Email to:School Formal Turns Ugly For Riverina Girl
I still wish I didn’t go to the school formal that night…..
But you would’ve too – if you’d been in my position.
I’m looking at one* special letter from long ago. (*I have hundreds but don’t worry all you other boys, you will be quoted at later dates, you most surely will……)
My special letter reads:
Dear Kerrie Jean,
I know it’s late but I’m asking you to the Yanco Agricultural High School Formal because I know no-one else has.
Dear Mr Flatterer,
Lots of boys have already asked me but I DON’T know who they are. When I get upset about this, Gwennie says that some idiot’s been nicking our mail. So - because of this terrible situation - I guess I will at least have to start the evening with you. KJ.
And so you find me on a bus delivering an order of exactly 40 girls for exactly 40 YAHS boys. A terrible 10 kilometre journey. Soooooo dangerous. It’s a wonder anyone arrives alive considering the explosive quantities of hair spray, perfume (not cheap, middling) and sisterly spirit in the air.
So….you DID eventually get invited KJ? Who? When? WHY?
Meanwhile, our bus driver, Des (Leeton Redlegs hero, VFL recruit) has his own challenges: trying to park and stop 40 desperate, marauding University Shield (rugby league) champions storming his vehicle.
Get away from the bloody bus. THEY’LL be out soon. Haven’t ya seen a girl before….?
Soon enough, girls are pouring out of Des’s Chariot Of Romance. Falling into arms of beaus. Think 1945 - troop carrier berthing. Much lunging, tongueing, ear nibbling, bum tweaking, tie pulling…
Not KJ though. Just off to the side of the bus she’s plonked on the grass, shaking. Des and The Flatterer are in attendance:
You all right KJ? You all right? What the Bloody Hell Happened?
What the Bloody Hell Happened was that KJ caught her (height – nine-inches, diameter – too small to measure) heel in a grate over a drain. Broke off. Went arse over head.
Mr Flattery does what any Man would do.
Yanks me up, yanks me – in my stockinged feet - into the Hall Of Romance and yanks me onto the dance floor where something VERY confronting is underway: Yanco Agricultural High School’s Annual Mass Pashathon. (They Shoot Pashers Don’t They?)
Young men and women are pushing their pashing capabilities to the limit. Tongue fights break out, teeth are displaced, girls’ faces morph into those of eighty-year-olds as emergency suction strategies fail. But still they will not, CANNOT stop.
Mr Flattery gives me NO warning that we are about to enter the competition. One second I’m thinking: How disgusting is this? And the next, a big contorted face is coming straight at me.
But Mr Flattery’s not good enough for competitive pashing – nowhere near……
The Last Thing I Saw (cr: timballas:flickr)
His nerves are getting the better of him. He’s bungling his approach.
At great speed, he’s lodged his teeth FIRMLY into my upper lip. He’s panicking. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. He bites down - HARD.
I am stumbling (in my stockinged feet) out of the Mass Pash.
Mr Flattery is trying to stem the flow of blood with his hankie. In shock, I am feeling my way to the bathroom. I am grabbing roll after roll of toilet paper to stem the blood flow.
The first eliminee from They Shoot Pashers Don’t They? arrives huffing and puffing, obviously miffed.
Shane CAN’T do the triple tongue twist with the love bite pike, he just CAAAAN’T. Shit, what’s happened to you KJ?
(Remove six-inch thick toilet paper wad) FAR OUT, FAR OUT!! (Eliminee quickly leaves, bangs door).
Meanwhile, my cut lip is getting bigger and bigger and bigger and more and more and more painful…..
I am returning to the Mash Pash with a lip wedged firmly under my nose.
Mr Flattery is shocked. NO WAY! NO WAY! (And believe me, there’s no way he’s going to see his biggest night of the year out with the biggest lip of the century).
I am outside stumbling to a bench where I sit looking up - through my lip - at the November night sky.
A sky that only the Riverina can bung on - cloudless with a million stars dropping by: Everything all right here KJ?
My friends the stars, I should have stayed at home with Gwennie for I have been Lipped….
Give us a little look KJ……
I pointed face squarely to the wide sky.
Oh, oh, oh….poor KJ, we’ve shone on millions of school formals but we’ve never seen anything like this. By the way, what WILL Gwennie say?
