Roxy Horror Show!
NO-ONE in Leeton has a bad word to say about the Roxy Theatre………
Understandable. Because it is quite simply Australia’s premier example of a country Deco movie and entertainment palace……
Cr: Bidgee
HOWEVER, I have mixed feelings. For The Roxy will forever remain the site of my greatest teenage humiliation.
……On a stinking hot night in 1973, I grew up. Discovered that Leeton was NO Camelot. Found out that it harboured both kind and venomous souls.
This was a town known for having the greatest raffle ticket take up in the Southern Hemisphere. But, on that night 36 years ago, I learnt that that charitable spirit counted for nought for the wide-eyed couple in Roxy seats 6F and 7F.
It was me in 6F because Billie Fisher, the big-and-handsome-and-highly-sought-after-and-highly-up-himself Captain of Yanco Agricultural High School’s all-conquering University Shield Rugy League team, had unexpectedly asked me out.
To tell you the truth, I didn’t have strong feelings either way about Billie.
BUT, I did have very strong feelings about showing every prissy, trussed up sheila from the close-knit Rice Farm Set just who was Boss when it came to things you could NOT buy…..things like neat ankles, pert bums and charisma.
Initially, things in seats 6F and 7F couldn’t have been better. EVERYONE had seen KJ sashay into The Roxy with Big Billie and I was finding ‘The Godfather’ strangely comforting. An opportunity to reflect on how my town had thankfully avoided the excesses of multiculturalism being played out just down the road in Griffith.
……When all Hell broke loose.
From nowhere, a crazed woman with a Helmet Hair-Do had appeared, wedging her 90+ kilos between Leeton’s new glamour couple and the seats in front. Helmet Hair-Do was waving a powerful torch. After executing several precision circular ’fly pasts’, she beamed in one cm from my eyes, precipitating instant blindness followed by full-body disorientation.
By now, no-one in The Roxy could have cared less about a horse’s head ending up in someone’s bed. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZtyvlzVm7Y Instead, hundreds of locals were twisting their heads in grotesque fashion in an attempt to zoom in on the unfolding drama in Row F.
(Helmet Hair-Do) Can you confirm that you are the YOUNGEST of the five Ross girls..?
Yes, Helmet Hair-Do, I can……and please, can you please desist from speaking so loudly……?
Helmet Hair-Do (voice up a notch): Then I must ask you to leave. ’The Godfather’ is rated ‘R’. That’s ‘R’ for ‘Restricted’ under the brand new classification rules. What brings a lass (dressed up like a tart) and WELL under 18 here tonight, is NONE of my business. BUT NOW, PICK UP THAT EMPTY MARELLA JUBE PACKET AND FOLLOW ME…….
It was then that Big Billie swung into action, starting to make noises about whether there’d be a refund.
Now Billie Billie – You are brave and strong, you have NOTHING to prove. Please, PLEASE Billie, do what Helmet Hair-Do says…….Please?…….Pretty, pretty please….?
.……And As Billie And KJ Started To Go (with KJ’s clogs squeaking loudly because of stress-induced sweaty feet) she thought: Keep Your Pretty Head Low-oooo….AND Billie, Don’t Be A Hero…..DON’T Be A Fool With Your Life…For KJ KNOWS now, you have NO interest in ever making her your wife…….
On the footpath outside The Roxy, Billie said he needed a beer but wouldn’t be trying to get me into the pub. NO WAY….
He deposited his Date-With-Shame at her front gate. Didn’t even attempt to go the pash (very bad sign, very VERY bad….).
…….Inside, I threw myself into Gwennie’s arms.
She said to prepare myself for a rugged day at school on Monday.
They’ll all be tut tutting KJ…….they’ll ALL be enjoying themselves. THEN, some other poor bugger will disgrace themselves and their family and what happened tonight at The Roxy will be ancient history…..oh yes it will……..
Right and wrong Gwennie…..right and wrong……..
***********************************************************************************************
So…..Why, Why, WHY can country people be so cruel…..? Do you have a special site of personal humiliation? Can we learn anything from humiliation? Was Helmet Hair-Do picking on me or just doing her job (fat chance!)? Anything else…?
