KerrieJean.com

DON’T dare tell me this is a Democracy……..

Not when millions of law abiding, line dancing country people are denied a basic right – to exciting, even mildly interesting, elections.

This Saturday will be NO different.

Take for example the seat of Shorthorn……….

Shorthorn constituents - ‘we pay our bloody taxes’ will be, as per usual, shouting ‘BOUT TIME at  tellies when Kerry O’B or Antony G deign mention that sitting member Murray Grey (Nat) has defied Science, God and a local locust plague  to be returned for the 19th time with an increased majority of 98 percent.

[Door knocking in the seat of Shorthorn - cr: Robert Scarth: flickr]

This time though, it was Murray’s personal crusade  – for community fundraising barbeques serving local roadkill, that really resonated.

[KO'B] And what’s that up on the tally board? Something new! Antony?

Indeed Kerry. This is the first time since Federation that the Greens have fielded a candidate in the seat of Shorthorn. Jacinta Buckley is an organic truffle grower. She moved to Shorthorn last week with her Immigration lawyer husband, Jeremy. Jacinta’s picked up 000000000000.4% with a couple of truffles still unaccounted for.

And Labor?

Indeed Kerry. This is the 16th time the sole Labor councillor in the electorate of Shorthorn, sewage plant middle manager, Will Power, has contested Shorthorn.

As usual, he’s run on his ‘ Meet The By-Pass Man’ slogan. Will wants 23 By-Passes built in Shorthorn by the turn of the century and he wants local hospitals to do By-Passes so people feigning heart attacks will stop using the Flying Doctor Service for shopping excursions……

Will always picks up about 0.0000007% and it’s NO different this time……

Indeed Antony. And we’ll leave Shorthorn at that…..

So, come Saturday when you’re connnected to plasma drips and tellies feeling important because Kerry and Antony are close to self-combustion when YOUR seat comes up for scrutiny for the 124th time, spare a thought for the people in Shorthorn -  forlorn, forgotten…….

*Just quietly though, word is that Will Power’s traditional election night DEFEAT party is a ripper!

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So, I trust you’re all itching for an exciting week….Gwennie is. She’s predicting a colossal swing to Labor of 0.000000002 percent in her shorthorn seat of Riverina. Good luck Gwennie!

*KJ’s Poll Week Pro-Democracy Week Cover*

Continuous coverage all week from kerriejean.com’s diplomatic & political correspondent, Under The Table Top Man (UTTTM).

[Cr Trevor Coultart: flickr]

UTTTM has been under the table where and when it’s counted – the Treaty of Versailles, Mark Latham’s fortieth, Kevin Rudd’s gall bladder surgery, Ikea’s Spring catalogue launch……..

AND he’ll be under the table for you all this week.

So, follow UTTM’s under the table reports right up to and including Poll Day 2010 (in comments section).

And, of course, your world doesn’t stop while ‘Australia Decides’. On the contrary. So, please report in with news from your patch. It really is important – to me (and my bosses).

Poignant memories of country elections past would not only be welcomed but treasured…… 

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

Whowoulddathought?

Talk about social mobility……

The cream of Hec and Gwennie’s five lovely daughters – the very pretty, reasonably intelligent and quite popular Julie-Ellen, has taken possession of a golden Holden Statesman.

You heard right: Statesman!

(Traditional country leisure motoring: Cr: Ferenghi: flickr)

Big beautiful lines, petrol consumption to make Bob Brown weep, colossal leather seats ( go on, go on….fly me to the moon and let me play upon the stars), enough leg room for Magic Johnson in prosthetic stilettos and a monumental teak dash chockablock with gizmos including a gobsmacking array of not warning but congratulatory  lights.  

…..’Congratulations, you’ve just smashed the land speed record’, ‘Congratulations, your fuel consumption is officially morally reprehensible’, ‘Congratulations, you’re shamelessly fanging a Big Prestige Car In A Big Prestigious Country!’.

So, it may have taken 50 years, but in terms of country leisure motoring, we have arrived……

We have among us a vessel of conveyance once reserved for members of the obscenely wealthy (albeit excessively whingeing) Rice Farming Class. And make no mistake, their consumption of Statesmen (and the Ford counterparts, Fairlanes) was extremely conspicuous………

*Tearing up the elegant boulevard that is Pine Avenue…

*Duelling with hyperventilating  Hilman Minx-driving spinsters for premium parking spots…… ..

*Perpetuating preposterous rumours of ‘ making it under two’ (hours) to Geelong Grammar (in line with family traditions of outsourcing loved ones). 