Gwennie said:
Oh sweetie, sweetheart….
But - the reality is - what could we expect, what could we expect? After all, those boys’ parents are all Country Party voters, they ALL vote Country Party…..what could we expect?
* WARNING: We are all on high BIG LIP alert tomorrow – Melbourne Cup Day.
You’ve got NO idea how many people present to Emergency Departments with big (and getting bigger) lips. They’ve all bitten down hard on their own lips in the final stages of the race.
Just being aware of the possibility is the first step to prevention.
***************************************************
***THE GINGER MAN***
cr: siansparkles:flickr
TGM is off again! He’s heading in my favourite direction, RIVERINA bound! Off to The Chief Monk’s spiritual seat, the Monasterie Al Gundagai.
Lord Ginge is in a contemplative mood – he gets like this sometimes – don’t we all?
The Ginger Man’s new ’The Riverina Girl Chronicles’ will unfold (as usual) in our comments section.
For folks new to kerriejean.com….just recline and enjoy the TGM journey. He’s our Passion-Aggressive resident adventurer who’s come to us (Thank God!) via Bletchley Park and Trinity College. His entourage includes The Chief Monk and the good and kind Try Do.
Trust me – you’ll love TGM. I know I do!
************************************************************
So, a big week all round in kerriejean.com
* Looking forward to hearing from you – life does go on and our comments section is testament to that. Have you had to retire from love because of injury? Why can’t boys kiss straight? Do you enjoy office Melbourne Cup parties or just turn up because you’re a crawler? What’s happening (or not happening) around at your place?
*Congratulations to the new posters of late who’ve come in here and immediately felt very at home.
******ALL correspondents just take a deep breath and 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 URL thingo – just ignore it.
Prawn Cutlet Award
November 2nd, 2009 at 8:21 am
Lost and and still in love in Wauchope……
Yet another eastern seaboard adventure.
Help me here darlin it’s soundin like a good old fashioned twelve bars already.
I am lost with the juxtaposition of war and hope,
That’s what it is like in these burbs.
I can see eight backyards from my backdoor.
I can hear five odd shaped dogs barking @ nothing.
I can hear four inyaface Friday night shitfights.
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
My rented carpet has humidity dogged into it.
Nothing looming catastrophic fire wouldn’t fix.
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
There’s 25 trains a day until you get used to it.
There’s karaoke aplenty two doors up all weekend.
I can play as long and as bad and as loud as I want.
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
Bassstraitswell – on seaboard patrol.
PS: Eat your heart out The Ginger Man – just as much fun can be had on board.
Dear Mr Bassstraitswell,
Welcome!
What a wonderful way to start our new thread thingo….
So….you are LOST in Wauchope but STILL in love.
From where I sit, that’s not too bad, NOT too bad at all…..
Usually, I’m FOUND in Leeton, ALL OUTTA LOVE…..
Advice?
Keep your teeth well away from your lips.
If anyone’s in potential self-inflicted BIG LIP danger, it’s you!
Every best wish. KJ.
November 2nd, 2009 at 8:47 am
EN ROUTE TO THE AL GUNDAGAI MONASTERIE VIA LEETON
(The Chief Monk…..)
Lord Ginge very quite.
All way back to Al Gundagai Monasterie on Wounded Dick hairplane he saith nothing. Nosireebobtruedat.
Last, I saith.
I worried bout yo Lord Ginge. Yo need de lubbin like dat Mister Retch.
Grech!
Yo need de lubbin, Lord Ginge.
And so do you, my dear Chief Monk.
Ah is spinnin fra de Lub.
Well, it is about time ‘lub’ found you!
What yo mean, Lord Ginge?
Riverina Girls.
Ribberinas? With ribbons?
Yes. It so happens that at this time in Leeton, on the Riverina, cocoons burst open, butterflles and moths emerge. There are graduation balls, formals, parties, dances, rock festivals, moonlight drives to Leeton’s only hill. The acacias are in bloom, the air is scented with romance. Young girls want to be driven to the levee.
What ef dat levee am dry?
No matter. A levee is a levee…..
Lub? True dat? Ribberine gals?
Truckloads, busloads, wheelbarrow loads, cartloads, Chevvy at Levvy loads. It is the time when Leeton Hairdressers make enough money to pay for an overseas vacation. Look, Monk Man, there are white cockatoos in the air. We must be getting close.
