There seems to be a lot of Asians in here ...

The day started out as normal. The venue was The Young Pretender hotel.

Publican Irish Tom was pensive.

He was hoping we would decide to eat elsewhere as "they are more trouble than they are worth".

Bryan was there, quiet Phil had put in one of his occasional appearances.

Moree was 'down the farm' still trying to come to terms with being knocked back for the $5,000 drought relief package he had fraudulently applied for.

The Bishop strolled in looking dishevelled and longing to be back in 1970 when all football was played on Saturdays, there were no tape recorders in police interviews and pubs were pubs where you stood at the bar and drank, not laying about on a sofa.

Primrose the ex bank manager arrived looking concerned as usual.

He spent so many years perfecting that "ooh i don't know about this" look on his face when customers asked for a loan it is permanently stuck on.

Irish Tom announced that if we entertaining any notions of eating here we could forget it.

Bryan suggests he has heard good reports about a Vietnamese cafeteria off the Sandy Bay Road. I could eat the crutch out of a rag doll and suggest that will do.

Bryan orders a traveller.

We head off.

Bryan's dog comes along with us.

The dog has his head out the sunroof as we pass the old Syntax.

He is a smart dog and is always on the lookout for danger so he can alert Bryan.

He is also good for spotting car park spaces and barks loudly at Bryan his head pointing to the Coles car park indicating that is the only place to park.

We all alight and head to the restaurant while Bryan tells the dog that he has been looking at a place called Wynyard on the Internet and "we might move there'.

Bryan would bring the dog in but the Health laws won't allow it and as Primrose points out it might not be a good idea to take a dog into an Asian restaurant.

Then the trouble starts.

There is a pretty little thing taking orders but her command of English is not the best.

She seems to think we are after take aways.

Primrose mutters something about 'illegal immigrants'.

I hold up 5 fingers and point toward the tables.

The penny drops.

The food arrives quickly which is good but before I know it I am being showered with rice.

The others are shaking so violently from alcohol withdrawal they could light up the National Electricity Grid.

They are missing their mouth's altogether on occasions.

Primrose observes that 'there seems to be a lot of Asians in here".

The Bishop points out that is not surprising.

Quiet Phil remarks that 'Hop Sing' has done a good job.

I have finished and head outside to shake off all the rice.

I pay the young lass and she appears to ask me a question.

I have no idea what she says so i just say "Yes, Yes put your money on the Saints - they will win tonight.

We head back and Bryan drops us off at The Young Pretender while he and the dog adjourn to the dog beach.

Bryan has purchased some Apr es Ski boots from Kathmandu for the dog beach.

My shoes are inappropriate for the dog beach.

Moree is perched up at the bar.

He has hit his head on the steering wheel again driving home drunk from the farm and is looking the worse for wear but is smiling.

He has malt whiskey in front of him.

The Bishop reminds every one of the time Moree cut his head by falling over drunk in the church taking a short cut to his place from The Trumpeters Arms.

Moree claims there are Chinese spys dropping information into Labor Party electorate offices to be collated and sent back to Peking.

The ALP is in cahoots with the Chinese Government he says.

He asks me can I get him some Viagra.

I tell him no.

I tell him I would worry he would have a heart attack anyway.

He says he just wants it so he doesn't piss on his boots.

Someone says they have heard that Wazza is back in town.

Everyone looks concerned.

Irish Tom pours himself a Guinness and puts his head in his hands.

"Jeez I hope not!" he says.

The Trumpeters Arms

It was a Monday night at Trumpies and the usual suspects were in attendance.
They had all consumed a fair bit at the weekend and just surviving the day coupled with several ales had put them all in a jovial state of mind.
Lindsay had just been informed he would not get anymore to drink and he then loaded the fireplace and placed a round log on top.

Being an architect Lindsay had joined several straws together to form one straw a metre and a half in length.

John had slipped behind the bar and removed the top off a bottle of red and Lindsay was consuming it through his makeshift straw.

The Round log had slipped off the top of the fireplace and was happily burning away on the carpet.

Everyone was so interested in Lindsay's little trick with the straws nobody noticed until they couldn't see the bloke next to them for smoke.

Moree was quick to react however and picked up the lit log at either end while The Bishop held open the front door.

Moree raced out through the door and rolled it down Trumpeter Street.

By the time it careered into Merv's fence it was doing approximately 60KM an hour.

The man from the insurance company says he thought he had seen everything until this.

Moree is telling everyone he has saved the pub from burning down.

Moree is a known pryromaniac and often stares at the fire burning for 4 hours without blinking.

All this on the same day The Bishop had discovered a female ancestor had been transported from Limerick - 15 years for arson.

It is all too much for The Bishop.

He orders the house red.

Lindsay has set up a police cordon like a crime scene with toilet paper.

He has all the paper in the Gents and has cleaned the Ladies out as well.

He has a notebook and is interviewing suspects as he calls them.

Given he started the fire in the first place he is clearly in a state of confusion.

It is a good thing the Landlord, Gordo is still recovering in hospital from a heart attack.

Gordo had in the state election given free beer to both major political parties to try and get them to abolish Land Tax.

He had also played the violin on the radio, television and even the local rag that nobody reads claiming he will have to lay off staff.

They rattled a tin but that got pinched by some greenies to buy patchouli oil.

All this to no avail

I was there the day Gordo had his heart attack.

I remember it well.

The postie burst in the door and threw down the mail.

Gordo slowly opened the electricity bill.

He went a funny colour, poured himself a beer and came and sat next to me.

The extra floor on the pub looks good but Gordo had not counted on the electricity it uses, especially, the lift that tourists keep getting stuck in.

Gordo started shaking, beer went all over the place and Gordo hit the floor, hard. He is a big man and it made a lot of noise.

I yelled out to Stephanie behind the jump "Look out there are Llamas!"

She said "what".

I said "I mean ring the ambulance - Gordo is croaking it over here".

As the ambulance drove off I went round and poured myself a jug.

The Little Tramp.

Gordo