It’s pretty rare for a comment at Blunty to get nixed on legal grounds. Even rarer on matters of, uh, taste. (There is rumoured to be a guide to such things somewhere, but I’ve never seen it).
Mostly when comments don’t appear they ended up in the spam trap and got zapped before I could reach them. Even my comments suffer that fate everyone now and then when I’m on the road and don’t have access to the back room publishing software.
Anyway, this one by Ysambart got legaled out of contention because it appears to advocate a criminal activity. S’pretty funny but.
For the hippy types, a cupfull of rum will put them out like a light.
For the chest beating types, you pop the trap underwater.
>> Take a 9 iron up with you into the ceiling
The 9 iron is too long for roof work, and a killing hit will likely break it. Broomstick with a spike gets blood everywhere, and cleaning a roof cavity is a pain. If you are going in to get an animal that is smaller and faster than you in a confined space, I suggest the bag of sand securely taped to the end of a cricket wicket. It has a beautiful concussive swing and still has a thrust. One clean hit and it is goodnight, and the capture and press in a corner will work but not leave a terrible mess.
Wear your riggers gloves, kneepads and steelcaps. Have a sandbag for disposal.
I may have done this once or twice.
Chaz! Rottnest is magic! You’ve got to go there.
I love Perth, but I know what you mean.
We arrived there late on a Friday night last July and checked into the Rendezvous hotel at Scarborough. I’d gone there to meet my long lost cousins (long story but Dad went nuts after the war and told us we had no family, and after 40 years it twigged to me that being drunk and delusional, of course he was lying…duh) and since we had a nice leisurely ten days to stay, we thought it being off season and all, we could just cruise into a real estate agent’s and find a nice unit to rent.
Again, Duh.
Luckily someone in the restaurant at breakfast told us that real estate agents don’t work on Saturdays in Perth (WTF?) and that there is no such thing as holiday accommodation there either.
They pointed the way to Sandcastles at Scarborough, which turned out to be the only place around that had a unit to rent, so we did OK.
The discovery that Perth still exists in 1972 came the next day when we discovered there is no such thing as Sunday trading.
It rained the entire time so we didn’t get to Rottnest or to go down south to Margaret River (The Bloke was keen to drink his way from village to village) so maybe in December.
If you are anywhere near the Scarboro surf club, they’ve got a book out that’s a history of the surf club. My Dad was one of the founding members, in the early 30s, and there’s some great photos of what it all looked like back then.
And yes, my 75yro cousin said that Hyde Park was just a wilderness back then. And that Scarborough Beach Road was a sand track, they used to ride their bikes out from North Perth to the beach. He’s still cussing the sand track and celebrating the arrival of concrete surfaces.
YB: “Possums being illegal to kill as they are native animals. Oh well.”
Ah, I see. Is that why the brush turkeys are such a bane then?
Hanging meat for in the larder for a few days used to be standard practice to improve the taste but now people are that ignorant they automatically assume freshest is tastiest.
I was ready to jump in the lake and beat shit out of a swan when it advanced on my Labrador the other week. She was swimming with a stick and hadn’t noticed the family group with cygnets, I’d have murdered the over grown duck if it’d made the wrong move.
Which would have been awkward as it was a city park with old people and kids everywhere… and then the Queen would have come round my house and given me grief.
Don’t like geese and swans, evil birds. My mum kept geese when I was little.
I spent a good part of my childhood being pursued by angry geese too.
I swear there’s still bite marks in my arse from the bastards.
Amen brother. When you’re five it’s like being attacked by a light plane, and my mum going “Just stand your ground”.
Quokka,
yes no sunday trading, no daylight saving, no late trading during the week. We’ve only had bottle shops opening on sundays for about a year.
You should go to the Swan valley though lots of reasonable to good wineries.
peeled apple portions, in the cavity (to be discarded later, unlike ‘stuffing’), is the best for soaking up unwanted fats when roasting birds of any type, but still wanting to retain the moistness. That is, how to roast them but keep them wet. Info from someone who knows firsthand…or any other way if a hand’s not convenient
Yeah, protected. Right. So how come nobody gives a shit about road kill?
It’s mating season round here and you just cant avoid whole scramble of bush turkeys chasing each other down the road and sooo not paying attention to on coming traffic. If you happen to be looking the other way, just on dusk, at the wallabies that might be about to jump in front the ute at any moment, you’re likely to collect two or three at once. Can’t go wasting all that protein. Forget the legs though. Tough as fencing wire.
We’ve got our local cock sorted now – garden fenced off, and the mound just outside the fence. Only a short distance from his beautiful compost heap to my garden beds. G-man shovels it up, but every year, he’s back scratching the litter from the creek bed – up hill – to that mound, god love his little cotton sox. A sort of ugly, but determined labour saving device.
That’s the turkey – not G-man.
quokka – what on earth are you talking about??? Cornholing isn’t a euphemism for anal intercourse! Those who cornhole participate in a simple – but fun – game, and there is wide-spread participation in many parts of America! Please click on the wikki link at the very top of this thread for a description.
However, you certainly opened my eyes as to why the Blunty spam filter won’t let me say cornhole. But I think its unfair. Havock regularly uses the term “bugger,” Chaz says “wank” and/or “wanker” repeatedly and Therbs can’t type a sentence without inserting a word that even I cannot bring myself to repeat here – although I will tell you that it describes an unnatural act. So why is an obscure and undoubtedly dated American obscenity banned while Anglo/Australian slang is tolerated?
I suspect a double standard.
PNB – no double standards around here, we just treat our corn with due respect, that’s all.
I was wrong.
“To Procure = to pay Ysambart to do it for you.”
Correction.
To Procure = If Ysambart was arrange Moko to do it for you.