No Retreat + Does My Bum Look Big In This Flag?
*Australia Day baring down on us all. Here’s what I wrote last year: STILL valid except my flag used to just cover my bum. 2010? Fat chance!
http://www.kerriejean.com.au/2009/01/does-my-bum-look-big-in-this-flag/#more-1984
****************************************************************************
*Latest story.
Last night I dreamed I went to ‘Overdale’ again……
(cr: Kurt Cheistensen: flickr)
It is 1972.
While the nation grooves along to ‘It’s Time’, the nuns at St Francis College are hand picking twelve 15-year-old girls who it is deemed will benefit from a two-day retreat at the crucifix-adapted homestead ‘Overdale’ near Wagga.
The twelve? Nine girls who like boys very much and aren’t afraid to show it. Two who show an interest in and it is hoped soon will grow to LOVE a nun’s lifestyle and….me.
I have been identified as Passive Resistant. Ghandi in a hitched up uniform. Hangin’ around school wavin’ a big mascara wand and a six pack of lippie:
‘Don’t come near me Sister. Swear ta God, if ya do you’ll end up lookin’ like you should be sellin’ fairy floss at the Leeton Show….’
The ‘Overdale’ retreat rules are simple. No talking. Minimal eating*. In a brazen act, Gwennie has made a false cardboard bottom in my case. I’ve got enough fruit tingles* to survive 30 Lents back-to-back.
All day, I walk around the grounds of ’Overdale’ CONTEMPLATING how great it’s gonna be next year - when I get to Leeton High.
It’s time for freedom,
It’s time for moving, It’s time to begin,
Yes It’s time It’s time Australia,
It’s time for moving, It’s time for proving,
Yes It’s time….
*Retreat SWAT nun suddenly appears. Code Red. A SONGSTRESS!
SWAT sister’s yanking me from the chook yard by the ear, other hand firmly across my mouth. Then her face (Jesus would say: NOT ugly just different) close in to mine. Mouth is opening and closing like the Gogeldrie Weir floodgates, mouthing: YOU. THINK. YOU’RE. SMART. DON’T. YOU……?
I mouth back: NO0000000000NOooooooNO0000000000000000.
Penalty: Four hours in the ‘Overdale’ kitchen with the retreat catering team.
Three nuns – combined age 307 - not ugly just different, especially when they’re mouthing: ZUU-KIII-NI.
That night, after a silent tea of what’s in John Ford movies called ‘grits’ there’s a special retreat treat - the priest in charge of youth for the Wagga Wagga Diocese is TALKING to us.
In he comes: Bleached hair, a bundle of Billings (’mucus watch’) Family Planning Within The Sacrament Of Marriage pamphlets and the biggest smirk this side of Grong Grong (very hard to mouth, you try it….).
This is what he said:
So girls if you get married and you’ve already had dirty, sinful sex what are you going to make your wedding night special: PICK UP THE PHONE, RING ROOM SERVICE AND ORDER ICECREAM…?
* I have ordered room service icecream in hotels, pensions and dachas throughout the world and found the results fulfilling.
W eventually get out of ‘ Overdale’ and resume talking. Sharon has thought long and hard about how to be the first girl in Leeton to get her bum around a pair of Levis, Cathie’s determined she HAS crossed the line into heavy petting (beat that!) and Frances now knows for sure that God IS calling her….to a rice farm at Murrumi?, the Novitiate at Wagga?, The Rural Bank? Best just to let the School Certificate results sort it out, that what Mum says…….
So what of Father Cornetto, Father Vincent Kieran Kiss?
Well, he ingratiated himself around Melbourne social circles. Hit the big time when he was summonsed to Venice (1990) to officiate at the wedding of Miss Primrose ‘Pitty Pat’ Dunlop and Qantas steward Prince Lorenzo Montesini, also Count Of The Phanaar, Baron Alexandroff. No go. The Prince ran off with the best man.