Lord Ginge, dere’s KJ’s house on de corner!
Yes, and the street is filled with young girls. Chief Monk, this visit is going to make all of the difference to you.
Can I spin fra dem, Lord Ginge?
You bet your life, Chief Monk.
To be continued.
November 2nd, 2009 at 8:56 am
Can I just say?
You know what?
I make absolutely no apology for putting Old Smirky on the board of the Future Fund.
Absolutely no apology.
Absolutely NO apology…..
Yes, some people have pointed out that Smirks is a member of the Liberal party….
Really? I had no Idea. The same people claim that I’m a member of the Labor party – Really, I find that very hard to believe.
For it is written in the great Book of Kevs:
Suffer the poor unemployed Libs to come unto me and I shall give them succour, comfort and cushy jobs.
And you know what?
I make absolutely NO apology for that…..
*I recommend everyone try saying the last sentence aloud – VERY empowering.
Gog less Oz (especially the Libs)
Dear The Rev Kev,
You’re amazing, AMAZING!
Word around the traps is that you’ve already whispered in Wilson Tuckey’s ear: ‘Big one coming up in the Commonwealth Patents Office, BIG ONE!
AND, your last hint: AMAZING!
I’ve been walking around my flat all morning: ‘I’m getting my roots done later on for a Melbourne Cup luncheon and I make absolutely NO apology for that, I’m getting my roots done later on for a Melbourne Cup luncheon and I make absolutely NO apology for that….’
You have a good day too, KJ.
November 2nd, 2009 at 10:43 am
So let’s all welcome and give a shout,
For our new friend, Bassstraitswell.
Who writes and sings so very well.
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
Is surely rising through the charts.
Plays deep down in our hearts.
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
Play it well in the key of G….
Lost and still in love in Wauchope
Sing it now, friend, for you and me….
Lost and still in love in Wauchope.
For silk stockings on the doorknob.
Gone.
November 2nd, 2009 at 12:55 pm
Dear TGM,
Odd that you didn’t swing by Flemington….
But Wagga does has a gallops meeting tomorrow.
Any Cup tips from The Chief Monk?
November 2nd, 2009 at 2:47 pm
Yo MissMegsyMeatTrayJusJokin!
No 17: Spin Around.
YESSIREETRUEBOBDAT!!!
November 2nd, 2009 at 6:42 pm
How about Harris Tweed for the old Bletchley boy?
Good Luck The Chief Monk.
ISTAKAREEMICEYCREAMALCOPOP?
Keep spinnin’.
November 2nd, 2009 at 7:29 pm
Dearest KJ,
As you know I am in charge of the canapes for our office Melbourne Cup do.
I have created some salmon/asparagus vol-au-vents as well. Nervy.
All that done, WHAT TO WEAR?
Tonight, I shall embellish my hat. I’m basing my ‘look’ on what I’ve seen of Megan Gale – just how does she keep an elipse stuck onto her head?
And then where can I hire an escort at late notice……I know KJ, I know … NOT on this site.
I AM A WINNER. I MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO APOLOGY FOR THAT!
Marry Me.
Dear, dear Marry Me,
I’ve just placed you on Grade 10 Lip Alert – my highest category.
YOU ARE A STAYER – AND I MAKE NO ABSOLUTELY NO APOLOGY FOR SAYING THAT, NONE AT ALL……KJ.
November 2nd, 2009 at 7:39 pm
Sea Change
Tree Change
Name Change
Sex Change
Colour change
Weather Change
Got any change?
Apologies to The Big L and Bassstraitswell. ( I’m working on metaphysical poets at the mo….)
Fanny.
November 3rd, 2009 at 8:53 am
I wonder if these problems still plague the lives of the cream of Leeton High’s young womanhood now that the ’soapies’ have their own girls?
Ponder that as you watch Crime Scene – Number 8 – (blinkers on) ping straight to the front today and lead them a merry dance all the way to the judge.
Dear Roma Street,
Good question! I won’t pretend to have the answer but I do know that when YAHS turned co-ed I did breathe a sigh of relief AND so did Leeton’s only specialist lip stitching triage nurse.
Crime Scene for the Cup, eh? He’s a rank outsider but, BUT just a small outlay – and a WIN – represents enough botox for at least three weeks. And that’s MORE than enough hope for me!