State-Of Nation: Do you love the way politics is getting very dirty (I do) or does the spectacle revolt you? My current reading: Godwin checking his Entitlments, Malcolm checking his Sense Of Entitlement and Pathological Tight Arse The Rev Kev, just feeling plain Entitled……
****THE GINGER MAN back in Australia……thank God!! You will NOT believe WHERE he is…..LATEST TGM ADVENTURE UNFOLDING IN COMMENTS SECTION………
Cr: riffraff1:flicker
******ALL commenters go for it!! Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!
Comment of the Week
June 29th, 2009 at 3:10 pm
On humiliation:
The scene is a country town…….
A young reporter clutching an 8lb notebook – full of details of DUI offences collated from that morning’s proceedings in The Court Of Petty Sessions – steps off the footpath.
He is dressed in a jazzy, continental-style suit which the local tailor has copied out of an international fashion magazine. The suit looks good but the young man must always be careful not to raise his arms because the stitching is fragile.
Our tailor has burnt himself out trying to copy a complex garment.
Meanwhile, the young journalist is a-walkin’, a-walkin’….thinkin’, a-thinkin’ of A Girl, THE girl who he’s been ringing regularly in (so far) vain attempts to secure a date.
The Beautiful Girl is from Wagga.
…….A car goes past slowly. THE Beautiful Girl is in the passenger seat and the smart vehicle is been driven by a MAN.
A projectile is thrown from the car and lands at the young reporter’s feet.
It is a stone with a note wrapped around it.
The note says: GET LOST!
Dear Chadwick,
On the Humiliation Scale this is right up there – a 9.5 in anybody’s language. From my experience, Wagga girls do tend to have tickets on themselves, they really do. KJ.
June 29th, 2009 at 3:18 pm
The Central West, New South Wales.
ORRREEEEEEWOOOOOOGEEEROOOWAH!
The Dr Whosit red phone box whizzed downward passing Michael Jackson going upward.
Hold on kids I told Festina and the Five Super Puppies and Fabina Foxie as we plummeted.
It was then I noted that we had another little passenger.
Fingo, half-fox-half dingo, had arrived en route to Earth and Fabina was giving the little critter a proud maternal lick.
She gave a little foxie sound to which Fingo replied:
AROOOO ch ch ch ch!
Smoke! Lightning! KABOOM!!!!!
ORRREEEEEEWOOOOOOGEEEROOOWAH…..
As the smoke dispersed, I discovered we were in a Ute outside the Fat Lamb Hotel.
The Five Super Puppies and their two companions took their place in the back as I parked the Ute close to the pub.
The drinkers turned their heads…
One chewing a piece of bark said: Bout time we went home, eh?
Nother said: Is it that Grant? Been all over the State trying to sell that Ute…..
Yet another said: Hey, they’ve brought the BLOODY RAIN!
Quickly the road was filled with big dancin’ men – laughin’, drinkin’, doin’ jigs to a mouth organ – as the rain spattered down makin’ holes in the dust like dollar coins. Then puddles, then a stream that ran over their boots makin’ them squelch for the first time in yonks.
They picked us all up and took us to an empty shopfront, kicked in the door and said: Here’s yer home, mates. What’s that thing there?
It’s a Fingo
Must be the product of Spontaneous Combustion said one of ‘em……
Do yer want this shop?
Yes.
Well, it’s yours. YOU BROUGHT THE BLOODY RAIN !
So, I took a piece of chalk and wrote on the dusty glass:
THE OLDE GINGER MAN CURIOSITY SHOPPE – Things for Sale.
Think we are going to like it here…..
June 29th, 2009 at 5:37 pm
Whilst the incident was never the talk of the town, I too have been frog-marched unceremoniously from the Roxy, due to my date (easy on the eye, fairly light on for grey matter) bursting into uncontrollable laughter during what was supposed to be a very affecting scene in the movie ‘The Day After’.
Anyone who has seen that picture (which concerns ‘the day after’ a nuclear attack) will testify that it is no Marx Brothers farce.
In fact, it is unrelentingly grim.
The incident was notable because – unlike on every other occasion that myself and/or my friends were piffed out of the Roxy – the deed was performed not by an usher but by the manager, ***** ****, himself.
And not only did he turf us, but he accompanied us all the way out through the front door and part way down Pine Avenue, giving us a piece of his mind about how feckless, brainless, lacking in respect etc etc we were.
Needless to say he worded my mother up as well.
Dear Roma Street,
Know who ya mean (***** ****) know who ya mean……!
My position is simple: The Roxy is a place where people of all ages can go AND for a couple of hours be released from worries about fruit fly and salinity.