Father Cornetto is also no stranger to jail. His first stint was for embezzlement. The second? Abusing teenage boys.
Goodnight.
So…..over to you. What’s the scene in your patch? Perhaps you’re thinking of Taking A Vow of Silence – and boring everyone s******** with the ins and outs thereof. Anyway – all report backs are (goes without sayin’) valid and welcome. Congratulations and thanks to our recent new posters. Always a joyous occasion when someone takes a deep breath and honours us with a comment.
*BARLOWE PI: LOVE ME OR LEETON!
(cr: Dave-F: flickr)
One of THE palookas of The Murrumbigee Irrigation Area Without Water, Barlowe PI, is still workin’ the hardest beat in Australia – Ardlethan, Moombooldool, Ariah Park, Mirrool, all the way down to Griffith and Leeton.
Mister Barlowe aint the sorta guy to muck with but we all got our faults. (Excuse me, why I slip into somethun’ a little more comfortable….?)
‘Love Me Or Leeton’ all this week in our comments section.
All posters take a deep breath…..and 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.
Comment of the Week
January 25th, 2010 at 9:20 am
Joye, joye, joye!
Lord Ginge back in Al Gundagai, where he find Five Super Puppies on de Tucker Boxe.
He lookin younger, yesirreebob. He bin retreatin…?
* He not talkin’ much.
January 25th, 2010 at 10:53 am
Came downstairs as An Act Of Courage….
My dog died on Australia Day a couple of years ago.
Feel like tearing down the Opera House and building a big statue of her…….
Back to the man-eatin’ doona.
Dear Mr Knuckle,
Not to be disrespectful or anything, but did you wrap her in a flag? KJ.
January 25th, 2010 at 11:03 am
No, in a blanket covered with Q’ran inscriptions, taken from Gulf Airways.
January 25th, 2010 at 11:05 am
You got to help me, Mister Barlowe. You got to help me….
The word why was about to leave my lips like cigarette smoke, but instead I asked him how it was he came to me in my dingy office in Leeton, above Art’s Bar and Grill, as the neon sign outside proclaims.
Mr Parkinson, the solicitor, sent me.
Parkinson? He hates my guts. I tend to agree with him.
You got to help me Mr Barlowe. As a philanthropist I cannot afford scandal.
Who is the dame?
There is always a dame. Ask any shamus worth his salt. Dames belong to scandal like bullets belong to my biretta.
It’s a long story, Mister Barlowe.
I’m listening, but it will cost you buddy. This is not ten cents a dance.
TO BE CONTINUED
January 25th, 2010 at 11:26 am
Dear KJ,
I’m SICK, SICK, SICK.
Sick of Australians who take a sickie the day BEFORE Australia Day.
I dunno if you’ve been out and about today – at 9 a.m the streets were as empty as an Opposition promise. It was quite evident to me that most Australians were at home asleep on what should be a normal working day. (It’s this sort of behaviour that drove me out of the Catholic Church)
Are you and I the only Australians working today KJ?
Don’t people realise that work is good for them?
Work is fun.
Incidentally, there are a few positions going in my office (again) – this being an election year – only hard workers and team players need a apply.
God Help Australia,
The Rev Kev.
Dear The Rev Kev,
First things first…..congrats on being ‘The Australian’s’ Australian Of The Year. Apparently, your Highly Stimulatin’ Package swung it your way…….
On the issues you raised re a population in denial about January 25th, 2010, being a scheduled working day, I can only agree….afterall, contemporary workplaces are built on trust and without TRUST, we all fall down.
I too have been out and about – fake tans, fake doctors’ certificates….I think I even saw one of my colleagues on a fake pair of crutches.
*Currently, echoing straight across the harbour is Jimmy Barnes in sound check mode for a big Australia Day do, tomorrow. He’s belting out ‘Crying Shame’. Quite…….
KJ.
*Latebreaking support for The Rev Kev’s position:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/01/25/2800641.htm
January 25th, 2010 at 11:41 am
Find the dame.