Thank you. KJ.
November 3rd, 2009 at 9:23 am
Crawler’s Confession: Melbourne Cup Day at the office is my favourite eight hours of the year.
I run the sweepstakes (am doing so right now…)
I take over the staff kitchen and eat all the smoked salmon before anyone else can get a look in.
Five minutes after the end of the race, I say loudly: Well, wasn’t that fun. Now, I’ll clean up and it’s back to work…..
*If we go out for a Cup lunch, I tote up the bill – with calculator – to make sure staff only pay exactly for what they ordered.
TC.
The Crawler,
Isn’t life amazing? I think I work with you! KJ.
November 3rd, 2009 at 9:35 am
As our bus travelled the streets of lovely Leeton they were lined with lovely girls in their best Cup outfits, their hair fresh from refurbishing, their spiked heels poking from plastic bags, and their amateur attempts at makeup positively charming.
There are three boys from Knox Grammar on the bus heading for Gundagai, and the Chief Monk has persuaded them to attend his Male Spin Boy Finishing School so that they’ll be adequate escorts at coming formals.
They are….Knoxie 1, Knoxie 2 and Knoxie 3.
Knoxie: This is pretty exciting, what?
Knoxie Knoxie: It is exciting, EXCITING…..
Knoxie Knoxie Knoxie: No, it is exciting, exciting, EXCITING…..
The Chief Monk: Now yo remember, Knoxie, Knoxie Knoxie, and Knoxie, Knoxie, Knoxie dere be no use of de TEEF when dancing or spinnin. Ef any teef shown den TIGGER shows HIS.
Tigger: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrror.
To be continued.
November 3rd, 2009 at 9:43 am
My first kiss lasted all the way from Mount Kosciusko to Canberra. I was bruised for days, but I kept looking in the bathroom mirror.
So proud, so darned proud…….
Dear Chadwick,
My first kiss lasted all the way from Ganmain to Yanco.
I was so ashamed, SO ashamed.
KJ.
November 3rd, 2009 at 11:04 am
Hi KJ,
I’m beginning to see signs of much needed leadership among your bloggers.
Your friend Mr Crawler is correct in saying immediately after The Race: Now I’ll clean up and it’s back to work.
In the Rev Kev’s office I’m giving all my staff 10 minutes off to enjoy the race and I make absolutely no apology for that.
Have fun,
(in moderation).
The Rev Alcopop Kev.
Dear The Rev Kev,
I wish you’d come in here earlier with your advice.
Unfortunately, reports of sporadic outbursts of IMMODERATE fun are already coming in from Flemington.
I’m off to a private Cup Luncheon which promises to bridge the MODERATE/IMMODERATE divide.
That’s, of course, if I can find a summer dress which still fits me.
It’s been a DEVASTATING morning of ‘trying on this, trying on that……’
Lowest point? Having to take to the scissors in a frantic state and cut my favourite little designer number right off me.
Oh dear, it was touch and go there for a moment.
How long can a girl survive without breathing? Precisely 2mins 47secs.
CUT! Thank God!
KJ.
November 3rd, 2009 at 3:18 pm
Al Gundagai Monasterie incorporating The Chief Monk’s Male Spin Boys’ Finishing School.
Lesson 1:
Hokay you gennmun goes ta de Fair Lady and sez:
MayIhevdeplaisureobdenextdanceMizMeatTrayjesjokin?
She say: Yesirreebobtruedat.
Den, yo bothe SPIN!
In the meantime genmun, first practis approachin ta Fair Lady: do yo homework:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S45OJnQp6mI&feature=related
To be continued.
November 3rd, 2009 at 4:55 pm
Came downstairs as an Act Of Courage.
Shocking result (heard on trannie under doona). THEN followed by Crime Scene…….
The Cup made me jumpy.
Back upstairs to the doona – minus trannie.
Dearest old Knuckle,
The nation doesn’t really stop for the Cup. Just you….KJ.
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:28 pm
Hi, I am Under the Table Top Man.
Cup news has obscured announcement of my appointment to The Rev Kev’s team.
I am now UTTM Thermometer Man.
The only way is UP.
I can tell you that under table temps are rising (just ask Angela Merkin).