Your good looking (but hardly Mensa material) date had the right to react to ‘The Day After’ as he saw fit. It was NOT the majority ‘reading’ but it was HIS.
I was once on the site of unexpected giggling EN MASSE in a regional cinema in South Australia. The film? ‘The Elephant Man’. KJ.
June 30th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Dear KJ,
I want to finally get rid of that enduring myth that country picture theatres provided the perfect venues for frustrated, unmarried couples to indulge their natural appetites.
Why on earth would a couple, occupying TWO seats separated by dangerous arm rests, ‘go the grope’ in a crowded cinema patrolled by the pious and the perving?
For Heaven’s sake, it’s not as if country folk don’t have the space to enjoy illict physical pursuits after their nights out in public….channel banks, unpatrolled aerodromes, football fields, empty churches. Need I go on?
When I went to The Roxy, I paid for a ticket and watched the picture.
And I bet you and Roma Street did likewise.
Dear Ex-Leetonite,
Controversial stuff!! Do you realise that if it IS accepted that country cinemas were (and are) places where people watch films, a whole body of Australian historical writing and oral history will be deemed a sham. Here’s just one oft-quoted example:
(Muriel) – Well, me and Bill fell in love just after the War.
He didn’t have a car so he walked 45 miles in 100-degree heat from his Dad’s small farm – to tell ya the truth, I really should say DUST BOWL – just to take me to the pictures.
To tell ya the truth, we didn’t take much of ‘em in. We was canoodling in the back row.
To tell ya the truth, I’ll never forget Bill’s strong hands. And where they went was no-one’s bloody business.
To tell ya the truth, our first, Warren, was conceived during ‘South Of The Border’. No regrets. I mean I’m a country girl.
If me and Bill hadn’t done it in the pictures, it would’ve had to have been in the back of his old man’s crutching pen.
To tell ya the truth, they were the days, they were the days…….
(Thanks Muriel. To tell ya the truth, it was great to spend time with you today. I’ll let ya know when it’ll be on ‘Hindsight’, Radio National. KJ)
June 30th, 2009 at 12:44 pm
Ex-L is quite right, from my experience anyway.
It is hard to get much accomplished on the canoodling side of things when you’ve got a frustrated Methodist housewife patrolling the aisles, just busting to shine a torch in your face and shout: SAVE IT FOR LATER!
Thank you Roma Street,
Then there are people called Thrill ******* (I believe) who fantasise constantly about patrolling Methodists with torches trying to catch them in intimate embrace. KJ.
June 30th, 2009 at 4:23 pm
KJ,
Going to the pictures was a Saturday afternoon ritual in the rural town I grew up in.
Our picture theatre definitely wasn’t classic art deco or classic anything else.
It did however sell the greatest orange fizz drinks and chocolate coated ice-creams with soggy cones.
One Saturday, after watching a double feature of Tarzan (B&W), I was too busy wasting my birthday money on eats to take time to visit the restrooms.
It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realised I just could NOT wait.
No public toilets.
Just the Catholic Church open for business – Confession time.
To this day I don’t know what came over me…….
There wasn’t exactly a long line up.
Into the left Confessional I crept and very quietly had a piddle on the kneeler’s cushion.
Yes, I did feel humiliated by my less than public actions.
No, I did not confess my most recent sin.
Yes, I did wait to see the expression on the next penitant’s face upon leaving the confessional box.
Yes, I’m very sorry now that I’m a lot older.
Dear Megsy,
Bless me Father for I have sinned….It’s been one week since I last used a public convenience and guess what…? KJ.
June 30th, 2009 at 4:31 pm
TGM at The Fat Lamb Hotel…
Do have one for me……a drink that is.
June 30th, 2009 at 6:15 pm
My Daughter Meg,
This is NOT a grave sin.
It is just a piddling matter……..
July 1st, 2009 at 12:12 pm
Hi Ya KJ,
Howya diddlin’?
Jeepers Creepers ……
Can I just say that it was in a small country town cinema that I had my first romantic experience.
It was love at first sight.
She wash-blond, blue-eyed and beautiful.
Even now I get a funny tingle down my spine (& elsewhere) just thinking about her.
Her name was Julie Andrews.
The film was The Sound of Music (recommended viewing for all workin’ families) and (don’t tell T)
I have seen it 49 times.