It should be step one in the PI Training Manual.
It turns out that this sucker, Dr Phil, had fallen for this dancer and singer in the Trocadero Dance Hall in Leeton.
In other words, I told him, you were a guy heading for a fall.
I had no idea, Mr Barlowe. I had no idea.
Sure, kiddo, you were just a deer waiting for Mr Lion to come along. The low life in get a little hungry this time of the year.
It was time for reunions. Like with Mr Big. We had previous dealings.
Only one of us was going to come out this smelling like roses.
The Trocadero, Pine Avenue, is a rundown, sleazy kind of joint, but so far as the locals are concerned it is Hollywood.
Parkes might have its host of Elvises, but in Leeton every woman over forty wants to be Doris Day.
As I walked in I found enough glitz to rival Bollywood.
It was not hard to find a dame.
This one was singing her heart out:
I work at the Palace Ballroom,
but, gee that Palace is cheap;
when I get back to my chilly hall room
I’m much to tired to sleep.
I’m one of those lady teachers,
a beautiful hostess, you know,
the kind the Palace features
for only a dime a throw.
Ten cents a dance…..
I’m short on small change, sugar. But if you can direct me to Mr Big, there could be a C-note in it for you.
Her face turned as white as Malcolm T’s when Godwin Gretch’s name is mentioned.
I ain’t squealin’, she said.
Sure you are not, kiddo, I understand that you would still look pretty in a concrete bikini.
The dame continued her stint as a chanteuse:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6RNvyHzdxo
To be continued….
January 26th, 2010 at 9:34 am
Can I can I getchya a soda pop from the freeze box, Mister Barlowe? she said, her wide eyes breaking over me like a cute dawn.
She was a bit like a Doris Day before she became a Hollywood virgin.
Sure, sugar, thanks make it neat like you, I said.
It’s got me beat why a dame like that could be involved with a low life like Mister Big.
Maybe good and bad are drawn together like magnets on a freeze box door.
Whatever.
This dame had me in a fix.
Do you mind, Mister Barlowe, if I slip into something a little more comfortable?
TO BE CONTINUED
January 26th, 2010 at 10:16 am
Dear Miss KJ,
You probably didn’t notice that I picked up an O.C. in the Australia Day Honours List – there are quite a few of us Old Carnts out there, although, as you know we’re from a generation that’s pretty shy compared to the young uns of today – the type who get on Facebook with initimate details of their sex lives (with pix for Godsake!).
We just like to get on with it. Unlike the Rev Kev who I notice has come out of his summer hibernation and is at it again, talking talking talking.
On the other side of the political fence what do you make of Tony Six Pack encouraging girls to keep themselves intact until their wedding day?
Do you think there are votes in this? And if so, whose?
I remain,
The Old Carnt OC
Dear The Old Carnt, OC,
Services to Old Carntery…..doesn’t get much better than this. Congratulations!
On the matter of Tony Six Pack’s latest intervention, I think that on January 26th there’s NO better time to remind ourselves that we are lucky to live in one of the world’s most highly developed democracies. SO…..Tony can say what he likes and we should all respect that.
Are their any votes in an appeal for pre-nuptial celibacy?
I predict about 283 – spread throughout the electorate. Over to Antony Green. KJ.
January 26th, 2010 at 12:25 pm
I once went into retreat.
I took long service for three weeks.
Dear Megsy,
Hands up any worker in Australia who hasn’t employed this strategy!
On the form, reason for absence?
‘A combination of free floating anxiety, boss-induced paranoia and one ticket to Bangkok where facelifts come in at around a fifth of accepted local rates…’ KJ.
January 26th, 2010 at 3:07 pm
Trunk Road 80, Leeton, uncurled in front of me like a black snake in front of the headlights.
It was time for a confrontation.
TO BE CONTINUED.
January 26th, 2010 at 4:54 pm
When’s Afghanistan Day?
Dear The Dude,
Good question…..