When they peak Thermometer Man will report.. and there will be a Double Dissolution.
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:41 pm
Riverina Girl,
Who’s kissing?
Do you know what
You’re Missing?
Turn around,
Turn around,
Riverina Girl.
November 3rd, 2009 at 9:11 pm
For a little while I was a distilled whisky (by-the-barrel) sales chick, for Ricado……..
Then, I became Ricado’s whore – who hit me on the jaw and left a scar and beat me more because I talk too much, out of turn.
Later, a high class tart, who became Ko’s mistress, in HK which is an absolutely thrilling and super place – so down to earth, and real: sooooooooooo refreshing. I lived in a penthouse and on Ko’s yacht.
I left just before The Cousins came swooping low searchlights blazing and Fawn, from the open chopper door, shot Ko dead with a high velocity rifle. Then Tui – on the beach.
Then Gerry – my truest love ever – just where the waves embrace on a China Sea beach.
I was way over the other side of the island hitching a ride back to the mainland with a middle-class man and his wife from Leeming.
Old Craw is no help and The Rocker – a foul, smelly, distasteful man – wants to arrest me.
My dreams and illusions are failing fast… ‘I am like the ophan,’ Gerry says.
He loves me…and I love him.
Oh! Christ!
Christ All Bloody Mighty.
I don’t want a reply…except from Gerry.
lizzie worthington.
Dear Miss Worthington,
A warm welcome to kerriejean.com……
You will have a reply, you WILL. Frankly, all my years in the business I haven’t come across anybody in such desperate NEED of one….
DO NOT BE AFRAID……
There are hundreds of women in here who’ve made hundreds of mistakes but have gone on to live GOOD lives. Oh yes, they’ve all picked the WRONG men, gone to the WRONG places, worn bubble skirts which they thought were right but were WRONG, WRONG, WRONG….downed triple bacardis and coke singles on the grounds of sophistication (SO WRONG!)…..and so on…..
I suspect keenly that you want to live a GOOD life.
Please keep me across ALL developments so I can advise you of whether you’ve (at least) got a one-in-a-hundred chance of achieving it.
I don’t know what makes some people tick….. KJ.
November 4th, 2009 at 5:26 am
Dear Knuckle,
I believe Avoidance Therapy is a cruel concoction of crazed capitalistic Cognitive Behaviour Therapists (CBT) designed precisely to have people go into dangerous places like supermarkets, corner stores, department store sales, parks, cinemas, backyards, frontyards…….
BUT, there’s NO conning the old Knuckle….
I salute you.
The Comer.
November 4th, 2009 at 8:05 am
Urgent Memo to NSW TAB:
Next Cup Day, PLEASE make available more official ‘punters’ assistants’ in your facilities.
Something terrible happened yesterday.
I was at a Cup luncheon. Just before THE race, I got out my four three-dollar mystery trifectas:
RACE 1: MUSSELLBROOK
This should NOT have happened – it COULD have been averted.
The fact that I NEARLY got the big one in Mussellbrook (two out of three numbers) didn’t help.
A little bit of RESPECT wouldn’t go astray!
KJ.
November 4th, 2009 at 9:57 am
Dear MissLizzieMeatTrayjesjokin,
I is in a spin fra Yo.
Please git down here to Al Gundagai ta teach de fellas how ta TREAT A LADY and ta spin wiv Yoos Trooly.
Lizziegirl, yo promise to be True?
YESSIREEETRUEBOBDAT!
November 4th, 2009 at 11:42 am
I am working on a Merkinometer.
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/11/04/2732815.htm?section=justin
November 4th, 2009 at 12:52 pm
My dear friend KJ,
I have failed you – I was NOT worthy of that Grade 10 Lip Alert – your highest category.
Following Cup Day, I can assure you I’m in NO danger at all.
In the interests of accuracy, please downgrade your Marry Me Lip Alert to Grade ZERO.
Next year….next year?
Marry Me.
Dear Marry Me,
After much thought, I have decided to keep my Grade 10 Marry Me Lip Alert in place. Sweetheart, I really feel things are about to change for you. And when they do I want adequate safeguards in place. So Grade 10 Marry Me Lip Alert it is until you hear otherwise. KJ.
November 4th, 2009 at 2:42 pm
The school formal has been a success.
