Email to:Why country folk are better lovers!
Would seeing a farmer deliver a calf by yanking it out with a couple of ropes make you aware of where YOU come from?
I certainly hope not!
Still, the cliches abound about how country folk with sex urges allegedly the size and unruliness of Texas learn and put into glorious practice the facts of life.
Simply put, ’we’re’ pig ignorant about the finer points of arousal (gettin’ off), respect with novel approaches (get real!) and general boudoir etiquette (I’d really, really like ya outta here before Warren gets back).
Apparently, ‘we’ witnessed that dramatic calf-with-pulley nativity scene and away we went…..
The truth is much more complex.
It is well-documented that when, at the 1984 Winter Olympics, Torvill and Dean turned Ravel’s ‘Bolero’ into a filthy (albeit artistic) meditation on contemporary lovemaking, the bedrooms of Australia erupted into seething sites of contortionary hi-jinks.
Injuries sustained during what orthopaedic surgeons - in hundreds of conference papers - term ’The Bolero Madness’ continue to add to already unsustainable waiting lists.
(One documented case of 1984 Riverina ‘ The Bolero Madness’: cr: laverrue: flickr)
And ‘The Bolero Madness’ was most pronounced in country areas. For in Leeton 25 years ago, regional eroticists had long grown tired of watching livestock in their most intimate of moments. For couples anxious to expand their boudoir repertoire – desperate to have one last go at home before seeking excitement in Ardlethan or Grong Grong - Torvill and Dean, Mr Ravel and ‘Bolero’ were the Perfect Sensual Storm.
Local record sales of ‘that bloke Ravel’ went through the roof.
What followed was sexploits of a most surprising nature…..
Long time previously modest marrieds proudly turned up to work in ‘The Bolero Madness’ inspired neck braces. Local football identities disrupted training sessions by lifting team mates high in the air, gazing longingly into their eyes. And in sweaty confessional boxes all over the Riverina, priests sat goggle- eyed while breathless, righteous citizens took great pleasure in relating stories of ‘ The Bolero Madness’ taking them all the way to the Gates Of Hell:
‘And you know what Father, it was bloody good, bloody FANTASTIC!’
So - not to be crass mind but perhaps you’d like to know - did I ever dare taste ‘The Bolero Madness’?
Just once.
First of all - for a pratical country gal - Mr Ravel did go on a bit…..
’Bolero’ is FAR too long, coming in at just under five minutes. For someone prone to Sheridan Sheet ‘Seconds’ Stastis, that’s a big ask.
Another problem….
’Bolero’ is deceptive. You think it’s coming to an end only to have it take off again. Disconcerting to say the least, particularly if you’ve got one ear on the stereo and the other on 2RG’s sports round up.
Still, I’m in a minority…..
The 2010 Winter Olympics saw Leeton GP’s again exhausted – and again perplexed.
Hundreds of cases of ‘The Bolero Madness’ induced trauma were again coming through their waiting rooms.
Nigh impossible to treat…….
Because the Riverina’s ‘The Bolero Madness’ relapse rate is the highest in the developed world.
* For those wishing to re-live your ‘The Bolero Madness’ just click ‘ere. Please report back with a detailed injury list. *Be extra careful or extra adventurous - depending on your arousal threshold - around 2:05 and 4:20.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru6qjbRghyU
* So, looking forward to hearing all about your latest brush with ’ The Bolero Madness’. And, of course, anything else unfolding in your cabbage patch.
*Congratulations to our new posters who’ve joined in of late. To say we all feel privileged is an understatement if ever there was one……
*The Ginger Man: The Riverina Hep Cat Capers.
(cr: Mick O: flickr)
Great news!
Our resident tri polar adventurer with ’ The Bolero Madness’ inspired double pikes, The Ginger Man, is out of the Loaded Dog Henry Lawson Detox Community Cottage and hangin’ real loose……on the streets and in the dance halls of the Riverina.
Follow his ‘Hep Cat Capers’ all this week in our comments section.
For those new to The Ginger Man (in here via Trinity College, Dublin, and Bletchley Park) thumb your nose at that turgid reality that’s passing for a life - and thrill to a swell new vibe.
I know I do!
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.
Prawn Cutlet Award
March 8th, 2010 at 12:46 pm
I have two lessons for you, She said.
First how to sing:
Bolero, un rendez vous ce soir
Un rendez vous ce soir
Ou chantent les guitarres……
I have never forgotten the lyrics of that first lesson.
