27th Jan 2019, 13:21 - Wikipost
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A thread where ex PNG geriatrics lapuns and long longs can live in the dim distant past.
Where tall stories are accepted as fact. War stories are applauded. Grab a Brownie, pull up a story and join in a trip down memory lane!!! 
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PNG Ples Bilong Tok Tok
Des Carney: "if anybody has Liklik Red Pela Hat on disc and would be generous enough to email me a copy ([email protected]) I would be grateful tumas"
When this was posted in May last year I thought to myself, "I have that record somewhere". Unfortunately, a bit of a scratch around failed to turn it up.
Well, we have been having a tidy up in the garage - and guess what has turned up?
LIKLIK RETPELA HAT - The Story of Little Red Riding Hood told in pidgin by Supt. "Mike" Thomas.
Now if I can just figure out how to record it off the 45 and onto the computer.
Des, are you still there?
Dr
When this was posted in May last year I thought to myself, "I have that record somewhere". Unfortunately, a bit of a scratch around failed to turn it up.
Well, we have been having a tidy up in the garage - and guess what has turned up?
LIKLIK RETPELA HAT - The Story of Little Red Riding Hood told in pidgin by Supt. "Mike" Thomas.
Now if I can just figure out how to record it off the 45 and onto the computer.
Des, are you still there?
Dr
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FTD
Des may not be here but I am .... I would very much like a copy. If you manage to get it converted to mp3 format please send me a copy. If u were in the ME I would be more than happy to convert it for you.
i have made several requests over the years thru this forum for copies of Mike's readings and have received several "empty" promises of copies (Hint! Hint! if those who made the promises are still with us
of tripella lik lik pik and lik lik retpella hat.
ps I can trade you copies of
Moresby Gliding Club
Joe's Jolly
Man from Ramu River
Once a Jolly Chimbu
and a few others if you don't have them already.
Cheers
i have made several requests over the years thru this forum for copies of Mike's readings and have received several "empty" promises of copies (Hint! Hint! if those who made the promises are still with us
of tripella lik lik pik and lik lik retpella hat.ps I can trade you copies of
Moresby Gliding Club
Joe's Jolly
Man from Ramu River
Once a Jolly Chimbu
and a few others if you don't have them already.
Cheers
Last edited by 2 Dogs; 7th Feb 2008 at 12:21.
Silly Old Git
Once flew Inspector Mike to a melee at Wapanamanda strip
Engas V. the rest of the world
All he took was his hat with scrambled egg and a swagger stick
He told them all he would come and kick arse and take names if they didnt bugger off
Meanwhile I was cringing in fear staying real close to the 185.
Luckily they all went away
Id like the words to Tripela lik lik pik if anyone can oblige?
Engas V. the rest of the world
All he took was his hat with scrambled egg and a swagger stick
He told them all he would come and kick arse and take names if they didnt bugger off
Meanwhile I was cringing in fear staying real close to the 185.
Luckily they all went away
Id like the words to Tripela lik lik pik if anyone can oblige?
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2 Dogs
I'm sorry, I thought you had obtained a copy from another source. PM me your mailing address and I'll send you the 4 track CD... two for the pigs and two for the Red Hood. It's a little cackley, but you can still enjoy the words.
I'm sorry, I thought you had obtained a copy from another source. PM me your mailing address and I'll send you the 4 track CD... two for the pigs and two for the Red Hood. It's a little cackley, but you can still enjoy the words.
Man Bilong Balus long PNG
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Location: Looking forward to returning to Japan soon but in the meantime continuing the never ending search for a bad bottle of Red!
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Re 'Tripella lik lik pik' and 'Liklik Pela Hat'.......Wizard of Aus' sent me and a few others a cd of those last year. Suggest you pm him and see if he can oblige.
I will also see if I can copy the disc I have.
I will also see if I can copy the disc I have.
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Pinky
Yes,
the Wiz did offer but delivery never eventuated
I have recently had another offer which I have accepted
I am surprised that somebody hasn't made an mp3 of them so they could be emailed.
the Wiz did offer but delivery never eventuated
I have recently had another offer which I have accepted
I am surprised that somebody hasn't made an mp3 of them so they could be emailed.
The Baron Ditching
It was 1982 definitely (my last year in Lae) around Jan - Feb.
The Baron was one that wasn't regularly based at Lae. Years ago i found a small article on the net about the incident that identified the aircraft, I cant find it again but my failing memory says P2-GKR. Search on the net for this reg and entries say it was a Twotter but all the twotters were P2-RD* by then.