Even now when The Rev Kev’s feeling a little blue, he retreats to his den at The Lodge, puts the digitally remastered DVD into the machine, dims the lights, and well……….I just let Jules take me away.
And y’know what?
A spoonful of sugar really does help the medicine (and the Malcolm) go down…….
……in a most delightful way.
The Rev Kev,
And just WHO lent you ‘The Sound Of Music’ DVD?
Insiders tell me it was Wazza, owner of ‘The Celluloid Dream Machine’ video store in Ipswich who just also happened to run off 50 copies of ‘Your Rights At Work’ ads FOR FREE during the last election campaign.
*Mal’s team is ready to go with this BIG TIME next Parliamentary sittings. WATCH OUT!!!
July 1st, 2009 at 5:33 pm
I adore a dimmed hall so much so that as an extraordinary semester fades away like a bit of seaweed floating out to sea, I want to do something completely radical….
Like leave the office door wide open….run long corridors, climb stairwells, jump in and out of lifts and then after rolling along a couple of inclining ramps burst into that carpeted lecture hall where I last saw HIM and say: LOG ME ON BABY! into the security camera.
But I won’t.
I have to say that my research on this blog is coming up to a very exciting period.
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
My goodness….HOT STUFF!!
Know how you feel. As another extraordinary Financial Year ends like a Leeton peach riddled with dry rot dropping off a tree, I feel like running along the corridor and lurching into my line manager’s office screaming: LOG ME OFF BABY, LOG ME OFF!!!
But I won’t.
Because it would be immature and inappropriate……..KJ.
July 1st, 2009 at 6:33 pm
(For Chadwick)
Wherever You Are,
Divorced And Alone,
I Cannot Forget You,
Still Got The Stone.
Been to Wagga…..
Put An Ad in The ‘Tiser,
I’m Still Good Lookin’,
And Much, Much Wiser……
July 1st, 2009 at 7:18 pm
What are ya sellin’ TGM?
Pockets FULL of dreams…..?
July 1st, 2009 at 11:20 pm
Oh my God…….
I just had my Dad and cousin and cousin’s boyfriend here for dinner of roast lamb (I know it’s not the best season for lamb but can’t be helped) and I ACCIDENTLY NEARLY POISONED THEM.
I put the pewter roast carving plate in the oven to warm it but as (I was stoned I) forgot that it had four tiny rubber feet on the bottom and it melted into the oven and the potatoes were impregnated and possibly my family all has cancer.
Of course, I had to serve it up or I would’ve been in disgrace.
I won’t buy into this nostalgia about cinemas. Here at the front line of multiculturalism we have more important things to worry about……
Dear Greek and loving it,
You’ve just GOTTA ring your guests and ask them how they’re feeling. If anyone says they feel a bit ‘rubbery’ you must tell all and make sure they present to Casualty.
AND you must promise yourself NOT to get high when you’re cooking.
Sometimes I just don’t know what makes some people tick……..KJ
July 2nd, 2009 at 8:56 am
Greek and loving it you disappoint me.
In Ancient Rome poisoning your entire family was considered a perfectly socially acceptable activity.
In fact NOT poisoning your family was considered downright odd.
You Greeks are going soft.
Salve!
Sigismundus.
Dear Mr sigismundus dominus mathematiucus lunatas,
Now, you’re just being nostalgic! KJ.
July 2nd, 2009 at 9:04 am
Greek and loving it,
There’s NOTHING wrong with a trip down the pleasant memory lane populated by country cinemas.
Let’s face it, no-one’s going to get hurt – and it’s LEGAL!
- Roma Street, are you of the vintage when you can remember The Roxy Lounge (left side of the front entrance behind the ticket box) being open for refreshments? Far too young, I suspect.
Piss Elegant!
(The original deco lounges are still there but not much else…)
July 2nd, 2009 at 9:10 am
Dear Greek and loving it,
If you need to leave town quickly, I believe the Fat Lamb Hotel is looking for a cook.
TGM can put you in touch.
A reference from him would be worth its weight in gold, no doubt.
Good luck.
July 2nd, 2009 at 11:46 am
Ex-L – for most of my movie-going career the Roxy Lounge had little useful purpose other than to serve as a place for cold and/or over-anxious parents to sit while waiting to pick up their kids.
Most parents made do with sitting in the car or (Hello, Mum) making their kids walk home, but there would generally be 3 or 4 antsy mums waiting in the foyer when we spilled out, waiting to catch their kids engaged in illicit hand-holding or even kissing.