*Displaying perverse/reverse pretensions including dumping 44 gallon drums of rice blight fighting pesticides on beautifully crafted leather seats………

Making me to sick to the stomach.

BUT all the while, promising myself:

‘One day we’re gonna get a Statesman and we’re gonna treat the magnificent baby with respect.’

So, when Julie-Ellen tore into Leeton  – avec Statesman - when I was in residence on my recent ABC freebie (sorry assignment), what happened?

Firstly, we adjourned to the carport in respectful silence…

Stood gaping at the golden Statesman. Gesticulating with understated nodding .  Then, we peered through the windows. Continued nodding …..

Then we were in the magnificent baby……..

Maintaining respecful silence…….

Then my legs were in the air. Head room test. 

Then we were purring along…

Then roaring up Pine Avenue – up the main, around the monument to The Fallen, down the main, up the main, around the monument to The Fallen, up the main, down the main…..

Then we availed ourselves to the Statesman’s very fine sound system.  Tested its operating specifications to the max.

I was finally LAPPING in a Statesman!!!!!!!

…..And giving the splendid set of circumstances all the respect they most surely demanded…..

Ed’s note: As The Pacific Rim’s nerviest motorist, I don’t drive except  during what I call my  ’demonstration two kilometres’ when I’m home. 

But, I will keep my licence up to date because my natural inkings are towards the humanitarian. So, if a poor bugger is looking for a heart of gold or beautifully proportioned kidney and I’m in the unfortunate position of not needing them anymore, they can go to it!

*For interested parties, our lapping soundtrack was this (Ross girls long time lapping classic. *Has to be on minimum volume 9.5  to get what I’m talking about).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtuyYAL-nNY&feature=PlayList&p=177852B7113CC758&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=60

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Gee, I wish I lapping in Julie-Ellen’s big Statesman right now. Isn’t it lovely when dreams come true?

*I was just reading that – after a few years of superb Rice Farmer whingeing conditions (no water, no water, no water)  the latest crop projections are for  BUMPER harvests. That’s good. 

….As long as we all watch closely those new Hummers when stepping onto the main pedestrian crossing on the elegant Boulevard St Pine.

*It’d be very nice to hear from you….. as per usual, all report backs on all topics welcome……..

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.

Dateline: Sydney, Australia, Friday June 11th, 2010.

Got back from Leeton Wednesday night but have only just woken up.

Still a bit iffy.

Low cumulus cover and one thunder clap at Wagga Wagga Airport set off a traditional free-floating pre-flight nervy. The last thing I remember is downing a handful of valium and ringing Gwennie to tell her how much I loved her……new perm.

What a wonderful trip!

I went to Leeton as a Woman and came back – still a Woman but with two high tech sound cards chock-a-block with honest, hard-working locals speaking openly of their hopes, dreams, fears, extra-marital affairs, water allocations, favourite rice recipes (Rice Medley, Festive Rice Ring) and deeply spiritual quests.

I asked everyone who gave so freely of their time:  Does God Know Leeton Exists?

A quick scan of my notes shows the community is split 50-50. But, I can break the deadlock – and I will!  Yes, yes, YES God knows Leeton exists and He sent his only draftsman Walter Burley Griffin to save it.

Highlights of the ‘embedded in Leeton’  freebie….sorry, ASSIGNMENT.

*The superb professionalism of The Producer. She wouldn’t let me smoke while conducting interviews and, in retrospect, I think her directive was harsh – but probably right in the circumstances.

*The raid on the Leeton-Whitton Crows dressing sheds on Sunday. So powerful was the testosterone aura I fainted and had to be carried out on a stretcher.

*Brazilian Wax, Tresses Salon. Don’t know why I didn’t have one years ago. Feel like Eve in The Garden Of Eden - Pre Original Sin.

Anyway, still a little disorientated…

AND there’s still so much heavy lifting to do for the upcoming kerriejean.com multi-platform series. 

I told The Producer I trusted her implicitly and was – albeit reluctantly – prepared to leave the editing, post-production, scripting, voiceover, on-line design, twittering, Facebook inserts and crazy rounds of pre-publicity interviews to her but she said:

Fat Chance!

Back to bed. Wobble, wobble, wobble……..[memo to self: see detox professional tomorrow if balance still not quite right]

Read on for the Leeton ’on location’ report……. 

