Down Under..bit Long But It's Rainin..

[David006]

An expat Tale.....very much pre PC

He is of emaciated build with the grey skinned pallor of a city dweller, he has thinning straw coloured hair, his dress, to his mind appropriate, consists of a khaki bush shirt and overly long khaki shorts underpinned with knee socks and ex army desert boots; the shirt is freshly ironed, the shorts have ironed seams and the boots are well kept. The ensemble gives him an appearance somewhat like that of a clothed underfed broomstick.

The scene is a Mount Isa, a mining town in the state of Queensland on that antipodean continent named Australia.

Our hero enters a bar frequented by the miners in a less than pristine part of the town, the rowdy, smoke filled bar smelling of stale beer, tobacco and urine, goes silent. Our hero orders a Gin and Tonic with ice which causes a rowdy display of mirth among the patrons.

A rather large and somewhat uncouth, hairy backed miner decides to make some sport of this newcomer.

Our miner approaches our hero and gives him a hearty slap on the back spilling his libation and eliciting more universal mirth.

'G'day mate what can we do for you then'

Our hero turns to the miner and offers his hand. 'Hello sir, my name is Geoffrey Smithe from Stoke Newington in England and I am the new accountant at the mine'

'Really mate... well that is just bloody great but don't ya think you may be better off in Brisbane with all the other tossers' and poofters?.....more mirth.

Our hero looks him in the eye... not an easy task since it required him to stand on the rung of the bar stool.

'Actually I am extremely tired of people thinking and telling me I am a boring accountant tosser, thus I decided to come to Australia to escape being tarred with such epithets. I have arrived 6 months prior to my appointment date and intend to become, as one might say, a real ocka true blue, digger Aussie, I hope to achieve this prior to taking up my position'

Well, this confident forthright talk took our miner somewhat aback and he, softening as far as his esteem in his company would allow, decided to help, in his eyes, this somewhat pathetic POME bastard.

Miner: 'Well mate if ya really want to be a true blue Aussie there are three things which will go a along way tward it'

'And what may they be' says our hero.

'Well first off ditch that Sheila drink and buy a jug of beer and which it's your shout mate'

Our hero: 'I am more than willing to accede to this request; however I am not familiar with any Sheila or a shout'

Our miner explains and our hero buys the beer for himself and the bar.

Our hero: 'may I enquire sir as to the other two actions which you suggest I should perform'?

'Well mate, see here, what ya need to do is go out and shoot yourself a Big Red and then screw the arse off a Bong'....more mirth.

Our hero: 'As I said I am from the British Isles and am not familiar with either a Big Red or a Bong as these words in the English language are somewhat obscure to me, pray explain if you please'

Miner: 'Okay me cobber.. a Big Red is a bloody great roo and a Bong is, as ya might say, an Abo' of the female persuasion'

Our hero drinks up and departing amidst the mirth he remarks: 'ah I think I understand, thank you indeed'.

6 months later...location as previously described.

A stocky individual, muscle bound, his skin is deeply tanned with the appearance of leather; he is wearing what is often called, in modern parlance, a wife beater singlet and very tight short shorts. On his feet he is wearing the Australian icon of Blundstone boots without socks. On his head he wears a somewhat dirty and deformed, holed felt hat with no perceivable brim somewhat like a pancake thrust upon his head which has been pulled down upon his crown and folded in waves at the edges. His shirt and shorts are dirty, torn and blood stained, his boots are worn and scuffed. His face is scarred; he has a broken nose and a piece missing from his right ear, his head is shaven, his face is not. His right arm, however, bears the pallor of a recently removed splint or caste, it is under this arm he carries a package, neatly wrapped in newspaper secured by a piece of blue ribbon.

He pushes is way through the throng in the bar swearing and threatening those who are in his path, he slams his fist on the bar and demands a jug of beer. The barman places the jug and a glass in front of him. Ignoring the glass the newcomer tilts back his head and sinks the whole jug without a breath and demands it be refilled.

We now have the patrons' attention.

Now at this time of day there are often the same patrons frequenting this establishment and as in the first part of our story there is present at this time the same large miner previously described.

Our miner to the newcomer: 'bloody hell mate what happened to you?.. Here let me shout you a drink you look like ya bloody need it'

Newcomer: 'well thank you mate you're a legend indeed'

Miner: what's ya name mate, ain't seen you in 'ere afore?...so what's your story d'ya mind tellin' me and me mates.....the bar is all ears.'.?.

Newcomer: ' My name is Geoff and I have come to take up my position as accountant at the mine'

Miner: bloody hell mate, is it really you, .. barman another jug for our mate here...so what happened?

The reader must now recognise our hero so we refer to him as such.

Our Hero: 'well I took your advice and went bush, I found a Big Red and a Bong as you suggested.

Miner: 'goodonya mate...so you're a real Aussie now eh mate, welcome home'

Our hero: ' maybe so but I failed in one regard'

Miner: 'ow's sat mate?'

Our hero: 'well I could not reconcile with my conscience to shoot the Bong after she had steadfastly nursed me back to health'

At this point in our story the astute reader may well be thinking what about the package...?

It is thus:

Our hero continues to consume copious quantities of beer...

At some point, after several hours perhaps, he removes the aforementioned package from under his previously injured arm.

He places the package upon the bar...silence again from the patrons who remain....

He carefully removes the blue ribbon and carefully unwraps the package.

The contents are exposed, the barman/owner looses his breakfast, and his daughter grabs her doll and runs back to the safety of a rear room perhaps. Other patrons seek a quick exit.

The barman's wife is stoic she is of hardier stuff; her great grandfather was transported for stealing a loaf of bread worth two pence at that time.

Arms akimbo under her ample yet pendula breasts, she just stands and stares at the contents now laid bare on the bar.........

[BookMan]

Can someone crib note this for me? Please?

[mauGR1]

The not so astute reader is wondering what was there in the package ?

[Morakot]

OP going for a record in number of words?

[loong]

OP going for a record in number of words?

Yet not enough to complete the story