However, the Lounge did burst into life for up-scale occasions like the ‘film nights’ that used to be hosted by the editor of the Irrigator when a movie – with ’social relevance’ or half-a-dozen Oscar nominations – came to town.
A serious threat to Cannes these nights certainly were not – a dozen or so wives of bank managers, County Council officials and solicitors (accompanied by a few resentful, tweed-jacketed husbands) having a glass of domestic bubbly and then proceeding upstairs (of course) to watch Sophie’s Choice or Out Of Africa.
The only time I ever set foot in the Lounge myself was at the after-party for a school production.
This was a very select soiree – speaking parts only, no chorus members – and the shire president himself was in attendance.
Ah Roma Street, what powers of observation….You’re dead right…..
Tweed jacket + Leeton farmer + fundraiser + plus glass with stem = Much Unhappiness. KJ.
July 2nd, 2009 at 2:09 pm
Came downstairs as An Act Of Courage.
Saw the post about Greek and loving it possibly being on a manslaughter charge.
Scary.
Know how Wally Mellish must have felt: I’M NOT COMING OUT!!!
July 2nd, 2009 at 2:16 pm
****THE FAT LAMB HOTEL****
He brought the rain! It’s my shout!
Lean and as strong as his bluey out there on the back of his Ute, the farmer insisted on offering me a drink.
You probably never heard of it. Absinthe!
Aspirins!That’s bout all we got round here if yer get crook.
He eyed me with bush savvy.
Oh, ye mean absinthe, the French stuff that can send ya blind. Hey Aero git over here, NOW!
(Aeroplane Jim was so called because – after a tractor mishap – he was left permanently stiff-necked looking eternally upwards at the sky.
He was also known as One Lobe Jim, because of the effects of his home made spirit he made to self-medicate).
Got any of the stuff?
Aeroplane Jim produced a large bottle of greenish liquid. Could it be? It was!
When water was added it turned the colour of mother’s milk. I took a cautious sip.
ORRREEEEEEWOOOOOOGEEEROOOWAH
For a moment I thought I was back in that blasted red phone box of Dr Whosit.
Good stuff, mate….
We use it sometimes to prevent blowfly strike or to get the diesel primed.
Did ya sleep okay?
I couldn’t for the sound of the bloody lucerne growing.
What are you going to sell in your shop?
I thought for a moment.
What about raincoats?
July 2nd, 2009 at 3:22 pm
Oh boy.
No ill effects reported from relatives as yet. Might have got away with it….
My family has incredible genes.
If you live on a small island with nothing to eat but goats and herbs for several hundred years with only an orthodox priest for medical advice – AND no one is mad enough to come and live there to dilute the gene pool – you are left with a superhuman breed.
Anyone with the smallest weakness..even an ingrown toenail did not survive into the next generation.
Now for the washing up from last night.
July 2nd, 2009 at 3:47 pm
Griffith sounds an interesting town…..
Dear Greek and loving it……It is, it is! There are so many persons of interest there it’s NOT funny. KJ.
July 2nd, 2009 at 4:29 pm
Dear Greek and loving it,
I’ve baked a chook with the plastic giblets bag still in.
Best meal a woman’s ever had.
No need to eat for a week afterwards.
Just don’t know how those drug smuggling condom eaters go.
Dear Megsy,
Forget the chook! I’ve just plonked a plastic bag of giblets in the oven. Should be my last meal for at least two weeks. KJ.
July 3rd, 2009 at 6:23 am
Amore, Amore KJ,
You can be Fabio’s Diane Keaton, Talina Shire? Why they cast these lovely ladies in eeny Godfather movies when they can have THE KJ? I to talk to Mr Coppola. He not a close cobber but I I think he know of Mr The Rev Kevin.
I say these words to him: Francis, you make more movie about those sick Corleones? Marlon is gone to God an I better lookin than Al Pacino. Robert Di Niro is good bloke but bizy. So think wise. Me Fabio an KJ of Leeton make you very rich at office box.
KJ, I see the pikture of Roxy Cinema. Nice eh!
Tell Mr The Rev Kevin that I watch The Sound of Music an I love Julie Andrew singing so nice. If he watch 14 time he can go to Video Ezy and get other film.
Why does our Mr The Rev Kevin go on The Rove TV with that Bruno? That Bruno say stuff en then larf at own joke – Mr Kevin dont wanna suck Bruno toe in bath. Kevin dont want to adopt kids with Bruno. I dont think so. NO.
