Leeton’s Shame: Trade In Virgins!
A warning: This is a story that I would prefer NOT to write. It contains information of a highly IN-TI-MATE nature and many local women will loathe me (even more) for its telling…….
BUT, I will NOT be deterred….even though my personal circumstances haven’t been dare I say ‘opportune’ for the hard road that is investigative journalism.
Suffice to say that since December 20, I’ve been involved in a CSIRO-funded project exploring whether it’s possible to survive on nothing but champagne (’Go-et the Mo-et’) and king prawn cutlets. So far, so very good…….(gulp, gulp, crunch, crunch, gulp, gulp, crunch, crunch, crunch….)
Meanwhile, back to my Walkley Award just waiting to happen. *The judges’ report will read: ‘ The ruthless trade in Riverina virgins between 1945-1972 is NOT an attractive story. Congratulations to the celibate local journalist, KJ, for bringing the shameful episode to our attention…’
(cr: Roadsidepictures: flickr)
This is the transcript of just one interview I conducted with a virgin who was traded in 1971:
‘At the time, I was a Leeton virgin working in the Rural Bank with at least 10 other Leeton virgins.
As such, I lived a typical Leeton virgin’s life…..always stemming my erotic urges by indulging in vigorous bouts of competitive basketball. My team, ‘The Marriageable Maulers’, was made up entirely of virgins. Our traditional rivals, ‘The Town Bikes’, were much, much better on the follow through.
From the age of 15 until 19, I – like other Leeton virgins – averaged about 48 dates a year. Most ended in tears. While some virgins always got off at Redfern I insisted on Mittagong which caused enormous distress for both parties. Once, I didn’t get off until Parramatta and felt very guilty.
After the Parramatta incident (which was very messy) I KNEW I couldn’t realistically expect to maintain my virginal status indefinitely. I would have to marry. And quickly…..
Soon after I met a confident young man at a Leeton Virgins Sans Frontieres barbecue.
‘May I introduce myself…? My name is Wazza The Rooter. Having enjoyed a wild couple of years, I am now looking to settlin’ down. Are you a virgin…?’
‘Yes, I am Mr Known Rooter but I fear that if I do NOT marry soon, I will end as captain of ’The Town Bikes’.’
And that is how it happened. Me and Mr Known Rooter were married at 2pm the very next Saturday.
By 10:30pm we were 28 kilometres from Leeton - in the carpark of Narrandera’s Gateway Motel.
Imagine my horror when I realised we were NOT alone. At least 15 other Riverina virgins had their heads in car boots, pulling out frilly honeymoon panties and Margaret Fulton Cookbooks. I recognised some of their new husbands from the Leeton Virgins Sans Frontieres barbecue.
I don’t want to go into too many details about what happened in Room 69 of The Gateway that night.
Enough to say that when Wazza and me pulled into the truckstop at nearby Gillenbah for a late breakfast all the other ‘Gatewayers’ were already seated. The woman behind the hot food counter had seen it all before:
‘Truckies breakfasts all round with extra eggs and sausages for the Gateway sex maniacs!’
And that’s the way it happened KJ…….’ (reaches over for box of Kleenex)
Interview # 126 completed.
Well, well, well to think that thousands of Leeton ladies of a certain age started their married lives like that…isn’t that terrible?
*Note: It is generally acknowleged that Gough Whitlam intervened in the trade in Riverina virgins on humanitarian grounds. By making tertiary education free, many women were able to leave towns and decide when (usually the night of arriving on campus) and with whom (usually a boy) they would surrender their virginity.
**** As usual, would love to hear from you about anything. As I’ve always said: ‘Life is the art of the anything…’
Just quietly though, if you were part of the virgin trade (trader or virgin) it’d be terrific if you lobbed in with salacious material. *The Walkley judges are always very impressed with attachments.
SUMMER READING BONUS!
cr:Booshaka: flickr
This week, we continue the superb series, The Crustacean Capers. Join Barlowe, Private Investigator, The Ginger Man and Mr G.I.N German – hot on the trail of the Mr Big of the Underbelly of the murky Prawn Cutlet inner sanctum.
I’d like to say that the town of Griffith has never seen anything like it but sadly it has…..you know what I mean?
Keep up with The Crustacean Capers all 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 4th, 2010 at 9:58 am
Miss KJ, so pleased to hear you survived Christmas ‘intact’ and thrilled to hear about the newborn. I predict you will front with a new bloke next year and complete the family turnaround.
I think Leeton and Port Macquarie must be sister cities.
May I share a sisterly moment?