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Memories – like the calling of a name, misty water coloured memories - of the way weez were……

Dear, dear kerriejean.com supporters it is now 97 hours since I flew Air Valium from Sydney to the Riverina where I’m darting around – with Australia’s most experienced out-of-work comedy producer - plucking out material for my upcoming ground breaking multi-platform series. 

All funded by YOU.

What, WHAT can I say to convince you that the hired Hyundai hatchback, the prawn cutlet platters, the crazy round of rice paddy visits, the explosive reunions with old flames – and hard edged journalism - are a valid use of YOUR hard earned money?

Perhaps this piece of (visual) evidence?

(The centrepiece of Walter Burley Griffin’s vision for Leeton: Band Rotunda, Chelmsford Place. Cr: Shirmax: flickr)

Or perhaps this (non-visual) snippet?

*Could it have been only Saturday that I was running the gauntlet in Banna Avenue Griffith, investigating reports of Organised Swearing in a city which continues to refuse to lance its boils, cut out the cancer eating away at its very heart – AND giving the Australian television viewing public – with its insatiable appetite for stories which speak to the very heart of who we are – the best night in since ‘My Name’s McGooley, What’s Yours?’

All in all, a personal and professional rollercoaster……..

…..Which today threatens to reach new and dizzying heights with a vist to the world famous bird watchers’ paradise, the Fivebough Swamp, Bog And Wetlands.  

My host is none other than Mr Brent Lawrence whose seminal presentation ‘Leeton In Sixty Seconds’ is shown, discussed and debated at tourism industry seminars worldwide.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdacvI0uRMU&feature=related

Today though, just two questions for Mr Lawrence:

The first:

So Mr Lawrence the Siberian Cranes come all the way from Russia – but why won’t a bloke even come 20 kms from Whitton to take me out?

I have no doubt Mr Lawrence will answer in the manner of the consumate professional he is.

But like most difficult interviews, I will leave my most controversial question to last.

Mr Lawrence, do you identify with the matinee idol, Forrest Tucker, who it is said loved nature in spite of what it did to him?

Apologies for such a quick report back….

It’s all go, go, GO.

My appointment book shows just for this morning – Mr Lawrence, ‘I Love Leeton’ intimate tattoo application, Walter Burley Griffin Memorial Water Towers re-enactment (Leeton High School students will be Tower 1, St Francis College students, Tower 2), Observation platform: Sunwhite Rice Cake processing line – Leeton Rice Mills.

As usual (sigh, sigh, sigh), I will still punch out a small hole in my windows of opportunities to read your posts.

Love to hear what’s happening in your patch (sigh, sigh, sigh) but to be honest I can’t think of anything that could beat what I’ve got going here.

Another thing – since I’ve been in Leeton I’m noticing a great improvement in my facial wrinkles and general jowl line. Gwennie (mum) says it because I’m packing on the weight but I truly think it’s more to do with my plummeting stress levels. You be the judge when the photos go up……

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.

KJ’s OFFICIAL RIVERINA TOUR SCHEDULE ANNOUNCED!

(If you haven’t read the story at the end of this schedule please do so in the interests of comprehension)

Official Schedule:

Friday June 4th – 8:30am. Flight: Air Valium, Sydney-Wagga Wagga. 

Arrive Wagga Wagga 9:30am: Detox. Hire car to Holbrook. Secret (recorded) counselling session with resident Sister of St Joseph.

Friday, June 4th, 6pm. Triumph entry into Leeton. Ceremonial Booze Bus escort. Prawn Cutlet Reception, Leeton RSL.

Sat, June 5th, 11pm. Six-hour Pine Avenue  traditional lapping session in pink 1982 Holden panel van. *Official Cystic Fibrosis Rally car no 181.

Sun, June 6th, 1pm. Historic (for gender reasons) raid on the Leeton-Whitton Crows Australian Rules Football Club’s  ’rub down’ and pre-match hype up sheds - Leeton Showgrounds. 

Sunday, June 6th, 2pm. Front row deluxe grandstand seat (cushion provided), Leeton-Whitton Crows V Narrandera Imperial Eagles.

Sun, June 6th, 10pm. ‘Leeton By Night’ - Roo Shooting,  Brobenah Hills.

Tuesday, June 8th, 10:30 am. Full-body waxing session,  full-body body piercing,  full-body Juju Bed toxin removal, Tresses Salon, Pine Avenue Leeton.

Wednesday, June 8th: 3:oopm. Flight: Air Valium, Wagga Wagga-Sydney. Detox.

*  Just in: The Rev Kev releases KJ tour statement (see comments section).

* Pre Schedule Release Story below…..