Billie Fisher is gone?
Lovely to KJ, Fingo (cute) an all cobbers,
(An Mr Ginger Man be extra careful in Fatso Lamb Pub and Greek and loving it why you so stupid with your lamb?)
Fabio.
Dear Mr Fabio,
Yes, YES, YES. Would love to work with you……you and me on the red carpet outside The Roxy – all the way up Pine Ave……stretching as far as Trunk Road 80. I see it now……oh I do Fabio, I do….
Must go to work now (on the bus). KJ.
July 3rd, 2009 at 7:13 am
Dear Meg,
I tell my co-workers some of the things you report….
They remain poker-faced – just not groovy like you and my confidente/ KJ.
I nearly pissed myself laughing when you confessed what you did on that cushion! (Rarely do I engage in abuse of the English language, but this, surely is an exception!!!).
You say that you feel sorry about your actions. Meg, it sounds to me that you need to exorcise yourself of residual guilt.
Get DOUBT on DVD. Watch Sister Aloysius in a carthartic mood: I have DOUBTS, I have DOUBTS…..
Meg, you are absolved. What you did was a trickle compared to atrocities committed by others who show no remorse.
July 3rd, 2009 at 2:36 pm
****THE FAT LAMB HOTEL****
(Marvel at The Fat Lamb: http://www.eugowra.aus.net/fatlamb.htm)
Fingo is an early bloomer..
He caught his first rabbit today, and dumped it on the bar room floor. An hour later he was back with six rats and a dead moggie.
The locals have agreed that the district needs a top predator.
Aeroplane Jim is keeping us posted on clouds in the sky. He’s permanently on target.
Haven’t seen roads like this since Afghanistan….
These people do have a vote, don’t they? Apparently not enough. Eighty per cent Micks here and a few nice Freemasons.
All drinkers. Good blokes.
No swearing unless you include strewth, blimey, bloody, byjingo, hooroo, and similar words found only in the Macquarie.
A hailstorm early this morning. Aero Jim warned us.
POW!!
A big hole in the shopfront roof. A bucket under it. Now we have a bathroom.
A big game outside The Fat Lamb using the stones as cricket balls.
The Super Puppies chased them with proud Mum Festina (nee Brekkie) and Fabina the Fox, and Fingo (chewing on an antique) watching.
At the highway turnoff the men have put up a sign:
THE FAT LAMB FESTIVAL
COME AND SEE FINGO, THE WORLD’S FIRST FOXIE DINGO
ADMISSION FREE
The local economy needs a boost.
July 3rd, 2009 at 2:46 pm
I told the men Michael Jackson is dead.
They said:
Of course he is. He kicked a field goal for Eugowra in 1933. His brother’s still alive though.
July 4th, 2009 at 7:03 am
Dear The Ginger Man,
A belated Congratulations on the arrival of Foxie Dingo Fingo. Much, MORE more exciting than the current craze for crossing this ThisDoodle with ThatDoodle.
Niceties over. TGM HELP!
Fingo is indeed an early bloomer…..one rabbit, six rats, one moggie.
Get it right – I am not a Hollywood serial adoptee.
Nope just an ordinary citizen whose intention was to SAVE YOGI. Yep, there was his pic, placed strategically on a Community Board. Cute.
And Oh Hell – pic was accompanied with words to the effect that Yogi would shortly be joining The King Of Pop, should some sucker NOT……
TGM, Yogi is ratters. To date, his score is ZERO. In fact, worse.
He shows MATERNAL instincts towards the traditional enemies.
I now live in a menagerie…….
And I fear I have Post-Natal depression? I do not feel like giving the little fella ‘proud maternal licks’ as does Fabina.
Marvellous, NOT SO BLOODY MARVELLOUS!!!!!!!
Heeeeeeeelp,
Boo Boo.
Welcome Boo Boo…..welcome. What is this craze you speak of for ‘crossing ThisDoodle With ThatDoodle?’ Do I have to join a club? Do I have to enrol in something? Do I have to do Crossing Doodle Workshops? Whatever it takes Boo, whatever it takes……KJ.
July 4th, 2009 at 11:41 am
Time to let you in on my life, particularly since we’ve got a loose ‘humiliation’ theme going.
Many years ago, I made it widely known that I’d be having drinks at my place for my birthday.