I was attending the biennial Chrissy gathering with the family part (that owned by the other half) in ‘port’ – it could have been a disaster but somehow was saved by the pressed turkey roll, the pink fizzy and the 3pm trawl through 4 decades of family postcards.
Exhibit A from Peter to Mum, Surfers Paradise 1976: ‘Having a ball up here with the mates. The hotel is pretty good but the dickhead next door has started complaining about the noise….’
I passed out on the living room floor only to be woken by 82-year-old Shirley (2nd cousin twice removed of my late father-in-law ) leering over me with a fully armed 1974 kodak instamatic camera, which then she fired off thus triggering an almighty explosion from the flash cube.
Well I nearly had a heart attack.
Shirley giggled, gave me a poke with her shoe and muttered: ‘The future is analogue’ before disappearing back to the postcards in the kitchen table in a swirl of apricot chiffon .
So what do you think, is 2010 going to be the death of digital?
Perhaps this could be the subject of a paper from you this year….
Dear yardahyardah,
Welcome! Goodness me….lots to think about here (now, just give me a sec while I down another king prawn cutlet and Goet-Another-Moet)…..
Very nice….now, no doubt about it, Shirley is a genius! She’s right!
Looking back, I’ve relied less and less on digital since about 2005.
Thanks to Shirley I’m now just gonna sit back and let things take their natural course. KJ.
January 4th, 2010 at 10:13 am
It was time to start putting two and two together, but they kept coming up five…..
This widow with the amazing legs, the brother with a fatal attraction, Luigi the Leeton fantasy island figure, Mr Big of Griffith, KJ whose beautiful fingers had never touched a pawn shell yet seemed to crave seafood protein……
And of course the mysterious husband supposed to have been assisted into permanent dreamland. Putting it all together was not worth a hill of beans, crashing to the floor like a bad poker deal.
This case was going nowhere fast.
At first I thought this dream on wheels was swell, but now this dame was turning into a female of which nightmares are made of.
As for that I love him, but not as a Brother but as a Man line it just did not jell.
….Close blood relationships are not uncommon in this neck of hickland, but they are no reason for murder or risking the Chair.
It was time to turn to the Higher Power, and by that I do not mean the one that at times gets me off the JB.
I mean a human intelligence way above others. You know, the sort of guy who can play a Mahler record and tell you what it means. A character who does copies of the Old Masters two at a time, simultaneously. A feller who does not think Occam’s Razor can be purchased at Leeton K-Mart or Quantum Leap is a greyhound.
I mean Mr G.I.N. German, retired spy now writing Irish short stories and radio plays.
I was confident if anybody could crack the code and make sense of this hill of beans it would be him.
I jumped into the old Peugot and sped off toward the Leeton Levee.
To be continued……
January 4th, 2010 at 11:14 am
Dear KJ,
I found the Parable of the Leeton Virgins very moving – there’s a message in there for all working girls and all working families and all working girls who come from working families.
And can I just say (not for the last time in 2010?) that you too are an inspiration – working, working, working all the way through Christmas – and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
You know what?
I find the holiday period HARD WORK. Already they’ve had me going to the Test match, cracking funnies with the guys in the Grandstand commentary box.
To be honest – I know F—All* about cricket. Fortunately one of my minders gave me a briefing paper, with background on the key Pakistani players, so I dropped some interesting stats during my interview – things like how many left handed muslims have scored 50 between lunch and tea on the third day at the MCG – I’m told it went down very well.
To be honest both T and I have put on a few pounds over the festive period, and are both working hard on our bedroom exercise bikes – we’ve found it’s more fun if you sing joyful hymns as you pedal – you should try it KJ after all those prawns not to mention the champagne.
Still, like you I never really stop working. Even when I’m off I’m always thinking about my great love affair with Australia – and my plans to make ALL AUSTRALIANS better people.
Keep up the good work KJ……
*Thank God Mark Scott convinced at least one of you ABC people to hold the fort while everyone else will be away until I guess about the end of January.
God Bless Australia….
The Rev Kev.
PS 1: To the person who sent me a pair of budgie smugglers for Christmas – ha, ha, very funny….and you know what? I know who year are, and I know where you live……
PS 2: *That’s the last time you’ll hear the F-word from The Rev Kev this year – that’s my New Year’s Resolution – and I’m sticking to it.
Dear The Rev Kev,
Thank you for noting that I am continuing to serve the nation in January.
…..If it wasn’t for ‘Go-et The Mo-et’ and my daily regimen of four serves of king prawn cutlets I don’t think I’d get through…..I really don’t.
There’s another problem. I’m stranded!
