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

A female Automaticus Tellertorian

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

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

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

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

“Thanks be to Gordon” I reply

“And with you” says the Bish.

11.5 Sandy Goes to Malice Brings

29 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 35 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

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

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

FOW: So Aunt Well what’s happening?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sandy O’Way, Malice Brings.

11.4 Life is a Volcano

22 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

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

Posted by in Mark

≈ 42 Comments

Tags

, , ,

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!

8.2 Pigs In Space

28 Sunday Mar 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

, , ,

Warning: This picture has been Warrigalised

Sandy here. Had a strange dream last night. Belinda and I had some curried scallop pies washed down with some creamy apple cider so I think that’s what brought it on. Yes, well, I dreamt I was in a canoe on a lake in Africa with my mate Evil Car Knee Ville. Knee Ville and I were fishing. Anyway we started drinking beer, eating boiled eggs and smoking this strange substance from a pipe. So I cast out and along comes this magnificent looking fish and the fish says “Hey mate, got anything to eat, I’m hungry?” “I’ve got some bait if your interested, fish are supposed to love it” I reply in a casual semi-interested sort of tone. “Hmmm” says the fish “is there a catch, no pun intended?” “Well yes” I reply rather hesitantly  “See I attach the bait to this hook. When you bite it the hook pierces your palate causing terrible pain and suffering. Then we haul you ashore, cut you up into little pieces, pan fry and eat you along with chips and lemon juice and salt.” “I don’t think I like that idea much” says the fish and leaves. “Hey Knee Ville , did you see that fish I almost caught?” “Sandy, that’s the oldest line in the book and by the way that’s Hemingway with one M” says Knee Ville. Then I wake up thinking about baked beans on toast, weird.

Helvi hasn’t been able to establish eye contact with me since my body altered however she is doing her best to help us understand the morphing process that has taken place. The village bio is much bigger as a garrison has been added and so an auto-pilot electric car is needed to get me to the Bats Droppings for a few Trotters, I mean you wouldn’t what to drink and drive would you, I mean that would be really bad and only evil dickheads would do that. The farm bio is now run by Mr and Mrs Douglas with their farm hand Eb. We also have a snowfield/chalet bio for holidays, a tropical island bio for Jilligan, who by the way, lives out there alone now the Kipper was killed. We now also have an outback station bio. The pics on the computer of it look great.

I ring Gordon, you know Gordon O’Donnell the creator of the universe. Gordon currently on Earth in the Pigs Arms drinking Trotters Ale all day every day as he does. “Gordon, Sandy here how the zark are you?” I press knowing it’s always good to get on the front foot with Gordon. “Bloody good mate, it’s all good” answers Gordon in an unusually good Australian accent “Now Sandy old boy” he continues “I believe you hit a POTHOLE, nasty things, will have to get onto the Council, anyway glad you rang mate, want you to head to Missen, the score in the first innings must be between 320 and 350, got that, it MUST be” asserts Gordon. “Gordon how can anyone head to missing?” I ask rather naively knowing I won’t like the answer. “No Missen, it’s a planet that orbits Capricorn in the Andromeda Galaxy, Neville will know the way, it’s only a couple of million light years away. You must get there before the rodent, you know he will zark the whole thing up, you know bribes, kids overboard. This is a very important part of my thesis.”

“On the subject of your thesis Gordon, what is it you are actually studying, I mean it’s not the cricket is it?” I barge in rather hot under the collar. “This is war Sandy” Gordon replies “And war is hell, and hell is beans Sandy, baked beans on toast. Forget this low glycemic index crap or the high fibre bullshit, this is about beans, baked beans and how they rule life the universe and everything” Gordon voice tapers to a final whisper, a man possessed by some demonic spirit or just really pissed on Trotters Ale, this has become scary stuff. “So why has the score in the first inning got to be between 320 and 350 Gordon?” I wade in foolishly. “Well Sandy, that’s the estimated number of beans in a 420 gram can of course!…..”

7.3 Epilogue – Space, the Final Front Ear

07 Sunday Mar 2010

Posted by in Mark

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

, , ,

It seems that on a visit to Earth sometime around the millennium Shane Warne had sex with an unknown woman in a public lavatory. Now before you think even less of Warne, it was she who forced herself upon the spin star on this ocassion, not the other way round.

Digital War and Peace Explanation and Pic by Warrigal Mirriyuula – continues……

Warney was shagged to within a micron of his soul case. He was left battered and bruised and none the wiser; but it was always that way post coitaly for Warne.

To cut to the chase, the woman was a grotesque witch with a skin condition and the love child of that improbable union was a small pug dog whom the Sith elevated to Darth Turd.

Knowing that no-one would look at a dwarf dog and take it seriously, Darth Turd asked his Mum to turn him into a human. Unfortunately the DNA that codes for height was faulty and the pug swapped being a dwarf dog for being a dwarf human. Apparently a lot of other DNA didn’t work either.

—–ooooo—–

Here is an announcement from the ICCB president Sunil Gavitron straight off the wire.

“Greetings to all. I am pleased to announce that at 1400 hrs yesterday the rebel ship the S.S. Julian was destroyed by the ICCB Death Ball II.  The ship was annihilated, I said annihilated, annihilated, killing all that sail on her, er, um, him. This brings an end to those treacherous rebels commandeered by Lord Climate D’Change otherwise known as Father Sandy O’Way.

All rogue planets, please take note that your fees are due by the end of the month, no excuses now, otherwise the Death Ball will give you a call.

Now it’s come to my attention that there has been some excessive sledging going on. In no way does the ICCB condone sledging, unless you win. Any worlds that commence warfare from sledging will have there fees doubled. You are not allowed to have any physical contact with your opponent during the game especially if you lose.

To parents please ensure your child has sun block, extra water, thermo-nuclear blocking agents and laser cannons available if the need arises, oh, and yes, can you make sure that the home side supplies the oranges. These items are necessary in the modern cricket world.

Now no grumbling please when you lose the toss and are sent in on a sticky wicket. Remember they have to bat on it too and for every run you have on the board is a run that they have to get. Those worlds that have an atmosphere full of cyanide then please ensure that all players are given the right breathing apparatus and those worlds under water I suggest you put more weight in the ball.

I would also like to introduce our new chief of staff Lord John ‘The Rodent’ Howard who has been appointed following an extensive process to take over from the unfortunate death of Lord Deaf Vision. I expect you all to welcome Lord Rodent to his new role of overseeing the ICCB’s galactic program. I’m sure Lord Rodent will bring everyone together as a team, just like he did in his previous role.

Cricket will survive, cricket will rule, cricket will dominate the universe, let me stress, dominate, dominate, dominate……”

[Authors note: And so ends the tale of the space hero Father Sandy O’Way or does it? Don’t touch the dial, stay tuned….]