My initial research indicates that March 21st is Aghanistan Day throughout the United States.
http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Afghanistan_Day_Proclamation_Speech
KJ (Inquiries Desk).
January 26th, 2010 at 5:09 pm
Yesterday I was feeling International
The day before rather slightly Irrational
And today they say I should feel National.
January 26th, 2010 at 7:13 pm
The Rev Kev,
It seems there are now TWO Kevolutions!
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/01/26/2801852.htm
Dear Chadwick,
Well, The Rev Kev did counsel for families to do something special for Australia Day. KJ.
January 26th, 2010 at 8:32 pm
Oh Mr Abbott,
Your encyclical
Is in The Weekly for all to see….
And it’s not about the weather
But keep your knees together,
And preserve your holy virginity.
But virginity works both ways,
And when you reflect upon your days
In the seminary and beyonder
You must pause, and perhaps ponder….
How we all stray from the path
Of pure and virtuous morality,
And some of us had a kid
Because of what we did.
But if we name it, we must do it CAREFULLY.
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/01/26/2801725.htm
January 27th, 2010 at 5:50 am
Came downstairs as An Act of Courage to find that the French are banning burgers.
Quite right if they mean those Super Macs. But if they mean those good old fashioned ones with onions, lettuce and beetroot (not the canned) and a touch of coleslaw they have not made a good decision.
Then I realised I had made a mistake.
I must get these glasses changed.
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/01/26/2801983.htm
Back upstairs to the man eatin’ doona….
January 27th, 2010 at 11:39 am
You’re cheap, real cheap, Barlowe, said Mr Big as he pointed his Smith and Wesson at my temple. Real cheap.
Ten cents a dance, kiddo. We are all entitled to our opinion. Everyone’s got one, like elbows. In your case, it is a comment awaiting moderation.
Where’s the dame, Barlowe, where’s the dame?
The muzzle of the weapon looked as big as the entry to the Sydney Harbour Tunnel.
Ask no questions, and you get told no lies, Mr Big. Perhaps she’s tucked away in her special occasions knickers drawer.
Come clean, Barlowe, come clean.
I am as clean as a whistle, pal. But only one of us is going to walk out of here smelling like roses.
TO BE CONTINUED……
January 27th, 2010 at 5:58 pm
Aaah!
A nostalgic memory……
My Overdale retreat also involved advice from Father Cornetto as you call him.
In the male version of your wedding night talk I remember him saying ‘it doesn’t mean you should go out and root a cow.’
Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – the years have erased the context and metaphorical meaning of the statement and everything else about Overdale for that matter.
A priest with bleached blond hair, a tan and a sports car certainly seemed dodgy to my teenage self way back then and I can’t help but wonder why it didn’t seem dodgy to the people in power as well…
Would you let your son or daughter alone with a priest that looked like that? Did Gwennie and Hec ever meet him?
Dear Old College Day Bum,
Great to have you drop in here……
I suspect the man’s utterances didn’t have context or meaning for the retreatees even back then – I think we may have just all thought: ‘What…that sounds weird. I’ve never heard an adult talk like that….’
Trouble is he PRESENTED as a charming, ‘groovy’ type – at a time when the Church was anxious to present an updated image: folk masses, signs of the peace etc.
A clever strategy for a man who was to exercise his ‘power’ in terrible ways…
And those in power? Only they’d know what they knew/or didn’t………..
I don’t think Hec and Gwennie ever met him.
Hope to see you back in here on happier matters.
KJ.
January 28th, 2010 at 8:27 am
Hiya KJ
Terrific news!
Tony Six Pack – inspired by Clint’s Invictus – wants me to script a film about an Aussie virgin with what Tone says is “an equally inspiring story to tell”.
Working title: INTACTUS.
Workshopping ideas this morning. All positive input welcome.
Best,
Sii.
Dear Sii,
Fantastic!
Don’t want to be too forward, but I am available for ‘Intactus’ – a bit part would work best. KJ.