The Baron was one that wasn't regularly based at Lae. Years ago i found a small article on the net about the incident that identified the aircraft, I cant find it again but my failing memory says P2-GKR. Search on the net for this reg and entries say it was a Twotter but all the twotters were P2-RD* by then.
Silly Old Git
Ho ho..
Could it have been one of these taken in GKA 1979?
Be a fabulous subject for an underwater adventure doco....
"Painim pinis wanpela sait long cowboy su bilong kaptin Max"
Could it have been one of these taken in GKA 1979?
Be a fabulous subject for an underwater adventure doco....
"Painim pinis wanpela sait long cowboy su bilong kaptin Max"
Definitely had an orange tail...
The rest was under water!
One of my enduring visions is of the brave fire crew leaping aboard their tender, racing to the beach, climbing onto the roof of the tender, folding their arms and watching the airshow / drama taking place before them. They had a rescue boat but the outboard had been swiped years before!
The other rescue procedure was to call the Lae yacht club but it was too early 8-9 am? no one at home. It was lucky the chopper pilot heard the splash, recognised it for what it was and sprinted for the chopper, they were so lucky I thought he'd used more than his 9 lives in one go.
One of my enduring visions is of the brave fire crew leaping aboard their tender, racing to the beach, climbing onto the roof of the tender, folding their arms and watching the airshow / drama taking place before them. They had a rescue boat but the outboard had been swiped years before!
The other rescue procedure was to call the Lae yacht club but it was too early 8-9 am? no one at home. It was lucky the chopper pilot heard the splash, recognised it for what it was and sprinted for the chopper, they were so lucky I thought he'd used more than his 9 lives in one go.
Silly Old Git
The chopper pilot certainly was the hero of the day
MP did tell me he thought he was ok in the water until the helo hovered over and dropped a bloody big cargo net on them nearly drowning them
MP did tell me he thought he was ok in the water until the helo hovered over and dropped a bloody big cargo net on them nearly drowning them
Silly Old Git
O...lukim ia...
P2 GKU Beechcraft baron Barron - Talair Tourist Airlines of Niugini - - - - crashed into water Dec 1981
http://michie.net/cgi-bin/plnsrch.pl
P2 GKU Beechcraft baron Barron - Talair Tourist Airlines of Niugini - - - - crashed into water Dec 1981
http://michie.net/cgi-bin/plnsrch.pl
cac_sabre. VH/P2-GKR was the original and first Series 200 Twin Otter that McCook ferried from California in 1972. I rationalised the registrations after we acquired M@cair; P2-GKR became P2-RDB and GKR went to a Baron (I think).
I had a feeling Max spalshed down earlier than 8.00 am. Certainly he burnt the Bandit around 5.30 am, as GHOC called me before 6.00 am.
Then there was the Turbine Porter at Karimui, a C206 near Madang........ Max broke a few!
I had a feeling Max spalshed down earlier than 8.00 am. Certainly he burnt the Bandit around 5.30 am, as GHOC called me before 6.00 am.
Then there was the Turbine Porter at Karimui, a C206 near Madang........ Max broke a few!
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Michael Thomas oozed over to Barrie Rogers in Madang one morning and enquired if Barrie might do him a small favour.
Barrie, delighted to be in favour with the cops, enthusiastically said, "Yes I can do that for you, What is it?"
"Take a parcel of meat to Hagen for me".
"No problem".
'I'll just get a police boi to drop it off at the aircraft".
"It's MAE"
We wandered out to the aircraft after the usual breakfast and found a gory cotton covered, parcelled, half a fully grown bulamacow tied on top of the already loaded cargo.
Lucky it was a "three" and the extra couple of hundred pounds was just a small percentage overload.
We took it... didn't want to disappoint the Hagen constabulary did we.
I was keeping a low profile because Mike "Knew who I was" after I'd made a fool of him and the oli cops a year before on Christmas Day 1970 when I hid all the dining room chairs in the DCA mess ladies tiolet.
We pleb, mess residents hadn't been invited to the Christmas dinner put on there, for the "socialites" of Madang.
NO gentleman (Specially oli cops) would enter the ladies toilet during the search of all the rooms of the mess and a warrant was sworn out for the dastardly purlioner of the DCA mess chairs when they couldn't be found.
At the impromptu picnic lunch under the trees of the DCA mess a lady "needed to go" but couldn't get in because the door was jammed by a toppled stack of chairs. Women bustin to go, while heros tried to work out how to get in to remove the obstacles.