I am still trying to forget the second.
March 8th, 2010 at 1:38 pm
And what comes after Bolero?
Dear The Dude,
The regional news and weather on MTN 9. KJ.
March 8th, 2010 at 1:51 pm
Just back from a Hep Cats night at the Trocadero, Leeton.
The floor is being repaired.
It don’t mean a thing, if The Ginger Man aint got that Swing!
To be continued…..
March 8th, 2010 at 3:31 pm
Another thing everybody……
I’ve always found anything by ‘AC DC’ an appropriate accompaniment for my intimate activities.
Dear The Dude,
Thank you for letting us know. KJ.
March 9th, 2010 at 7:49 am
HEP CAT FESTIVAL HISTORICAL FILMING.
As part of the Leeton Hep Cat Festival, I am having trouble in running an open air screening of some of the shorts from my previous attempts at cinema.
Most controversial:
THE DARK SIDE OF GALLIPOLI.
Some snippets:
Colonel Frogmorton, to General Thistlewaite-Upbottom:
Frankly, Sir, I do not TRUST THESE COLONIALS. The last three British commanders were shot in the back when they called: Over the Top, Men!
General: Just boyish good humour, surely, Frogmorton. They’ll soon get used to a touch of shot and hell, what, what, what?
Then, General, there’s that playing two-up with the Turks by semaphore.
General: Well, start them on Cricket, that’s the show. The Ashes.
But most of the ashes are Aussies, General…….
General: Bit of leg spin, round the wicket in No Man’s Land. Show ‘em what sportmanship is all about. Playing fields of Eton, and all that.
We tried that, General.
General: And?
They threw grenades instead of balls. Lieutenant Uppington was the first casualty. Wonderful straight bat. Comes from a great family in Gloucestershire.
General: Well, double the rations of lice powder to the Australians.
Yes, Sir!
To be continued….
March 10th, 2010 at 8:01 am
It’s time to come clean, on the name of the film Director and Producer, Mr G.I.N. German, was intending to shoot before the Trailer Incident.
It was to be THE MALTESE CHOOK.
It may still happen, kiddo, if we can find the female lead.
We need a Dame.
There’s always a Dame.
Am I right, or am I right?
To be continued.
March 10th, 2010 at 8:08 am
Dear Miss KJ,
I want you to close you eyes and imagine you’re unwell….
Let’s say an unidentified fever brought on by a nervy or maybe even a bolero.
You’re lying in a hospital bed awaiting The Doctor.
Suddenly, Nurse – speaking in appropriately reverential tones – whispers:
Doctor’s coming!
Now here’s the question for you (and every other patient in Australia) -
Would YOU like to open you eyes to see a Mad man rush to your bedside inappropriately parading himself in the briefest of jocks?
He takes your pulse, does 50 press ups on the ward floor, confesses he thinks he once may have mistakenly made Nurse pregnant and then rushes off….after blaming everything on the Government…
…OR would you like to open your eyes to see the reassuringly bespectacled face of The Rev Doctor Kev wearing a clinically clean white coat….
He calmly takes your hand in a strictly professional manner….
And quietly announces a professionally focussed diagnostic course of medical treatment?
You know what?
I think we all know the answer to that one.
Stay well. Stay safe,
With The Rev Dr Kev.
PS: Once I’ve got the new hospitals going properly there’s going to be a whole lot of new jobs down Canberra way. Spread the word!
Dear Dr The Rev Kev,
It’s not like the spectacle of a man parading himself in the briefest of jocks at my bedside (while humming ‘Bolero’) is anything new…..
As one who treasures her vote, I am at this stage not swayed by either scenario. KJ.
March 10th, 2010 at 10:34 am
Of all the lousy chicken coops in the world…..you had to walk into this one…….carrying that moth-eaten Maltese Chook, toots.
It doesn’t even rate a schwark…….if you know what I mean, kiddo?
Is this a case of post Civil War KFC?
Giblet Queen of the Riverine?
Climate Change Chicky-Do?
Advance Feathers……yeah, yeah, yeah……
To be continued.
March 10th, 2010 at 5:30 pm
Ravel initially titled ‘Bolero’, ‘Fandango’.
A question for our dancing The Ginger Man: What do you prefer?
Dear Megsy,
I don’t know what The Ginger Man prefers but I’m glad Mr Ravel had second thoughts.