It’s pathetic – even criminal – when self-obsession gets the upper hand.

Truly, I cannot believe I ever wrote this:

Kerrie Jean desperately wants you to participate in this blog.

At this time of life, another failure could be catastrophic. (September, 2008)

(KJ: ‘I am willing to strip myself bare…’ credit: Tracey Trompf)

Looking back, how silly, how childish because Boy O Boy have I got news!

Simply put, I am in receipt of a Highly Stimulatin’ Development Package from ABC Management. It’s a ‘no strings’ proposition and (just quietly) comes at the end of a  ‘take no prisoners’  dog-eat-dog competitive process.

Beat that!

If I felt like it, I could build a new ‘Kerriejean.com Trans Fat  Tuckshop’ at Leeton Primary School, I could a fund a Grong Grong bolt hole for my lesbian lover - or I could blow taxpayers’ monies on a couple of vials of botox or derma filler. 

*Ed’s note:  Just so you know I’m not kidding, I did secretly self-fund three vials of derma filler three months ago.

For the record – and if you’re a case of ‘derma filler just waiting to happen’ - the sixteen 52-centimetre-long  pre derma filler face deadening needles going right through my right lower cheek and emerging out the other did hurt a bit. 

But still, no pain, no gain.

In fact, so natural, so non-intrusive was my $1200 worth of Australian made derma filler, no one noticed any difference.  And that’s what you want, is it not?

Anyway, now is now and (can you believe it?) on Friday I’ll be jetting to the Riverina with a full set of jowls, a producer with more laughter lines than Charlie Chaplin - and enough hard cash to stay in whatever motels we want within a 1098 kilometre radius of Wagga Wagga.

Pacific Rim populace – in unison:

What for? It’s afterall my money you’re playing with? [I knew this'd come up, I just knew it.....sigh, sigh, sigh]

‘ALL RIGHT, steady on….to…to….to…bloody well collect what we call in the business ‘material’ for a groundbreaking on-airable, podcastable, on- lineable, twatable, facebookable, multi-platformable, demountable, Walkley Awardable COMEDY series.’

Thank you KJ, but I’m NOT convinced…..

Maybe you just wanna get outta town? 

……Things a ‘little hot’ presently?  Got a meta-narrative? Got a through line? Got ANYTHING on paper?

‘Thank you for asking Pacific Rim populace.  Just so happens I do…….[sigh, sigh, sigh]

The meta-narrative is that I’ve never understood why most Australians don’t think about - let alone have real affection - for Leeton.

So, I’m going to emotionally (and physically) strip myself naked in an attempt to discover whether my enduring – even crazed love – is based on cheap nostalgia  or something much more…….’

……Perhaps even – from teenagehood - my pathological inability to create a new and viable adult life…..

(Oh God, oh God, I’ve said it). 

So confronting is all this, the other day I broke down in my producer’s arms:

I truly don’t mind being stripped bare at every turn, but I fear peeling myself back only to find – like a cling peach on a canning line -  that I have no core.

Producer:  Shut up KJ! Even if you don’t conclude you’ll go back to Leeton to live, would you consider going there to die…?

God, this is hard. But I if I continue to peel myself back just a little every day, things could work out…..

So, while I write – freezing in just my sports brassiere and cottontails - this is what I’ve (potentially) got lined (potentially) up (potentially) thus far……

*Brazilian wax (Friday). Producer: Good work! I’m surprised you found someone to do it.

*Trip to Griffith to find someone to help me get back the $1200 dollars I blew on the derma filler (Tuesday).

*Visit to the Leeton-Whitton Crows dressing shed (Sunday). I sidled in there once as a teenager when post-match ’rubbing down’ was underway – only to be told that if I ever did it again, police would be called.

….I’d like to know, HAVE to know, whether things have changed re Riverina spatial gender relations.

What YOU can do to help with this project:

*Pray that the prop jet makes it to Wagga Wagga and that I keep my traditional in-flight valium dose right on the knife edge that is just between comatose and a panic induced front page making in-flight incident. 

*Tell everybody that KJ is striking a blow for women of a certain age and it’d be a crying shame if she peeled herself right back to her very core – and no-one gave a damm.

Finally, everyone can look forward to hearing from (and seeing a lot more of) my new manager, Jim.  He’s got his whole life ahead of him. I don’t think I could live with myself if I ruined that.

******So, a very special day for kerriejean.com, particularly when it comes to value adding. All reports from your patch welcome, plus the EXTRA pressure of suggestions for THE project. This is what you do:

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.

