Email to:Border Protection – The Hec Solution
Scattergun, grossly ineffective, ridiculous…..
Armchair critics on Hec’s Border Security Policy in relation to threatened domestic property, Acacia Avenue, Leeton, Australia.
The ugly truth? He NEVER had a chance - until he got tough, really, really TOUGH.
cr: gem:flickr
The reality is that over the years Hec’d put in place a seemingly impressive array of border protection measures.
…..One 14-inch-high prickly pear hedge, one foul-tempered toy guard dog, Bindy Boo Major, one torch and the piece de resistance, one Cocky Ross.
Strategically positioned in his re-inforced steel cage right next to the back door, Cocky Ross was the last line of defence: a tactical tour-de-force, a pre-emptive highly trained single cocky unit. Unsolicitored callers quickly became disorientated when, from the cage, emanated the eerie, repetitive command:
I’m Cocky Ross, P*** Off, I’m Cocky Ross, P*** Off, I’m Cocky Ross, P*** Off…….
Problem was that once the shock wore off, intruders declared Cocky Ross, delightful.
Subesquently, many an Electrolux Man, Riverina Virgin Hunter, Life Insurance Salesman or member of a Mobile Nun Pastoral Care SWAT Surveillance team decided they’d hang around, get to know Cocky Ross better. [Nun to nun: 'He's quite sweet, isn't he?']
So, around the clock, Hec’s fibro fortress – jam packed with priceless treasures, including five lovely virgins - was subject to scores of dramatic incursions…..
Electrolux men emptying buckets of rice bubbles and cow pats over the lounge room carpet to demonstrate sensational suction capabilities…
Life insurance salesmen [with jazzy ties and colossal signet rings] telling a terrified, goggle-eyed Gwennie that Hec’s beer consumption would surely ’have killed ten far stronger men by now’…..
And Avon ladies – who always looked liked they’d been exhumed - putting the wind up Gwennie even more by warning that if ’something’s NOT done about THE wrinkles’ she’d be lucky to even keep the man who (according to every actuarial graph) should be long dead.
But the most audacious of the belligerent border buccaneers?
The Virgin Hunters.
All day, Virgin Hunters were jumping over the prickly pear hedge, throwing Bindy Boo Major calming Bex baits, telling Cocky Ross to P*** Off in no uncertain terms – and KNOCKING on the door.
…..Ugly, barely presentable, handsome, good English skills [Gedday, where's Julie?] poor English skills [Gedday, where's ya big sister?] illegal [six 'Driving Under The Influence'/last six months] legal [my dad knows Hec] from exotic places [Griffith, Wagga] or from stuggling hamlets [Murrami, Wamoon].
Hec knew SOMETHING had to be done – and goddam it, if issues of political correctness or personal dignity got in the way of controlling the Virgin Hunters he’d be left looking like the mug he secretly feared he was.
The new policy?
Only SKILLED Virgin Hunters would be allowed in. Virgin Hunters who could – and most surely would – contribute……electricians, plumbers, builders, painters….even young men willing to put a bin out or cut a bit of wood.
And it worked.
Family records show that between 1972-1980 – the years when the creative Border Protection Policy was at its zenith – Virgin Hunters [ultimately getting nothing more than a pash and a pilsener] completely re-wired, re-painted, re-plumbed and put out 750 tonnes of rubbish ALL in the interests of keeping Hec’s fibro palace habitable.
Hard but fair.
And that Miss Gillard, is the cornerstone of all good policy.
************************************
My goodness, it’s certainly been a busy couple of weeks. Between getting a new fringe and keeping up with national dramas, it’s been exhausting but (just between you and me) invigorating as well.
A big welcome to our new, celebrity poster, ‘Red N’ Ready’ (whowoulddathought she’d make time for little ole us?)