A development has been that the principal, Miss Montrose-Stiffington-Skidmarks, a mature woman, has fallen for The Chief Monk.
Normally a staid, indeed prim lady, heavily constrained in her emotions, she went to pieces on the dance floor as the Monk went through his spinning routine.
He looks so lonely out there…..I’ll wait for the Ladies Choice, and do something about that….
A description of their meeting during the evening defies description.
May I just say that it is the first time I have seen The Pride of Erin danced to a Spin technique………
Miss-Montrose-Stiffington-Skidmarks:
Oooooooh, this makes me quite giddy. I am glad to have a warm, strong, muscular arm for support.
Oooooh!
There was such a transformation in her.
In a short space of time, The Chief Monk had been adopted into her conversation with her friends.
WE might be going to Dervishstan next year…
Of course, Mr Monk is very particular about how he has his tea…Gooodness, I just laughed and laughed…
He is such a character, and I am learning Dervish…Yessmadametruedat!
But I told him, Monkie my pet, those SOCKS WILL HAVE TO GO! Did you know that he revolves at the same speed as a vinyl record?
He is SO SCIENTIFIC.
Of course, we need to have our own time together….for reflection as he is deeply religious…Suffi you know.
The Chief Monk?
He was very silent. Somebody had taken control.
Perhaps it was about time………..
To be continued.
November 4th, 2009 at 4:41 pm
Miss Monty Rose Stiffington-Skidmarks Is In Love
I hear the acacia trees whisp’rin’ above,
Miss MontyRose, MontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks is in love.
The ole white cockatoo sqwarking above,
Miss MontyRose, MontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks is in love….
Does my darling feel what I feel,
When he comes near?
My heart beats so joyfully,
You’d think he could hear.
Wish I knew if he knew what I’m dreaming of……
Miss MontyRose, MontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks is in love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7BQRGXFLJs
November 4th, 2009 at 5:13 pm
…humph….Oh Dear, been down in the archives…..just dust myself off a bit here. (Sigh)
Right.
A little constructive criticism of young students the other day for NOT participating enough in public intellectual life surely WILL have an effect. Mmmmmmm an interesting email. NOW, they’ll get their little butts and bells organised, will they ever!
They’ll learn that a protest takes more than an email and a listserv situation.
They’ll learn that is banner is a very difficult shape object to carry for more than a block!
……And then there’s the crowds of media that attend such events. There’s statements, remarks, grabbers or whatever it is.
You have to be prepared with water in a flask, rice biscuits and press releases that say something in the first line.
We’ll see. (Sigh)
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
I didn’t know you were big in The Moratorium. Me too! The memories, the memories…
Like when I used to shout: What do I want? A date. When do I want it? NOW! Bring the Riverina Boys Home, Bring The Riverina Boys Home!
Peace. KJ.
November 4th, 2009 at 5:25 pm
I didn’t go to any formals. Or, for that matter, any informals either.
But, I remember my eighteenth birthday.
It was a mess.
My secretly virgin boyfriend really ‘came out’. (How was I to know?)
He gets up looking like he’s ready to deliver a loving speech and WHAMMO proceeds to confess that the reason he couldn’t get it up last night was that he’d never done it before.
All the spinach pie and tirimasu I wasted on him – it’s not funny.
My family was almost dumbstruck.
Dear Greek and loving it,
Quite the contrary! Your boyfriend was a HERO. He was telling the world that he was NOT perfect but was prepared to try very hard to make you feel loved and attractive.
* Are there any transcripts from his wedding breakfast? And now the groom would like to say a few well-chosen words……..
KJ.
November 5th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Moonlight walks under the acacias…….
Feeding each other in The Big Spaghetti. A bottle of wine and Patsy Clyne.
The chevvy to the levee……..
Strangely enough, the Chief Monk has ceased spinning!
When love walks in, and takes you for a spin:
Ooo la la la, c’est magnifique!
They are oh so young, oh, so young!
Fingo and the Five Super Puppies and Kev the Kanga seem a bit miffed.
Tigger, however, has taken it all in his stride and is walking with The Chief Monk and Miss MontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks.
They’ll have no fear of footpads with Tigger by their side.
No doubt about Leeton, when Love strikes it goes straight to the heart.
Observing love is fascinating albeit with some tinges.
To be continued.