Three people turned up. Two co-workers, one accompanied by his mother.
It was a very bad and NOT very late night.
Dear Red Knuckle,
Thank you for being Man enough to let us in…….
Why, oh why, does God let unreasonable things happen to reasonable people? This will go down as one of history’s most INSIGNIFICANT birthdays. KJ.
July 4th, 2009 at 10:41 pm
THE FAT LAMB HOTEL
Dear Boo Boo,
Welcome and congratulations! You have now been honoured with The Fingo Award which shall be presented to you by Stan Lee and Spider-Man when they visit Australia.
This canine parenting is not for sissies!
Every mass murderer has a Mum at home knitting his socks and balaclava.
Festina (nee Brekkie) is like that. She glows over every Super Puppie crime. Master Clippy Claws is the worst villain.
So is Fabina, the Fox who Mated with a Dingo.
Fingo can do no wrong.
The shire president came for an overnight stay at the Fat Lamb Hotel and Fingo ate (and digested) his pyjamas without even a burp.
What does life hold for me?
I have thought about writing The Fabina Dialogues.
July 4th, 2009 at 11:44 pm
Sorry, my very dear Cardinal,
Perhaps we do not go to Hell….
But we fly with all of the birds,
To escape from those words
And also Bloody Church Bells……..
July 5th, 2009 at 9:07 am
Dear TGM,
‘The Fabina Dialogues’ WILL premiere at The Roxy.
As part of the celebrations, we will all travel to Leeton to attend your ‘The Fabina Dialogues’ Fat Lamb Writing Workshops.
The Premiere will be HUGE. Readers for ‘The Fabina Dialogues’ will include The Big Lebowski, The Rev Kev, Nathan Rees, Cardinal Pell and local sporting greats.
Roma Street (it’s time we gave something back to our town) SO will you help me cater for the occasion in the Roxy Lounge?
(I’m thinking ALL local produce – Murrami sushi, feed-lot beef infused with lamb and 44 gallon drums of compote).
Dear Ex-Leetonite,
Brilliant! BUT we CANNOT have the premiere on Saturday night if Leeton-Whitton Crows boys will be reading from ‘The Fabina Dialogues’. Are you NOT aware that their season is hanging in the balance? A man can hardly be performing ‘The Fabina Dialogues’ one moment and playing pointy-end-of-the-season football the very next day. No, he can’t……..KJ.
July 5th, 2009 at 10:48 am
No he carnt.
Dead right. KJ.
July 5th, 2009 at 12:20 pm
All we are saying is……give Fabinas a chance…..
July 5th, 2009 at 2:02 pm
Dear KJ,
This craze for crossing ‘ThisDoodle With ThatDoodle’ is similar to the Middle/Upper class obsession with producing perfect progeny. This expensive tampering with chaos theory involves a trip to the sperm bank. Order up donor – Brad Pitt looks, Einstein IQ, NO criminal history, earning potential to rival that of Mr Souris …
Risky business. Some punters do end up with the offspring of the likes of Ivan Milat.
As it goes with Criss/Crossing Doodles in the Doggie World. Genetic engineering. For example, attempting to cross a Poodle with a Labrador may see you at the vet carrying a Sheep/Dog called DollyDoDah.
Nope, KJ, NO workshop required – just blatant stupidity/vanity.
Boo Boo.
Thank you Boo Boo. I won’t be crossing Doodles. Ever. KJ.
July 5th, 2009 at 5:26 pm
……God has made the Dingo and The Fox and this should NOT be interfered with, against Natural Law.
A member of Opus Dei has been monitoring the sermons of priests on the topic of Fingo, a creature which denies Natural Law and is the product of scientists tinkering with genetic structure.
On the matter of The Fabina, the hearts of all true Catholics go out to all female parts all over Australia.
No Catholic in good conscience should attend ‘The Fabina Dialogues’ in the Roxy Theatre, Leeton – Diocese of Wagga Wagga.
I have invited The Ginger Man to bring all the animals concerned to the Sydney Archdiocese Headquarters where we have a long-standing rat problem.
They can be assured of a caring, secure environment which will assist us in coping with the holy burden of celibacy.
July 5th, 2009 at 9:43 pm
The Fat Lamb Hotel
Help!
They have now brought home Sparky the Sparrow (live).
Dear The Ginger Man,
Would I be right to assume that you’ve left the derelict shopfront in favour of The Fat Lamb Hotel? KJ.