I’m too terrified to book a flight to Sydney. Gwennie says I’ll have to fly to Melbourne for flight phobia counselling.
*Everybody in Leeton says you DIDN’T write that children’s book. No reasons given. Just: HE DIDN’T! KJ.
January 5th, 2010 at 7:52 am
The motel directly opposite Gillenbah truck stop Narrandera (’Good clean rooms. Inspection welcomed.’) is on the top of my list of motels I must stay in before I shuffle off.
The other one on the list of 2 is the Corio Bay Motel, at the entrance to Geelong, situated immediately in front of a bunch of large white tanks, with highway views.
Further on a subject mentioned in a previous post, I noticed that the recent solid rains in Leeton copped a lukewarm response from an agronomic spokesman interviewed in The Irrigator today.
Apparently the rain wasn’t too bad but:
* It will make the weeds grow
* It should have come in February
* There should have been twice as much of it.
Dear Roma Street,
Would you believe it? I have just returned from the Gillenbah Truckies’ complex……
DO NOT be alarmed – I was NOT part of the virgin trade but was taking the opportunity to look for koalas on the nearby Narrandera Common. TWO spotted – real cuties high up in the gums.
Funny….when I was a kid NO ONE in Leeton ever mentioned that Narrandera had a koala population. Yet another example of destructive inter- town jealously, I guess.
Yes, the great recent falls of rain continue to cause enormous distress. It is said that some farmers will even have to put a crop or two in……..
KJ.
January 5th, 2010 at 2:39 pm
I am starting to understand why Tony Abbott has such appeal.
1. It’s the six-pack. What could be more testosterone driven than that?
2. He was a seminarian, but testosterone won. No pale faced Jesus for him.
3. He failed to complete his education as a priest, but the brownie points helped to make it to Oxford where he won a BOXING BLUE.
4. He can say bullshit on TV to an opposing female politician and pass it off as a joke, pretend to flirt with the dreaded Julia in Parliament, then move on to the sanctity of child-bearing women.
5. He’s NO namby pamby Rudd or Turnbull. He goes straight for the balls.
January 5th, 2010 at 2:57 pm
G.I.N German is a swell guy……
I found him in his trailer tinkering with a small aquarium filled with tiny crustaceans.
He had a large container of Saxa salt. He was gradually adding the sodium chloride to the tank.
He made me a cup of java on his little stove as he explained the crazy hill of beans in which I had become immersed.
This has been for years a Waterless Irrigation Area, right?
(He was right on the button there. I had driven to the levee many times and the levee was dry…..)
Now it has had rain, but it also has a saline problem, right?
Again German had hit the right note.
And what creature likes salt water?
PRAWNS!
And what creatures would be most valuable?
Inland shell-less prawns?
(Yesirreebobtruedat, as the Chief Monk would say).
When you shot your pistol into Mr Big’s aquarium are you sure they were piranha?
Well, no.
That’s right. They were SHELL FREE PRAWNS.
And the missing husband?
To be continued.
January 6th, 2010 at 8:23 am
Carnt help thinking that your man Barlowe should have a good look into the Australian Cricket team. Absolutely pathetic performance.
I blame Rudd – this is what happens when you allow people into this country who don’t know Bradman’s batting average.
Dear The Old Carnt,
Barlowe says he’ll be in touch after he settles the missing husband cum shell-less prawn case in Griffith.
*He did let it slip that Cricket Australia has him on a retainer. He remains VERY closely involved in the Bingle vehicle case. KJ.
January 6th, 2010 at 9:48 am
Dear KJ,
Condolences on having a Nat cell in what otherwise seems to be a wholesome family.
There are black sheep lurking, smirking …
KJ knows to rise above such indignity.
NatNot (also loving the Crustacean Capers).
Dear NatNot,
Welcome! Thank you. Yes, it was terribly hard for (almost) everyone when we found out that we had a couple of National voters in our ranks.
But, we’ve done our best to contain the damage. For example, on election days we always get our Nats very drunk. NOT one has ever made it to a polling booth. KJ.
January 6th, 2010 at 10:02 am
Did you ever see the science fiction film District 9? Directed by Peter Jackson.
NOSSIRREE
The chief character is Wikus van de Merwe, a South African bureaucrat assigned to relocate a race of extraterrestrial creatures, derogatorily referred to as “prawns”, from a refugee camp in Johannesburg to a new one outside the city.
CUT THE CAPER GINGE…
Well, if you saw the film you’d know that these aliens apparently like cat food and are held in District 9, but are being transfered to District 10 for the safety of the city of Johannesburg.