November 5th, 2009 at 6:47 pm
KJ and Lord Ginge,
Could you please ease up on all this lovey dovey material?
It is making me feel queasy if not devastated.
Dear The Dude,
Sorry we can do nothing. The Chief Monk and Miss Monty Rose Stiffington-Skidmarks are impervious. Currently, they are feeding each other like Riverina parrots. KJ.
November 6th, 2009 at 5:01 am
I say to Lord Ginge. Yo was right – I got de lubbin.
He very quite. I worried bout Lord Ginge.
I askin him.
Does yo member lubbin?
Yes.
Is yo memry clear bout dat?
Yes.
What year was that?
It was this year, this particular year…..
(He now hummin’…….)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AQzSdcqjRg
I worried bout Lord Ginge.
Must go now as me hab de DATE wiv MizMeatTrayjesjokinMontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks
To be continued.
November 6th, 2009 at 7:50 am
Dear Miss KJ,
Carnt help thinking your site is missing a few good men. And I think I know why, if my trip to the Cup was anything to go by – Flemington was full of young p****s
- financial advisors and media types – in pink suits and fake tans.
Where are the Real Men?
I found the answer on the obit pages – Unfortunately, most of them are dead.
…..R.I.P Shaun Wylie: one of the elite group of cryptanalysts who broke the German Enigma cipher at Bletchley Park during WW2. (source: London Telegraph.)
He was a Hut 8 man.
Post War, among many things, he compiled crosswords for The Listener under the nom-de-plume ‘Petti’ (Wyliecoat being an Old Scottish term for petticoat, which I think you know).
With Wylie sadly passed on, I think your The Ginger Man is probably the last hope.
Sadly Yours,
The Old Carnt.
PS: Greek and loving it’s tale of how her boyfriend turned out to be batting for the other side is typical of what Australia’s women folk are up against these days.
Dear The Old Carnt,
Yes, we are ALL so privileged to still have our precious The Ginger Man running around for us, cracking NO less than the Codes Of Life.
Sad to hear that Flemington just didn’t do it for you this year. Know how it is. One year I found myself in the WRONG tent in the WRONG tent dress! Just couldn’t wait to get out of both!
Regards to the old crew, KJ.
November 6th, 2009 at 1:39 pm
Thank you Old Carnt.
‘Wiley’ Wiley was a real character. I could never beat him at bridge or chess. And what a hockey player! He refused to take the Nazi Youth Drug we purloined, so it is surprising he reached such a grand age.
He loved the Greek poet Aeschylus, so I quote him in memory of the GOM.
What is poverty?
Surely it is the least of
Our ailments
For it may be cured
By the simple act
Of a friend.
You can take the boy out of Bletchley, but not Bletchley out of the boy.
At the moment I am trying to do a genetic decode on eyebrows (Colonel Oliver North, comedian Steve Martin, NBS newsreader Steve Lawrence, former Opposition Leader Brendan Nelson).
All have eyebrows that proceed at a forty-five degree angle to the centre, thus giving the wearer a disarming expression.
I am trying to determine whether this is learned eyebrow management or a natural phenomenon.
Wish Wyle was here to help.
November 6th, 2009 at 3:21 pm
TGM,
MY eyebrows are known all over the village for their angled character. It’s natural – be damned!
Dear and loving it,
Because of my permanently startled state, my eyebrows finally disappeared right to the back of my head in May, this year. KJ.
November 6th, 2009 at 4:08 pm
I agree with Mr Dude. Could we lay off the lubbin for a while?
ENOUGH of the young and fleshless.
Being a constructive type – I’ll kick off a list of alternative subjects:
The last thirty days of Rome.
A reporter’s reflection on an administration’s anxiety.
The large number of bipartisan moderates in contemporary Australian workplaces.
This was what it was like at today’s bloody lunchtime meeting prior to our proposed industrial action. There has to be a further planning and a ‘we mustn’t forget to register our dispute’ meeting (that’s tomorrow!).
Anyway how’s a senior lecherer (joke, JOKE) supposed to get down to creating knowledge with this fringe fella in charge? YES, I loved him but no more, no more. Do not speak of love, only ……. it’s so vivid, so vivid.
Other suggestions please…..