Now weren't thems the good old days!
Sixties
Barrie, delighted to be in favour with the cops, enthusiastically said, "Yes I can do that for you, What is it?"
"Take a parcel of meat to Hagen for me".
"No problem".
'I'll just get a police boi to drop it off at the aircraft".
"It's MAE"
We wandered out to the aircraft after the usual breakfast and found a gory cotton covered, parcelled, half a fully grown bulamacow tied on top of the already loaded cargo.
Lucky it was a "three" and the extra couple of hundred pounds was just a small percentage overload.
We took it... didn't want to disappoint the Hagen constabulary did we.
I was keeping a low profile because Mike "Knew who I was" after I'd made a fool of him and the oli cops a year before on Christmas Day 1970 when I hid all the dining room chairs in the DCA mess ladies tiolet.
We pleb, mess residents hadn't been invited to the Christmas dinner put on there, for the "socialites" of Madang.
NO gentleman (Specially oli cops) would enter the ladies toilet during the search of all the rooms of the mess and a warrant was sworn out for the dastardly purlioner of the DCA mess chairs when they couldn't be found.
At the impromptu picnic lunch under the trees of the DCA mess a lady "needed to go" but couldn't get in because the door was jammed by a toppled stack of chairs. Women bustin to go, while heros tried to work out how to get in to remove the obstacles.
Now weren't thems the good old days!
Sixties
Last edited by sixtiesrelic; 13th Feb 2008 at 04:38.
Silly Old Git
Hi Mr sixties relic hope you are well
who was the lovely blonde lady that looked aftr the Madang DCA mess?
This is one pilot that was glad of the meals
who was the lovely blonde lady that looked aftr the Madang DCA mess?
This is one pilot that was glad of the meals
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Hi Tinny,
I was trying to remember her name, but it's thirty eight years ago and the memory is shedding some unimportant info. Now ask me the name of the chicks I lusted after and I can help ya.
The food at the DCA mess was bloody good as were the inmates.
There were a few non DCA blow ins, as the joint always had a few spare rooms while I was there.
I copped out with the neighbours each side of me in my donga.
One side was a moody slightly built, good Catholic, Italian who was "suffering" from the lack of company of suitable Italian lady friends and having been up there too long was “doing with” second best… Extremely honourably and respectfully I must say.
I think he was a carpenter and he WAS a very accomplished artist ... he showed me portraits he'd painted of a "local lady friend" and they were photographic standard.
He was one of those people who sleep very lightly and can get quite agitated if woken.
I was tryin' me luck with a number of the new Ansett Hosties as they joined the company and my room seemed like the right place after lashin' out, shoutin' 'em to the pictures.
A little bit of romantic music (to mask the moans if I was "lucky") a glass of Buka Meri each and my bed the only place to rest... you know the situation.
Well the donga quivering as we crept up the stairs was probably enough to wake the Catholic.
Whispering and the splosh of rum into glasses indicated what I was up to and would stoke the fires in his belly and stir up resentment.
Lying on his back with his arms crossed on his chest like the good Nuns taught him back in his childhood; he would be subject to excruciating torment of not quite hearing what we were up to, but his sinful little mind envisaged the same debauchery mine was hoping for, and in the end, to save the honour of the young lady AND to keep our souls from the everlasting fires of Hell, he 'd explode from his room and either hammer on my door or jump up and down on the veranda let fly with a torrent of Italian, or, maybe it was English.
This stuffed him right up because it riled "Old Jack " on the other side of me.
Jack was one of those coves who'd come up, not long after the war and knew the value of rum to ward off Malaria.
Jack was unmarried, so lived in the mess.
He'd sit on his bed every evening, wardin' off malaria and havin' conversations with disagreeable people wot wasn't there.
These perpetrators had done nasty things and Jack would tell 'em what he was gonna do to 'em and most of it was violent.
Grey headed old Jack would ramble on for hours, sittin' one leg cocked over the other on the side of his bed, elbow resting on his thigh and the glass listing dangerously, havin' this one sided argument in his shorts, shirt and long white sox which always remained up, until one of his sides gave out and he'd sag over and pass out. There he’d remain till disturbed by daylight, a raging thirst, or, loud noises. (Funnily, when a beaut gourier really shook the joint as I waited on the veranda for my pre-dawn pick up one morning, Jack didn't come out of HIS room... I suppose it was none of the above.
The “Mick”! on evenings of my “at homes” however, did wake old Jack with his jumpin' up and down and God punished him by lettin' old Jack resume his tirade on imaginary blokes wot was goin' ter be bleedin' pretty soon.
