grip pipe

Entertainment news dominates an absolutely electrifying week in sunny OZ’s various circus showgrounds. After live performances there was absolutely scintillating viewing of many old favourites on television at discount prices nightly for pay TV viewers. Thankfully in keeping with the tradition of Easter, miracles abounded but more of MC Albo shortly. The absence of many old favourites was given down to the need to get dressed for the budget and choosing the various forms of tinsel that go with the costumes to this annual May day pole dancing festival. There was mercifully no droning from the Girrard, Surfie Wayne stopped trying to get the rich kids to be his mates and Shorty it seems actually has a real job. Mr Tony and Big Joe continue their modern interpretation of Laurel and Hardy. More punters were sent in search of the new economy and some big bloke from Queensland called Clive reckons his holes in the ground have never made a brass razoo. Maybe Clive should stick to footie clubs.

But the miracle that astounded and stunned all who keenly follow things aeronautical and who by nature are great believers in miracles, particularly those produced of the Pratt and Whitney nature and that achieved by understanding attitude plus power equals performance, was that we were all stunned by the re-appearance of Ringmaster Albo in a blaze of light, yes dear readers, Albo, wait for it, made a decision about Sydney’s perennial problem of what to do about the big pub. Whew!

Yes, now it seems Albo wrote a letter to the Silver Dates (Brave call Albo, no maybe even courageous) and told ‘em Wilton was it from here on in and their pub was well buggered at some time in the post anthropocene period from a licensing perspective. Well we think he did write a letter and a very big letter it was too and it was duly read out to us as we settled down to re-runs of ‘Badgerys Creek’. Not content with a walk on bit part last week and the blessing of infrastructures, Albo has come out with a script re-write (thanks again to the Commonwealth Boys for their fine scripting) and set a precedent in things aeronautical. No more television for us, it is back to the real thing, and it like the new economy is to be given a catchy name, the Second Airport for Sydney.

We were kept riveted by the finely tuned nuances of the script; I mean first writing a letter, as yet to be posted albeit but a very good letter nonetheless, then canning ‘Badgerys Creek’ and then yes actually talking about a real aeronautical topic and not some dreary history lesson. We all immediately recognised it to be one of those really big ideas that Wayne loves to spruik about down at the cashier’s office. Wilton by the way was news to everybody else in Oz who never got a letter, as there is believed to be only one in existence and nobody has actually seen it. One could surmise that the Army must be going to no longer need to send up things that go bang or other firework displays just up the road from the proposed new pub.

If Albo keeps this up he will qualify for a chair in the next live debate with Archbishop Pell and Professor Richard Dawkins. Would that not be wondrous, imagine an Atheist, a committed Christian believer and Albo who would not have a clue about the lift formula or airports and someone who believes in nothing celstial or heavenly bound debating the meaning of aeronautical life. Aeronautical types reckon they could start with the claim that pigs can fly, as made by various circus performers’ in shows around Oz daily and then the proposition whether flying pigs actually exist and finally whether a second Sydney Airport will actually ever be discovered or will it remain a vague concept in the realm of quantum physics.

Some bystanders were curious whether it was seemly for the head of a govnmint booth at the circus,Tourism Australia, to be seen supping privately with St. Alan and whether a similar invitation had been made to Don Borghetti at the Virgin factory.

No new NOTAMS from Europe of concern to Oz aviators, apart from turbulence over Spain which has left the Greeks thinking that’s what happen to our Euro bus as well. Routing over Syria and Iran is not recommended.Bank shares everywhere are a wondrous investment, as it now appears the Banks can never go broke, being supported by gilt edged ‘Too Big to Fail’ derivative notes given for free from national treasuries, govenmints and us punters everywhere. Aeronautical types will see the similarity with early legacy airlines. Smart money is still on A1ex-Singapore and second hand bulk carriers.

Til next week, when more bollocks will no doubt be in the offing from all at the Circuses here in Oz.

Kharon

The Man Who Never Was Series 6, Episode 27

Bloodnok: Take a bus to the House of Commons, that's the finest political asylum in the world! Ooohh, yes! They've got 'em all there you know.

Seagoon: He sat right where you're sitting, now. In that very spot. He was frightened of the enemy, too. Dead scared. He put a thousand pounds of gold in his kit bag, booked a fast plane to Dublin, and had a submarine laid on to take him to South America. Poor fool, heh heh. He thought he'd got away with it. You know what happened to him, don't you?

Bloodnok: Ehm, what?

Seagoon: He got away with it! [pause] Bloodnok! None of that Plan B packing lark. And stop packing your kit! Put that gold back in my tooth!

Seagoon: Commander, who would be idiot enough to be dressed up as a German Admiral, and thrown overboard from a submarine?

Lew: Don't worry! Don't worry, I have, in this box here, an idiot who's been specially drowned for the job. Leslie, take the lid off.

Leslie: Yes, I'll take it off... FX: [wooden box being prized apart type noise, and something lumpy falling out]

Lew: There you are gentlemen, meet the man who never was!
Eccles: 'Aaaallo!
Seagoon: Wait a minute! Wait a minute, this man is damp.
Lew: 'Course he's damp. We damped him down for the night, I told you! He's the only Field Marshal with a private's batten in his knapsack.

Seagoon: But can we spare a Field Marshall?
Lew: This Field Marshall don't count!
Seagoon: He doesn't count?

Lew: No! He don't read or write either! That's why he's working at the Romford this week. He might get out with a bit of luck, I dunno.

Seagoon: But we can't float him ashore, he's not dead!
Eccles: Wanna bet?

And that folks, was the Goon Show. And yes, it's all bollocks.