The alien form however is odd and does not have our type of vocal chords and cannot speak as humans do.
And so?
Wikus van de Merwe is a REAL PERSON. He is your Missing Husband. He was living just outside Leeton, and he began experimentation using crustaceans, aquariums, salt and X-rated videos. Leeton can be a very boring town. A man needs a hobby……
An awful result.. Unlike almost all other decapods, prawns do not brood their eggs on the pleopods, but release the eggs into the water after fertilisation . Wikus provided the fertilization himself. I’ll spare you the sordid details.
I had heard enough. I jumped into the Peugot and sped to my dingy office where the widow was awaiting, painting her toenails bright scarlet like arterial blood.
She’s an impatient creature.
‘Well, Barlowe, you gonna come clean or what?’ She uncurled those legs of which deams are made of.
‘Sure, baby, sure. Calm down and I’ll give you the facts ma’am. Just the facts.’
I took her by the arm and led her to the window where the red neon was flashing.
I pointed towards the Levee…..
‘Your husband has not been knocked off, bumped, kicked off into eternity……
He’s out there somewhere, with your Brother…..’
‘I love him, not as a Brother, but as a MAN!’
‘You said that before, sugar.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘They swim a lot nowadays. You might have trouble recognizing them now.’
‘How can I get them back?’
‘You got any cat food, lady? That’ll be five Gs. Five big ones. No receipts.’
To be continued….
January 7th, 2010 at 10:05 am
I opened the parcel from Griffith. Inside was a packet of shell-less prawns and a message. It was obviously from Mr Big:
HE SLEEPS WITH THE FISHES.
To be continued…..
January 7th, 2010 at 10:08 am
My husband suggested we have prawns for dinner last night.
I said: ‘Absolutely NOT!’
Dear Megsy,
Different people – different reactions! I didn’t think it was possible but my king prawn consumption is on the up……KJ.
January 7th, 2010 at 10:25 am
The Shell-less Leeton Prawn Festival grown in organic saline – could that be a possibility? Mr Barlowe, my friend, is on to something.
The experiments and genetic research must continue, Mr Barlowe.
KJ, during your visit, did you happen to notice prawn-like conditions emerging among the locals?
They’ll have to be carefully bred. We have seen the problems with sturgeon, salmon and trout and prawn farms.
…..Too many close blood relations. Brother and sister prawns loving each other, not as siblings BUT AS PRAWNS!
Dear The Ginger Man,
Every morning I coat myself in flour. Then egg. Then I roll around in a breadcrumb bath.
If I am turning into a prawn cutlet, then so be it. KJ.
January 7th, 2010 at 11:45 am
Carnt help thinking that your man Barlowe should have a good look at the Pakistani cricket team. Absolutely pathetic performance.
This is what happens when people don’t know Bradman’s batting average.
Dear The Old Carnt,
The feeling around Leeton is: Why try to win a game of cricket if you aren’t allowed to have celebratory beers? KJ.
January 7th, 2010 at 6:45 pm
KJ,
If you are flying back from Lee-ton DO NOT BRING HONEY!
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/01/06/2786578.htm
Dear The Dude,
No honey, honey……and NO planes either, honey.
I CANNOT fly but have secured a lift with a real honey, honey. KJ.
January 8th, 2010 at 9:48 am
The synapses are in overdrive…..
LEETON: PRAWN CAPITAL OF THE RIVERINA.
We come out of our shell to welcome you!
*Ed’s note: More king prawn cutlets taken last night. Venue: Hong Kong Restaurant, Pine Avenue. Rating: ****
January 8th, 2010 at 10:00 am
The Crustacean Caper turns out to be bigger than big….
Some character somewhere along the line had come the raw prawn.
NOBODY does that to Barlowe, PI. No way, nowhere, no how…..
I thought of that dame who had wandered into my life. What’s her game?
Could this be a national or international scam by low lifes like the Shrimp Scam I uncovered in LA light years ago?
That dame was always on my mind, just like those legs that could launch a thousand hips. Boy, was she the goods.
But I was as wary as a coyote sniffing at a trap.
There’s something really darn FISHY about this whole Crustacean Caper.
It doesn’t smell right.
Maybe the dice were loaded. I took a quick snort of JB, turned off the Mahler, jumped into the jalopy and headed for Cooma……
To be continued…..
January 8th, 2010 at 4:23 pm
The Leeton Rural Bank building is for sale.
It should be Heritage listed. Mark Taylor( cricketer) lived there).
KJ has been there, I’ve been to a party there. It was central to the Retro Virgin trade of leeton.