Last night, I dreamt I was back in Mrs R’s winter parlour.

So good it was I awoke this morning with that tell tale residue of contentment on my pillow - Dribble, Dribble, Dribble……

The scene, the Dribble Driver?

Five girls and Mrs Ross, Leeton’s answer to Mrs Bennet only without the pride, without the prejudice.

In the parlour, Mrs Ross (in modest sleep attire) is propped up in her purple lounge chair (with faux gold legs) just to the side of the colossal fireplace. 

(Cr: KayVee.INC: flickr)

She’s busy.

Between doing running repairs on the pink, blue and yellow plastic rollers dotting her skull, she’s on high fire alert. 

NO need to remind her the Riverina has the most dangerous (read ‘driest’) domestic fossil fuels in Australia.

No need at all. For during the harsh winters, Mrs R is known as Leeton’s niftiest one-officer domestic fire fighting unit.

Come late May, Captain Mrs R is putting the finishing touches on her parlour fire plan:  one enamel water bucket (full),  one poker, one huge square of already burnt out carpet overlayed on the ‘good stuff’ and one old rubber soled slipper.

Come early June, the fireplace is in full swing. No one hears the television as blocks of  rare red river gum explode, propelling showers of big cinders (Grade: ’Catastrophic’) straight over the grate.

Captain Mrs R’s five girls do not react. They’re  in various states of  petulant teenager repose – their fire resistant flannelette pyjamas covered by jaunty fire attractant poly vinyl dressing gowns .

Ugly exemplars of ‘Every Girl For Herself’.

So, it’s Captain Mrs R who’s (again) putting herself on the line for her hysterical ne’r-do-wells who (all of a sudden) are yelling and swearing and pushing each other into the parlour spot fires.

And our Captain faces hard decisions that no one should ever have to make. Like: 

* Should the ONE rubber-soled slipper be used NOW on the spot fire threatening the HMV TV?  (rosewood cabinet, sourced in Perth, transported to the parlour long before the Nullabor was sealed….)

*Should the ONE bucket of water be used NOW on the Riverina’s most foul tempered pet, Bindi Boo Major, who (as usual) had been basking flat out (Portugese chicken style)  far too close to the furnace?  He’s taking the worst cinder hits. Gone ballistic.

And most worrying of all……

*Should our adrenaline-driven Captain be concerned about what she THINKS is the terrible smell of melting plastic on her person? Could it be that a cinder has lodged in a roller and is doing its foul and dangerous work?

This is a potentiality that CANNOT be contemplated……

So, while her brood continues to humiliate itself with selfish, anti-cinder-defeating bleatings –  ’Am I on fire?’, ‘Am I on fire?’,  ’Am I on fire?’  ’Git away’, ‘GIT AWAY’! – Captain Mrs R commands:

‘Get these rollers out of my hair, get them out. NOW!!.’

It is as if time stops.

And then, the n’er-do-wells start acting like the tight firefighting unit Captain Mrs R had always prayed for.

Knowing that what they’re about to do will hurt their Captain – but knowing that it has to be done – has imbued a sense of purpose, even maturity.

Within eight seconds, there’s a pile of plastic rollers on the fire floor. 

And with eyes still bulging with pain, the Captain goes to work like never before.

Within three crucial minutes, Leeton’s most lusted after television has been saved (slipper work), all spot fires have been extinguished (slipper and bucket work), a singed Bindi Boo Major is back to his usual foul self and only one of the fire attractant dressing gowns has been rendered no longer fit for personal use (duster bag material).

The fire Captain assumes her possie.

And we are warm against the freezing temperatures that are the hallmark of the Murrumbigee Irrigation Area, NSW.

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Isn’t it a shame that people don’t have raging open parlour fires anymore?

Apparently, the last bastion is Launceston. But, I seem to remember reading that authorities want to stop the fun because of air quality or somesuch. One thing I can tell you. When Captain Mrs R finally succumbed to the power and mystery of THE oil burner (her nerves finally went) things just weren’t as cosy.

So, love to hear about your winter domestic firefighting activities…..or perhaps you had (or have) other equally powerful family rituals that made (make) you feel loved and cosseted…….

And, as we all know, it’s a ‘free-for-all’ in here – a heady mix of the personal, the political - and sometimes,  just meaningless tilts towards gross stupidity. Bravo! 

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

Could this be the best ever obit for a (non-Riverina) Bachelor…….?