January 28th, 2010 at 2:00 pm
Life gets tejious, don’t it?, like the song says. That is unless you gotta a heater pressed to your temple by a wise guy….
I must ask Art to have that sign fixed.
It flickers on and off like a Riverina politician’s promises.
The red makes my face look like something out of Dracula, a cool guy if you don’t mind me saying. A cool guy with an unusual drinking problem. A man hard to put through the Twelve Steps.
I went downstairs to Art’s Bar and Grill.
I put a coin in the juke box.
Ten cents a record.
Blessed Mahler. Art had done the right thing. Three JBs and I’d be right for the job.
I couldn’t get over that dame, with her blue eyes shining like the sky over Humper Hill at dawn.
But was she as clean as a whistle?
I had seen her driving down Pine Avenue in a red sports car with Father Bumjoy, a charismatic clerical gent.
Miss Innocent had also been noticed at the races, putting on piles of moolah on the favorite for swarthy guys with bulging pockets.
( We’d better meet again, sugar. You better start singing for your supper. And you had better hit the right note – that’s if you want that C-note, toots).
Same again, Art, and a quart of rye to go. I have work to do.
Sure, Barlowe, sure.
That Art sure is a swell guy. Blood of Marines running in his veins. Even organized a crap game for Aussie Day.
I got to blow.
TO BE CONTINUED.
January 29th, 2010 at 5:48 am
The dame was sitting up in her little cot, reading a paper back.
I glanced at its cover: THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF SCONES.
Wassup, Mister Barlowe?
Time for a little chat, sister. An entre nous, a little palaver, a buzz, a heart to heart…..
What’s on your mind, Mister Barlowe?
You wouldn’t want to know, toots, unless you want to dirty that pure little Leeton mind. Let me ask you, what do you know about PHIL-ANTHROPHY ?
Sorry, Mister Barlowe, I don’t know anything about Cooking. What’s the ingredients for the recipe? I’m a lousy cook, that’s why I am reading The Incredible Lightness of Scones.
She’s a swell girl, with a lot to learn.
I said Phil-Anthrophy, sugar.
The only Phil I know, Mister Barlowe, is Doctor Phil.
And?
Mister Big got me to help him with his lamington drives for charity.
At last I was making progress…….
Complicated things can be answered immediately, but the obvious may take a little time.
TO BE CONTINUED….
January 29th, 2010 at 7:59 am
Dear KJ,
Only had a chance for a brief glance at the publication in NSW today of the MySchool website – initially, the Computer Say No!
Given your lifelong dedication to the nurturing of young minds and your frequent references to your catholic school and state school education in Leeton, what do you make of this league table caper? And how did your old schools fare? And is it fair?
Yrs,
The Man In Grey.
Dear The Man In Grey,
This is what I have to say on the matter. As a Year 12 Alumni of Leeton High, NEXT year will be BIG year on Julia’s website.
*For those prepared to move to the Riverina for the sake of their children’s education, you can’t beat BARELLAN. It was Barellan Central School’s year THIS year.
http://www.myschool.edu.au/Main.aspx?PageId=0&SDRSchoolId=NSWG00537_1131&DEEWRId=10521&CalendarYear=2009
If you live in Barellan, you get to shop at Woolie’s, Leeton.
KJ.
January 29th, 2010 at 4:49 pm
As I hurtled down Trunk Road 80 in the rusty but trusty Peugot, I thought again and again about that dame…..
Thoughts are fine, but they won’t get you a ride on the New York Subway.
She was ringing in my head like an alarm bell at the Leeton Fire Station in summertime.
I ain’t never gonna be scone-less again, she had told me as she put down her book, The Unbearable Lightness of Scones.
Something was cooking, all right, and I didn’t like the taste or smell of it.
Somebody was gonna burn their fingers……..
To be continued……
January 30th, 2010 at 8:11 am
I switched on the car radio.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95aP0OWx4jY
Sure, this dame was good looking, but what was she cooking?’