And thanks also to members of the Riverina community who’ve snubbed their noses at any semblance of border control and have been jumping willy nilly right over the razor wire - and landing flat bang in kerriejean.com. Would also enjoy hearing from folks who love their hometowns….whether they be cities, regional centres, hamlets, railway sidings, volcanic craters……you name it.
One thing’s for sure - the vexed issue of border protection (of the mind in particular) will always be around. That’s my experience anyway………
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.
Prawn Cutlet Award
July 5th, 2010 at 3:46 pm
Loved your description of the Ross Emoh Ruo.
Moi?
If they’d brought in asbestos removalists there would have been nothing of our house left.
The rules of Australian domesticity?
Always hate ONE neighbour and grow a tall hedge.
If they move, hop over and remove all of their plants and chooks.
Dear Chadwick,
Great set of protocols…….
May I add one more, compliments of Hec?
ALWAYS walk the dog around the block in Y-fronts, socks and shoes. Keeps the neighbours at bay. KJ.
July 6th, 2010 at 8:51 am
KJ, was Hec a great listener to wife and daughters on the subject of fashion sense?
From my experience as soon as a man marries, his brand new sparkly wife will go through his closet – casting her critical eye over a wardrobe that pre-marriage was considered by new husband as quite cutting edge fashion wise.
Beloved garments were consigned to the Vinnies clothing bin as new wife then went shopping with new husband for more appropriate wife approved apparel.
Daughters are even more brutal, examining their dear fathers clothing before outings, arching eyebrows and with gestapo brutality and Colonel Klink accent:
Vere are you goink in zat Papa dear…..? Ve vill not be seen with you in zat!!!
Sometimes I thought that I was to be sent to the Russian front.
Dear Stoney Point,
I must say that Hec was pretty slick when it came to fashion – and he knew (and adhered to) the cardinal rule: ‘less is more’. Subsequently, only Y-fronts, socks and shoes when walking Bindy Boo Major.
On arriving home, he would (for reasons of dignity and appropriateness) don a white singlet.
Hec also dressed for the circumstances: Bookmaking: nifty hat with duck feather adornment, church: running shoes, footy: jacket, well-cut trousers and fine wool jumper (as befitting the Club President).
Unfortunately, Hec’s LANGUAGE was often NOT up to the quality of his garments at matches.
KJ.
July 6th, 2010 at 2:52 pm
Quite right, Stoney Point. A fellow has to keep on his toes if he wants to avoid being ‘made over’.
I well remember one of our teachers at Leeton High School (let’s call him Mr M) suddenly appearing in a succession of smooth outfits, all constructed along similar lines – smart slacks, long sleeved shirt in unobtrusive check, one of those thinnish knitted ties fashionable in the mid 80s – and all topped off with sleeveless pullover.
We quizzed him on his sharp new look and he confessed that his then-newish girlfriend (also a teacher at LHS) had gone on a secret buying spree at *Lloyd Pilkington’s, hidden the loot, then waited until he was out at cricket one Saturday afternoon, emptied out his wardrobes, burned every scrap of his clothing on a backyard bonfire, and replaced it with the natty new vines.
Dear Roma Street,
As if Stoney Point isn’t quaking in his fave desert boots ENOUGH – without you coming in here with tales of ritual trouser sacrifice, toxic shirt polyester fumes engulfing a picturesque town, Y-front bonfires burning late into the night…..
Poor Mister M – innocent victim of the SLEEVELESS pullover!
If ever a garment should be subject to strict border control, this is it…….makes men look like half-shorn merinos and I always feel the urgent neeed to finish the job.
* For many decades, Leeton’s prestigious outfitter to men – regardless of body shape, income or marital status.
By the way Roma Street, have you managed to conquer the Jerilderie plain and proceed in an orderly fashion to Leeton yet? (Lots of good suggestions for your schedule in the last thread). KJ.
July 6th, 2010 at 4:57 pm
I wear sleeveless jumpers.
I like them.
I feel good in them.
Dear The Dude,
Sometimes we persist in doing things which we know to be inappropriate, counterproductive or even downright wrong…….