This was good for our entertainment as the chicks would start giggling, which would set the migrant off even more. He was silent but you could feel the shaking of his rage through the floor or, was it perhaps his kneeling and "prayin' in front of a holy picture".
He got the sh**s with me big time and "punished" me by “invisiblising” me.
I got ignored.
Bein' sent to Coventry by one bloke in a mess of about thirty who didn't know, was a bit ineffectual.
I retaliated in the silent vendetta by nickin’ into the mess before mealtime and sittin’ in HIS chair.
He was one of those blokes who were punctual and ALWAYS sat in “his chair”… the rest of the inmates just sat anywhere.
Good thing he was a “good Catholic” or I mighta landed up with a paint brush between my ribs.
I was trying to remember her name, but it's thirty eight years ago and the memory is shedding some unimportant info. Now ask me the name of the chicks I lusted after and I can help ya.
The food at the DCA mess was bloody good as were the inmates.
There were a few non DCA blow ins, as the joint always had a few spare rooms while I was there.
I copped out with the neighbours each side of me in my donga.
One side was a moody slightly built, good Catholic, Italian who was "suffering" from the lack of company of suitable Italian lady friends and having been up there too long was “doing with” second best… Extremely honourably and respectfully I must say.
I think he was a carpenter and he WAS a very accomplished artist ... he showed me portraits he'd painted of a "local lady friend" and they were photographic standard.
He was one of those people who sleep very lightly and can get quite agitated if woken.
I was tryin' me luck with a number of the new Ansett Hosties as they joined the company and my room seemed like the right place after lashin' out, shoutin' 'em to the pictures.
A little bit of romantic music (to mask the moans if I was "lucky") a glass of Buka Meri each and my bed the only place to rest... you know the situation.
Well the donga quivering as we crept up the stairs was probably enough to wake the Catholic.
Whispering and the splosh of rum into glasses indicated what I was up to and would stoke the fires in his belly and stir up resentment.
Lying on his back with his arms crossed on his chest like the good Nuns taught him back in his childhood; he would be subject to excruciating torment of not quite hearing what we were up to, but his sinful little mind envisaged the same debauchery mine was hoping for, and in the end, to save the honour of the young lady AND to keep our souls from the everlasting fires of Hell, he 'd explode from his room and either hammer on my door or jump up and down on the veranda let fly with a torrent of Italian, or, maybe it was English.
This stuffed him right up because it riled "Old Jack " on the other side of me.
Jack was one of those coves who'd come up, not long after the war and knew the value of rum to ward off Malaria.
Jack was unmarried, so lived in the mess.
He'd sit on his bed every evening, wardin' off malaria and havin' conversations with disagreeable people wot wasn't there.
These perpetrators had done nasty things and Jack would tell 'em what he was gonna do to 'em and most of it was violent.
Grey headed old Jack would ramble on for hours, sittin' one leg cocked over the other on the side of his bed, elbow resting on his thigh and the glass listing dangerously, havin' this one sided argument in his shorts, shirt and long white sox which always remained up, until one of his sides gave out and he'd sag over and pass out. There he’d remain till disturbed by daylight, a raging thirst, or, loud noises. (Funnily, when a beaut gourier really shook the joint as I waited on the veranda for my pre-dawn pick up one morning, Jack didn't come out of HIS room... I suppose it was none of the above.
The “Mick”! on evenings of my “at homes” however, did wake old Jack with his jumpin' up and down and God punished him by lettin' old Jack resume his tirade on imaginary blokes wot was goin' ter be bleedin' pretty soon.
This was good for our entertainment as the chicks would start giggling, which would set the migrant off even more. He was silent but you could feel the shaking of his rage through the floor or, was it perhaps his kneeling and "prayin' in front of a holy picture".
He got the sh**s with me big time and "punished" me by “invisiblising” me.
I got ignored.
Bein' sent to Coventry by one bloke in a mess of about thirty who didn't know, was a bit ineffectual.
I retaliated in the silent vendetta by nickin’ into the mess before mealtime and sittin’ in HIS chair.
He was one of those blokes who were punctual and ALWAYS sat in “his chair”… the rest of the inmates just sat anywhere.
Good thing he was a “good Catholic” or I mighta landed up with a paint brush between my ribs.
Man Bilong Balus long PNG
Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Looking forward to returning to Japan soon but in the meantime continuing the never ending search for a bad bottle of Red!
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Good story sixtiesrelic, but howdidja go with the Ansett hostie?