Dear Lonely Scholar,
Yes, I have a suggestion – PROMISE YOURSELF THIS: I WILL NEVER AGAIN FALL IN LOVE WITH THE BOSS.
It is most unseemly, PARTICULARLY on strike days.
There’s you, picking up your bag and proudly walking out. And there’s the love object, THE Boss, going nowhere. Quite the contrary. He’s busy on the phone, organising scab labour.
Ask yourself this: Is this the sort of tawdry tableau which will lead to happiness, IS IT?
PS: Nearly forgot! As a veteran reporter I MUST ask you: What’s the bloody dispute about?
KJ.
November 6th, 2009 at 7:12 pm
Size.
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
Well er…….good luck with your industrial dispute over….er…….size.
You postmodernists! What a zany bunch of class warriors…….KJ.
November 6th, 2009 at 8:15 pm
I feel pretty, oh so pretty.
And I pity any girl who’s not me today.
November 6th, 2009 at 8:18 pm
Who’s that girl in the mirror there?
Who can that pretty girl be?
November 7th, 2009 at 4:50 am
Let’s Dance The Night Away……
I have been talking to the Knoxie Boys about their future careers……..
Knoxie said he intended to go into Parliament like his father, Sir Edward Knoxie:
We always shoulder our responsibility to be wealth creators, and then to engage in governance.
Knoxie Knoxie said he would read Law, like his Queen’s Counsel father, now on the High Court:
A lot of people think the Law is about Justice but really it is about maintaining Order so that the machinery of society functions without spanners, like the Charter of Rights, being thrown into the works.
…….It’s a pleasure to have a scotch with my learned friends after the clients have been told to accept what the Law says. Knoxie is the perfect place to prepare for higher learning, and a proper place in the nation’s leadership. These Leeton girls are fun to entertain, but could you imagine marrying one? There’s still a whiff of the Cannery about some of them, though some can – I admit – play the piano.
Knoxie Knoxie Knoxie said he would like to manage a rock band or become a stand-up comedian or run a late night television show.
We are seeing a Renaissance of Humour. The other night I heard a compere say: It’s Herpes Week – pass it on! I mean, how funny is that? I cracked up.
Some of the Knoxies have considered a military career at the Royal Military College, Duntroon, with a wedding under crossed swords at St John’s Anglican Church, Canberra, but they have decided to wait until the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan have ceased.
I wonder what will happen when they share their ambitions with the Riverina Girls?
To be continued.
November 7th, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Let’s Dance The Night Away…..
Tell me about Bletchley (said Try Do)
I try do (I said)
I was surprised because it was the first original sentence that Try Do had said.
We had paused during the Valeta.
Try Do was exalted after the Barn Dance where many handsome farm boys had flirted with her.
Perhaps that was the reason for her persistence.
Try Do, get out a video of ‘The Great Escape’, ‘The Dam Busters’ or ‘The Malta Story’. Can you imagine what it was like then?
I Try Do.
Well, Do Try.
Girls pretty then?
As always.
Women love men or try do?
Both try do.
They Try Do too?
Yes, they try do. You have a good time tonight?
I Try Do.
To be continued.
November 8th, 2009 at 10:21 am
Dear The Chief Monk and The Ginger Man,
Reading the ‘Riverina Girl Chronicles’ (crimson and clover, over and over) has left me with a feeling of hope!
While The Dude and The Lonely Scholar demonstrate DEEP personal fears by appeals for ‘less lubbin’ I feel safe and energised – by tales of exceptional lubbin’ by two exceptional men……crimson and clover, lubbin’ over and over.
With restored hope, I continue my own journey. Truebobdat!
Marry Me.
November 8th, 2009 at 12:56 pm
As the acacias cast their shadows and the white cockatoos fluttered to their rest I reflected upon what had happened….
Love had come to the Chief Monk and Miss MontyRose Stiffington-Skidmarks.
Try Do was still trying.
What then of Love? When the kissing had to stop?
What when all that remains is a silk umbrella left hanging from a doorknob?
Does the Devil move in? Is evil a force, or really just an absence of Love?
I wish all Lovers well. Make the most of it.
I must go now. A man has just come in carrying a cleft stick.
Sometimes I feel I am in a cleft stick.
It is time to move on………
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTGjbKc-YOQ&feature=fvw
THE END.
*Brand new The Ginger Man chronicle begins in my next post.