What was in the oven?
Was Mr Big the chef, not at a fish-fry, but a cremation?
To be continued…..
January 30th, 2010 at 8:16 am
Sure enough, I was being followed….
It was only a matter of time before they got on my trail.
Two guys in trench coats and fedoras in a red sports car, and with suspicious bulges in their pockets.
Such low life may only be Padding in Life’s Opera, but they can be very harmful to a PI’s health.
I swung into Acacia Avenue and climbed a tree. Strangely enough it was an acacia.
The sports car roared by. One large, fat guy and a small feller, who had pulled out his shooter.
I found I was sharing a branch with a Leeton sulphur-crested cockatoo.
It awoke and began to sing: Barney Google, with the Great Big Googly Eyes.
It must be a National Party parrot, perhaps its mascot.
I climbed down, got into the Peugot, pressed on the loud pedal and headed for the Trocadero Dance Hall in Pine Avenue.
Time to face the music, pal. And if you hit the wrong note, it could be curtains for you…..
To be continued……..
January 30th, 2010 at 1:44 pm
Your Enemy Needs YOU !
Will the recruitment drive to pay Taliban soldiers not to fight be a success?
January 30th, 2010 at 2:08 pm
Are the Rossellini related to the Rosses?
Isabella in her Green Porno educational videos demonstrates that a Prawn, or shrimp, changes sex and sheds its shell before making love.
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=Isabella+Rossellini&search_type=&aq=f
The Prawn Men are Coming?
January 30th, 2010 at 6:03 pm
Time was, I was a warbler. That was before I became a shamus……
I still like to keep my hand in.
Use it or lose it, pal…….
Am I right, or am right?
The couples were swaying in Leeton’s Trocadero to the music of Sammy Fain and the lyrics of Irving Kahal and Francis Wheeler as I opened the tonsils…
They looked like they were tuckered out on Doris Day, and needed a lift. They needed to start smiling and start living.
I let them have it:
Just let a smile be your umbrella,
On a rainy, rainy day . . .
And if your sweetie cries, just tell her,
That a smile will always pay . . .
That’s when I noticed the pair of wise guys near the entrance….
They went to the bar and ordered, but the small man did not take his peepers off me. Sure, they were only padding in life’s upholstery, but sitting on a broken spring can do you enormous damage.
I signalled the band and switched to a Flanagan and Allen song, still on the umberella theme:
Toodle-uma-luma-luma
Toodle-uma-luma-luma
Toodle-aye-ay
Any umbrellas, any umbrellas to mend today…..?
I eased the biretta from my pocket.
Pow! A bullet whizzed past.
The Leetonians were screaming and running for cover.
The two Pad-Men ran out of the entrance with me in pursuit, hotter than hotter.
TO BE CONTINUED….
January 31st, 2010 at 8:12 am
As I hid behind a Leeton Council recycling bin, I could hear the small failed assassin talking to his large companion…..
Large man: You missed the warbler, sonny-jim.
Small man: Nobody’s perfect, you know.
Large man: You missed him. We’ll have to take it to the Top.
Small man: Which is?
Large man: We do not know.
Small man: We do not indeed. Perhaps we are only padding.
Padding is important, my friends. Ask any PI. But it can make you fall into an easy sleep, make you drowsy so you miss the obvious. Like I say, the obvious may take a little time…
Am I right, or am I right?
As the shooters drove off, I decided that dame needed another visit from Barlowe, PI.
If there was singing, it was about time she joined in the chorus.
TO BE CONTINUED…
January 31st, 2010 at 8:17 am
The Trocadero was packed to the rafters, and the people only had eyes for her….
The Dame, however, only had eyes for me as she sang. She looked like the sort of prize you would win if you won three straight lotteries in a row.
The eyes of all Leeton were on this baby as she warbled:
Listen, big boy,
Now that you got me made,
Goodness, but I’m afraid,
Somethin’s gonna happen to you!