No one should have to turn up at work with a sick certificate which – in answer to reason for absence – says: ‘ The Fandango Madness’. KJ.
March 10th, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Came downstairs as An Act Of Courage….
Read the post about ‘Bolero’.
Back upstairs to the man-eatin’ doona. (No music, no nothin’)
Dear The Knuckle,
At least we all know you’re safe….KJ.
March 10th, 2010 at 8:24 pm
Love country style…….
I remember being asked at an evening function at a rural rugby club by one of the beefy players whether or not I’d like to see the scrum machine.
Dear Mrs T,
A bush poet if ever there was one……
What happened next please?
KJ.
March 10th, 2010 at 9:06 pm
What happened next was an invitation to look at his cows.
Thank you Mrs T. What happened next please?
*You may find this hard to believe but my Leeton dating career circa 1974 was marred by a case of ME being stood up.
The official reason given a week later during a chance meeting on Pine Avenue: ‘I was helpin’ dad with the pigs.’ KJ.
March 10th, 2010 at 9:54 pm
Where do babies come from?
The Fandango.
March 11th, 2010 at 6:10 pm
Dear Megsy,
Actually, my preference is the Fandalero which I saw danced in small and large drinking establishments during the Spanish Civil War.
Hemingway was a master of the Fandalero.
March 11th, 2010 at 6:18 pm
That eau de cologne in Art’s Bar and Grill, Leeton, never seems to stop its jingle jangle these days.
The phone’s like Tex Ritter’s or Gene Autry’s spurs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsUX6mQQM5Q
Never stops jingling, and it’s always a Dame.
This time it’s a Maltese Dame.
Meester Barlowe, you gotta helpa me….!
Now if you know anything about Maltese Dames, you never make them cross.
Am I right or am I right?
Sure, Tootsina, how can I help?
My rooster’s gone! My beautiful Maltese Chickarino is desparido, gone, missing, Mister Barlowe.
I’ll get right on the case, Mrs….?
Buhagiar.
Right Mrs Buhagiar, he cannot have gone far….
He’s probably serenading some White Leghorn hens a few blocks down Acacia Avenue.
You so good, Mister Barlowe.
Thanks, sugarino, I’ll be in touch.
To be continued….
March 12th, 2010 at 7:57 am
Dear Miss KJ,
Many years ago I happened to spend some time in Nottingham – home to Torvill & Dean before they made it.
In those days young Dean was a police constable and Torvill worked in a local hairdressing salon, or it could have been the other way around? – one gets a little confused…
ANYWAY, I’ve always been grateful to the one in uniform, especially after an unfortunate incident, a complete misunderstanding really, involving my good self and another person in what the poms like to call a public convenience….
I believe Your friend The Parrot experienced a similar misunderstanding in a London convenience some years ago……
The young Dean (for now I remember it was definitely he) handled my situation with the upmost sensitivity….he was such a stiking young fellow in his uniform.
Years later – when he became famous – I always thought ‘Bolero’ could have been taken up to a new level if performed in police uniforms…….
Just a thought from The Old Carnt.
And what a super thought it is The Old Carnt!
You may be interested to know that just yesterday I received news from my health insurer that ‘one hard neck brace per annum’ is now included in my policy….
Good tidings for me – and everyone else suffering a whole raft of ‘The Bolero Madness’ induced injuries. KJ.
March 12th, 2010 at 8:58 am
The case was open and shut, like a Dame’s purse….or her sugar daddy’s wallet.
A quick drive to Mr Big’s Palazzo in Griffith.
A trail of chicken pellets to his door.
His two goons were no trouble to this shamus.
It was like the Tennessee Bird Walk.
Mr Big was behind his desk, smoking his cheroot.
What’s bothrin’ you, Barlowe?
You’re in a mess, big fellow, and that starts with M, and it stands for Maltese.
There were no piranha in his fish tank, just chick pellets.
Under the couch I could see two beady eyes and a beak.
The beak and the eyes refused to come out.
It was the Maltese Baulkin……
To be continued.
March 13th, 2010 at 8:31 am
Grandpa is a-hepping in the outhouse with his braces down…….
And that means only one thing……
Leeton is all boogied out, hep cats on a hot tin roof…
Time to mosey on out before Acacia Avenue becomes Bourbon Street.
The End.
March 13th, 2010 at 3:22 pm
I’m leanin’ on the ATM,
Watchin’ all the girls go by……