We keep doing them because we feel safe – when the opposite is true.
You are a danger to yourself and the community.
It’s up to you to decide whether you want to live your life as a half-shorn merino – or an adult. KJ.
July 7th, 2010 at 12:23 pm
Desert Boots…oh my !!!
KJ and Roma,what misty-eyed memories. Loved the Desert boots and later went full force into the land of tasteful shoes, buying myself a pair of Ciaks…Bliss…….
Dear Stoney Point,
I’m very, very pleased to hear that you purchased a pair of Ciaks – WHATEVER they are…….
I am Ciak ignorant.
So concerned that I may have missed something big I went into e-bay to see if I could bid on Ciaks, only to be told there were 0 available.
The Ciak Seeker.
July 7th, 2010 at 8:10 pm
Came downstairs as An Act Of Courage…….
Saw the posts…….
Desert boots and sleeveless jumpers – my kinda thing .
(Matinee idol material)
Back upstairs to the man-eatin’ doona.
If anyone would like to sashay down Sunset Boulevard with a desert boot wearing, sleeveless jumpered The Knuckle, please contact him directly. KJ.
July 8th, 2010 at 6:51 am
Hello darling,
Have you been shakin yu legs lately?
Very Strange really because The Ginger Man who I know is a stalwart (not sure of the species) has referred in the past to: Pretonius of Pine Avenue.
– I grew up in Pine Avenue
– 237 in fact.
Best Place on the Planet. More adventures than u could poke the proverbial stick at and more sex than Rin Tin Tin.
More Shepherds than sheep could poke sticks at.
Petronius (Of Pine Avenue)
(Not) Petronius of Pine Avenue,
Imposters! The scourge of honest bloggers, honest twitterers/twatterers, honest bumbookers everywhere…….
You are NOT from Leeton and you do NOT live at 237 Pine Avenue (which happens to be the Christian Bookshop).
EVERYONE in Leeton knows the real Mr Petronius – he’s a wonderful chap, a real community man.
……Continental cars, gold larme safari suits, host of elaborate prawn cutlet suppers and a good friend/fashion advisor to Mr Nero – of Wamoon.
KJ.
July 8th, 2010 at 7:39 am
Ciaks came out mid 80s.
They were a soft boater style shoe and had wifely approval. Wifely approval being on a par with an imprimateur from the Holy Se.
Dear Stoney Point,
Sound very suss to me.
HOWEVER, at least Ciaks are NOT clogs. A non-Dutch man wearing clogs should be (as Hec would say) locked up. KJ.
July 8th, 2010 at 10:18 am
Yiasou! I am Mr Petronius.
You are…..?
July 9th, 2010 at 1:17 am
Aha, Anna Chapmanski, I am awake to your Russian games.
Do you think as a former Bletchley Park agent I shall be affected by your curves, your sensitive movements, your sidelong glance, the sudden swivel of your hips? Your hair, your skin? Your fragrance?
Under torture, I cry out like the White Rabbit:
Non, non, non. Vraiment, non!
http://www.smh.com.au/world/prisoner-swap-plans-as-11-charged-over-spying-20100708-102ba.html
July 9th, 2010 at 7:52 pm
We haf vays of making you torque, Lord Ginge.
Dear The Dude,
I don’t think we do, I just don’t think we do……KJ.
July 11th, 2010 at 2:13 pm
Hi team,
Win an all expenses paid trip to Leeton courtesy the ABC! We’re looking for a cool title for our comedy series – give us yer vote or idea now.
Dirt change.
Home attractions.
Dirt attractions.
Pigeons and poodles in the Riverina.
Home and deranged.
Bless my irrigation channel.
KJ does the Riverina.
On all platforms.
July 12th, 2010 at 6:36 pm
My proposed title for the comedy series is:
Channelbanking.
Dear Roma Street,
Roger that! cc:The Producer. Thank you. KJ.