‘It is not known whether Max Whitehead was ever besieged by couples seeking to have him sire their children – the experience of Charles Atlas – but Max Whitehead, the original model for Chesty Bond, was known to have a ‘quick sidestep’.

Blessed with a glorious physique, he also excelled at using it, as a surf lifesaver, rugby league player and wrestler…

Like Chesty Bond of the cartoon world, he rescued damsels in distress…..

Max Riddington, a one-time captain and president of the Manly Surf Life Saving Club, said Whitehead never married because of his sidestep (evasive action). ”He had some lovely ladies but he felt that sort of life was not for him,” Riddington said.’

*Please, please click ‘ere for the full Max Whitehead tribute or you might not understand my piece which (just quietly) I spent quite a bit of time on….. 

http://www.smh.com.au/national/obituaries/chesty-bond-was-a-gentle-giant-20100502-u1an.html

Now, back to me………

Mister Chesty Bond!

What a guy! What a bod! What demeanour! And how’s that ‘quick sidestep’? Sure wish I was a good 30 years older……

Thing is though, let’s not get too carried away. For the reality is there were other trailblazing Bachelor Chesty Bonders in Leeton when I still Miss No Chesty Nothin’.

(Leeton’s Bachelor Chesty Bonders’ Convention 1967: Cr: Magic Liwanag: flickr)

Thing is, they’ve never had their due – until now.

Sadly (at best) the Riverina Bachelor Chesty Bonders were barely tolerated: allowed, even encouraged, to buy tickets in family hamper raffles but denied the booty if their numbers came up.  At worst, Bachelor Chesty Bonders were treated cruelly, ostracised:

[Wazza to Wife Barb] ’There’s no waaay, no waaaay Rod’s comin’ to the barbie….NO WAAAY….. 

I’m NOT gunna sit there watchin’ you hangin’ off his every word AND humiliatin’ me mates by (you Barb) givin’ him the best T-Bone.  No waay, NO WAAAY!’

*Ed’s note: Please be aware that the demographic in kerriejean’s spotlight today is heterosexual Bachelor Chesty Bonders.

By age 18, the other single Leeton Chesty Bonders were all gone. Flushed parents told anyone who’d listen how well Neil was doing at Art School in Melbourne. Having a ball in digs shared with Qantas stewards called Justin or Tim.

The truth?

Neil would never be home again, not even for Christmas. He was (with good reason) scared for his very life if he ever dared re-embrace his hometown. 

Meanwhile – despite Wazza’s misgivings -  our other Bachelor Chesty Bonders had NO intention of being run out Leeton.

Quite the opposite.

These bons vivants aimed to – and did – provide superb community service.

Because – despite Wazza’s misgivings – there were married women sporting the most powerful combo of characteristics known to humankind: audacity and desperation. 

For them, the Bachelor Chesty Bonders – whose primal appetites were  dramatically juxtaposed by their civilized taste in jazzy sports jackets and spectacularly striped ties - were Godsends. 

Some well-known Bachelor Chesty Bonders even assumed the rarified status of ‘Dancing Partner’.

AND the wondrous thing?

Wazza could raise all Hell all day every day if he felt so inclined, BUT there was a question he would never EVER dare ask:  Namely:

Has my Pantswoman Barb fallen for Pantsman Rod? (Rod in the brightly coloured moccasins….)

*Ed’s note. For kerriejean, journalistic ethics have always been far more than glossy pamphlets. 

So, in the interests of full disclosure, she’s compelled to point out that Hec was the Riverina’s Bachelor Of The Decade six times!  He was in his mid-thirties when a bright little sexpot called Gwennie brought his illustrious bachelor career to a screaming halt.

Very, very late for ‘the times’…

And kerriejean is anxious to impart that Hec was NEVER anybody’s dancing partner. When Gwennie came bursting through his heart he accepted that the world (as he knew and loved it) would come crashing down. BUT, he was to regain it (and more!) when human rights groups put an end to the draconian six o’clock pub closing rules.

In the meantime:

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the beautiful Riverina take your partners for the Al Grassby Quick (Side) Step! ’

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*As in the bloggers’ lot throughout the world, I await news……..

Particularly interested in hearing from contemporary Pantsmen and Pantswomen who want to pay tribute to those who chose the lifestyle when it wasn’t easy at all.  Things may be great for YOU but that doesn’t mean the pioneering Pantsmen and Pantswomen shouldn’t be acknowledged.

And – as usual - I’d love report backs from the nooks and crannies that constitute your lives. Thanks to the new posters who’ve come in here of late. Appreciated? SURE!   

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