Could be an anthem I think

Dear Kell and Cat

It cheers me greatly to say that I have completely survived my recent Flu (whatever) and am enjoying a crisp and sunny weekend. Remind me Kell, to never go to Thailand, or any where else for longer than twelve hours, with you. I needed a nap to get over your email. Now here some Bunnings musings:

Bunnings is best on a Saturday, it’s the day on which it fulfils its dedicated purpose; DIY. Tradies and builders often display frustration with the two dollar shop nature of this mammoth but to the DIY two dollar shop market Bunnings is nirvana. It’s hard to imagine another meeting place with such board appeal across economic, social and cultural demographic. Politicians should take note; there are always plenty of babies to kiss.

Families flood in large and small, not just the conventional ones either for it is here that the gay community really find a forum to disport on a level field in their family modules. Gay men may pass under the radar individually but in company with partners they become more obvious. That chap looking for the kiddie barriers got under mine till I saw him fifteen minutes later in company with his fella pushing a shared trolley and realise its for the puppy. Gay girls are outrageous. They find Bunnings the perfect place to present in the family unit. Their roles are obvious even exaggerated as the role male revels in this opportunity to assume full potency and the female swoons. That leaky laundry tub is no match for this dude and her partner almost orgasms in anticipation.

The unlikeliest folk whisper and titter over selection of chains while bolder ones actually try them, draping themselves to be sure of getting the right length and feel. Distracted dads let toddlers unwind forty metres of cord from a roll before making a show of remorse and a bluff at repair. Others fairly loot fixtures lining all items up on the floor to select their favourite and leave the rest. You should all know that it is standard procedure to unpack the blister pack to be sure of what it contains or read the installation instructions and when totally satisfied with the result put it back and take a virgin pack. The next customer ignores this ravaged pack, who knows where it has been and preforms the same procedure. One sold one ruined; just as well Bunnings have such large mark-ups.

Stereotypes recur like the Irish tradie straight from central casting, one of O’Rielly’s boys or Orally as Manuel would have said. Wants to know do we have those pointy things that, with our lack of a common language he attempts to describe in sign language, with exaggerated swirling motions. “Screws in isle three” I cut him short, I’m becoming expert in his language. It’s really embarrassing to find that there is such a firm base for all those Irish jokes, especially considering my ancestry.

The old Mediterranean five foot stump who smells of garlic and tobacco smoke has been here for forty years and has still has only that basic, one phrase multi use English so that “where are you” also means where were you, where have you been ,where are you going, I lost you, what are you doing, I’ve had enough, can we go now etc. is prone to take hold of you physically to ensure no escape. He puts me in mind of that guy whose house backs onto Henson park standing outside his rusting iron shed early mornings, listening to radio news from Belgrade, moodily contemplating the detritus of rusting iron, bricks and assorted building materials which had been intended for ad-hoc extensions like those of his neighbours. Too old now for such exertions he broods that his good for nothing drug dealing son whose still warm Mercedes stands ticking in the drive could have taken up the cause and saved him the embarrassment of not keeping up with the Joneses or in this case the Camilleris.

The Korean couple who look as if they just walked out of their fishing village all ruddy in gum boots are back after a few months absence. Maybe they’ve been trawling in the Antarctic; suits me.

Ladies try with all their wiles in their many ways to seduce good service, many play the pathetically helpless for the sympathy role though there are few that I would judge as genuine. If their so helpless then how come there so hard to dump. The flirts are much more fun, and honest too.

Now I see by your drooping eyelids that this bedtime story has had its way so I’ll say farewell and leave you with this lament which can be sung to Australia’s most popular tune and may some day replace the beautiful national anthem.


WAL-MART SECURITY

Once a stoner bogan
Ambled to the shopping mall
High on his week of am-phet-amine
And he slurred as he tucked DVD’s into his hood-hood-e
We’ll beat this Wal-Mart security you’ll see.

Wal-Mart security, Wal-Mart security
We’ll beat this Wal-Mart security you’ll see,
And he slurred as he tucked DVD’s into his hood-hood-e
We’ll beat this Wal-Mart security you’ll see.

Up to the check-out
Strolled our stoner casually,
Cloaked in his high of in-vis-ibility,
Beep went the sensor it seemed to beep con-tin-ually
Till it’s beep alerted Wal-Mart security.

Chorus

Here comes the Tongan
Pacific island guest worker
With shiny badge and uniform off-ici-ally,
“Empty out your hood-e come on do it quick-a-ly
Or you’ll come to Wal-Mart security with me”.

Chorus

Now this stoners drugs
Combined with his adrenalin
Formed a massive charge of elec-tri-city,
It set our bogan racing ignoring signs that you would see
Warning him that Wal-Mart’s floors could be slippery.

Chorus

Now our bogans settled
In his modern wheely chair
Designed for those with quad-rap-li-city,
The drugs that he’s is taking to keep him working naturally
Are courtesy of Wal-Mart’s insurers, you and me.

Chorous

Aunty