Dear Muza,
The campaign to have the Rural Bank site preserved as central to future generations’ understanding of the Riverina Virgin Trade begins RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!
KJ.
January 9th, 2010 at 9:20 am
The roadside was littered with prawn shells….
They were all on the left of the highway leading to Cooma.
Some low lifes were obviously trying to beat Barlowe, PI to the punch. I had to get there, fast, real fast so I pressed down hard on the loud pedal.
To be continued…..
January 9th, 2010 at 9:24 am
Guess you could say the trip to Cooma was not worth a hill of beans.
Not unless you believe Mahler was a music crazy on the right track, or that evolution will produce the shell-less prawn, sooner or later.
When I saw Peter, the revolt-rural, on his hunger-strike pole I was reminded that the country feeds us.
Around his protest there were many temptresses offering him offerings…PRAWN CUTLETS! On sticks.
Cooma produces many things. Prawns are not among them.
‘Come down,’ they cried. ‘Let’s PRAWN PARTY.’
Peter was having none of it.
From his persecutory position he sang:
The Yabbie is a holy critter
That goes in salad or a fritter
Not like reffo prawns, the quitters….
A temptress offered Barlowe, PI, a Cutlet.
I confess, I accepted.
After the worst pscho-chem nightmare since Ponting won the toss I awoke with a cool dame, but I had no time to lose.
‘The Test! Get cool baby. Empty your purse. Sydney Cricket Ground is next stop. Taxi!’
To be continued……
January 9th, 2010 at 9:32 am
It was after I discovered that the Prawn Cult were trying to lure down from his pole the hunger striking farmer by offering him garlic prawns on pointed sticks in Cooma that the penny dropped.
This was bigger than big.
Alas, I had taken a delicious morsel myself.
First time ever I encountered a Prawn Mickey Finn.
So it was I found myself passed out on the road en route from Cooma to Sydney.
Was I too late to make it to the SCG? It was Thirty Nine Steps all over again, but this time the steps were to the Members’ Pavilion.
I turned on Grandstand to discover that a beautiful woman was about to present the Prawn Award to Ponting.
That poor dope. Did he not realise that while the Aussies were scoffing Gatorade and KFC the poor Pakis were dining on Poisoned Prawns!
No wonder they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory….
I knew who that beautiful dame was. I could imagine the crowd goggling at the Legs that Could Launch a Thousand Hips.
My head was ringing like an SP bookies’ office on a Saturday, but I decided to press on to Sydney.
It was time to have a head to head with this demon of a dame and her cult.
I cleaned my biretta. Just as well, because it stank of fish oil.
OK, baby, two can play at that game. Nobody, I mean nobody, plays Barlowe, PI, for a punk….
The road ahead was littered with prawn shells. I was on the right trail, like a hound dog.
I found my cell phone and called G.I.N. German, Code Breaker.
He directed me to an address in Ultimo.
Could it be the Thirty Nine Steps to KJ’s office? Was this dame of diabolica trying to recruit the ABC top crime reporter to the Cult?
If so she’d be in more strife than Flash Gordon….
To be continued……
January 12th, 2010 at 10:04 am
The security guard at Ultimo, fortunately, was an old client. I got him his divorce thanks to pix of his old lady making whoopee with a colleague.
I climbed the Thirty Nine Steps to KJ’s office.
Not there!
Where was this babe?
Leeton, they told me.
I had made it in time.
So I left a note:
KJ, DO NOT GO ON AIR AFTER EATING SEAFOOD.
In the foyer I encountered, guess who? The Babe with the Legs that Make Nightmares. She was clutching a parcel of prawn cutlets.
The game’s up, kiddo. Where you’re going you’ll be lucky to have a fried tadpole from the prison farm pond.
I snapped on the cuffs.
BUT I LOVE YOU BARLOWE, NOT AS A PI BUT AS A MAN!
I gave her the eye, colder than a Frigidaire.
Sure, you do, baby, like those poor suckers like the cutlets.
Take that dame away, officer.
Sure, Barlowe. Sure.
And take those damned cutlets with her and put them through Forensic.
January 12th, 2010 at 10:11 am
I walked into Art’s bar and downed a JB faster than Roy Rogers or Tom Mix drawing their shooters.
Where you been, Barlowe? asked Art.
Just another case. Say, you’ve smartened the place up.
Yeah, we tore down the ladies’ saloon and built a snazzy food bar.
Looks like the bees’ knees to me. Real swell. What’s the speciality?
GARLIC PRAWN CUTLETS.
I know you cannot hit a pal, not unless you are a low life…..
That doesn’t mean that the desire is not there, even for Barlowe, PI.