Listen, big boy,
You gotta be hooked, and how,
I would die if I should lose you now!
Button up your overcoat,
When the wind is free,
Take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
I mean what was it with this broad that she could capture your heart like someone slapping a mosquito….
I shrugged out of my trench coat, pocketed my biretta and donned a boater, tap shoes and cane. There’s something about Johnny Mercer that is pure magic. Not that he can compare with Mahler.
Eat an apple every day,
Get to bed by three,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
Some dames just captivate you with their gaze. This one never took her peepers off me as she continued:
Wear your flannel underwear,
When you climb a tree,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
Then I noticed someone sitting in an alcove of the ‘Troc’.
Mr Big had come to town…….
Don’t sit on hornet’s tails, ooh-ooh!
Or on nails, ooh-ooh!
Or third rails, ooh-ooh!
You’ll get a pain and ruin your tum-tum!
Keep away from bootleg hooch
When you’re on a spree,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
For the Singing PI this was going to be a tough case to crack. I would have to crack a few nuts.
To Be Continued.
January 31st, 2010 at 11:46 am
As I tilted my boater, swung my cane and sang Underneath the Arches I kept one cool eye on Mr Big.
Being careless is a mortal sin for a shamus….
You learn fast and you learn early in this business.
I thought of all those people who died ‘under the arches’ in the old days so that swine like Mr Big could live.
Flanagan & Allen would have detested people like him…..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3cBmfJEVn4
January 31st, 2010 at 1:05 pm
From a distance some people just look a little different and as we all figure life’s not easy for those who are little different….
In Mr Big’s case, however, closer inspection reveals that he is different, and also plain repulsive. The plug ugliest man in Griffith had come to Leeton to enjoy a little singalong from yours truly and that wow dame, that little number in red.
It’s not good to end a singing gig on a bum note, but it could not be avoided, I had to speak to him.
He fired the first verbal shot.
You’re real cheap, umbrella man, he said. You wanna watch it – people can get lost , disappear – poof! – just like an umbrella.
Ten cents a brolly, pal…
Say you do not look good, Barlowe. Maybe you should see a priest. You cannot be too careful. We do not know when our end is nigh. La Morta could be just around the corner – for all of us – for you.
True enough, Mr Big, a couple of your low life pals tried to feed me a lead breakfast.
Yes, like I said, Mr Barlowe, you need spiritual guidance.
I produced my flask of JB.
Here’s mine.
He’s right, however. Seeing a priest would not be a bad idea at all.
One driving a red sports car……
CONCLUSION COMING SOON!
January 31st, 2010 at 1:39 pm
The presbytery was a delight in pink…
Father Bumjoy was packing for his Duck Lake ballet production overseas, and his youthful company was hard at rehearsal.
When they meet their counterparts in the Philippines a whole new world will open up for them….
Sure, father, sure. I get the message.
How can I help you ?
Do you know a man called Dr Phil?
Certainly, he is called Doctor Philanthropy round here.
Well, right at the moment he’s missing.
Missing?
Sure, father, he is missing two million smackeroos.
Father Bumjoy hurriedly closed his safe.
I can account for everything, Mr Barlowe.
Sure, you will be very accountable, father.
At that moment Mr Big and The Lady in Red burst through the door.
At first they did not see me. They were after Father Bumjoy with a vengance.
You double-crosser! You fink ! After all we’ve done!
Drawing my biretta and three pairs of cuffs I told them to cool it quick smart.
Look at it this way folks this is a time for reflection.
It begins today. You’ll have at least ten years in a nice quiet place to reflect on your misdeeds.
As for you Father Bumjoy do not forget the Gospel.
The Gospel?
Sure, Father, from it we learn that the Gospel should produce fruit.
But no nuts.
I love you, Barlowe, not as a PI, but as a MAN, she called as the cops led her away.
Quite frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn.
Art’s Bar And Grill was looking pretty good to me………….
THE END