Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2001 10:20:16 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: what's a clave? Part 1 of 2 or 3
> alamhain@CTEL.NET writes:
> what's a clave?
Dear Sir or Madam,
I am glad you asked that question. It is a unique phenomenon that has given me
great cause to pause & scratch my head in wonder at the debauchery &
gastronomic excesses attendant upon such occasions.
Let me first start by saying that it is important to distinguish between the
American Clave and the Antipodean Clave.
This is the American Clave agenda items arranged in order of importance to
participants:
Food
Drink
Tee Shirt
Socialising
Sex
Fly Tying
Fishing
By contrast, the Antipodean Clave attendee will require the following
priorities:
Fishing
Fly Tying
Sex
Socialising
Tee Shirt
Drink
Food
You can make your own judgements as to which style of clave suits your tastes.
I have attended an Antipodean clave (and survived), and my expert knowledge of American
claves has been obtained by absorption and interpretation of the coded messages that
appear on this newsgroup before and after the event.
Let me give you some examples (I will also elaborate on the priority categories at a
later juncture).
The onset of an American Clave is signalled about 6 months out by a series of posts as
potential attendees jostle to avoid the role of Clavemaster. He or she is the master
planner. Their social standing rises and falls on the number of cases of food poisoning.
When some unfortunate is cornered & reluctantly agrees to find the camp site & check
out the availability of satellite TV, the nearest Big Macs and all the other essentials
of the American clave, a quiet descends on the newsgroup.
Next there is the date & time & location post from the Clavemaster.
>Following this there is a few of the "Is the campsite big enough for me to back my 400
foot Wooly Wanka motor home so the tail gate hangs over the river & I can fish from my
air bed" type post.
After that flurry another period of calm descends, then we get the "Whoopee, 4 weeks to go,
I'm a goin', who else is a goin'?" series, which lasts up until the day before the clave.
This series is replaced on the day & six preceding hours by the "I'm gonna take a shortcut,
anyone know how to get to Big Fork West Virginny from Out There North Carolina in 2 hours?"
After a flurry of "Take Route 42 & hang a right at the gas station just south of Spokane then
head due west before cutting across Farmer Harold's 3rd cornfield after the pink silo" type of
stuff, you just know some poor bugger ain't goin' to make it.
Also in the "ain't goin' to make it" category are the rather distressing posts from the boys
that go like "Hey Abe - all set to go but the gearbox just dropped outta the truck, so I'll
have to catch you next year".
Translated that means that he hadn't bothered to tell his other 1/2 the clave was on until the
night before, and her mother is coming to stay for the following week, and there is no way in
hell he is going to go to that Clave thing this weekend when mother is coming & the place looks
a tip and he hasn't mown the lawn in 3 weeks because he has been fishing & if he thinks he's
going to get it tonight he has got another think coming because if he goes to that Clave thing
he won't get it for the next 6 months. Something like that.
This is normally posted by a newlywed who hasn't yet, some would say, got their priorities in
life sorted.
GS
NZ
Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2001 12:20:52 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: what's a clave? Part 2 of 2 or 3 or 4
> alamhain@CTEL.NET writes:
> what's a clave?
Dear Sir
We continue our insight into this phenomenon
I realize my initial discourse was somewhat dry, and left you probably still wondering what a
clave is. In case you have a pressing appointment, I can summarize as follows.
The American Clave is where a great number of anglers travel great distances to gather in 1
geographically remote location (normally with moving water nearby, sometimes even containing
fish, albeit small, American ones) & there for a couple of days eat like there's no tomorrow,
drink like there is no tomorrow, & fall down like there is no tomorrow. They tell lies like
there is no tomorrow, they attempt sex [note I say attempt] like there is no tomorrow, they
proudly wear the T shirt & then they fish for 2 hours [when it stops raining], pack up &
go home. Contented.
You can see the intellectual social dynamic at work in that admittedly understated description.
By way of contrast, The Antipodean weekend Clave involves fishing for 90 of the 96 hours available
and fly tying for 5 hours and everything else is slotted into the remaining hour & we return home.
Calloused but contented.
If you have the time, I will elaborate.
Food
Food is the "raison d'etre" of the American Clave
It is always exciting when a clave is coming up because the newsgroup is swamped by recipe
posts for "Pappa Boyd's Favorite Corn Chilli Gumbo Curry" and concoctions of similar ilk.
As an aside, you will begin to notice regional differences in the American Clave recipes. They
are quite noticeable. In fact, so noticeable that now I just have to read the recipes to know
where the clave is being held.
"Aunt Jemmas Elk Casserole with New Potatoes & Rabbit Stew chaser" is somewhere out West.
The aforementioned " Pappa Boyd's" is West Virginia. If its "Escargot Vol au Vent with a
Bearnaise Sauce and Lightly Baked Cod" then you know its North Eastern. Probably VT or NH.
Pot luck dinners are the centre piece and highlight of the Clave. Normally they are held
on a Saturday night, when 30 people gather to consume enough food to feed 300. There is
great competition between clavers to come up with the dish that will hospitalize the greatest
number. For about 2 weeks they threaten each other through the newsgroup with their recipes.
Anyone with a brain would immediately see that one mouthful of these concoctions would paralyze
their digestive systems. Yet they bravely down the stuff. By way of example, here is the recipe
from a West Virginia clave, 3 years back. It is probably 1 of the more refined offerings that year.
"Blaykes Ball Buster Curry" [Feeds 4]
(NB: Prepare this curry before the clave, transport in stainless steel & serve on porcelain as it
melts plastic - & provide diners with a napkin & frozen toilet roll)
- Blend 4 live chickens in a concrete mixer after their necks have been rung
- Pour through chicken mesh sieve to take out the larger feathers
- Add 2 gallons of bourbon
- 1 cup of sugar
- 1 cup of water
- 1 gallon green chilli extract
- 2 unseeded jalapeno
- Half teaspoon of salt
- Half coon dick
- 1 pair of 3 month old sox
- 1 pair of Aunt Freda's pantyhose, circa 1979
- 2 peppermint tea bags
Blend thoroughly, cook for 3 days at 150, check & season to taste.
Keep fire extinguisher handy.
This was promulgated as a "mild" version & can be hopped up by omitting the cup of water.
Drink
You will appreciate that the only way diners can survive after eating that curry & its ilk is to
drink copious quantities of alcohol, the purpose of which is to anaesthetize [sp?], the gut & brain.
It usually succeeds and is the explanation for the many "Thank you Brian for dragging me off the fire"
posts one reads the day after the clave.
In the next installment we will touch on T shirts & sex.
GS
NZ
Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2001 16:29:07 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: what's a clave? Part 3 of 2 or 3 or 4 T & Sex
> alamhain@CTEL.NET writes:
> what's a clave?
Dear Sir
Let us continue.
We shall traverse the American Clave T shirt & sex and may even touch upon tying & fishing.
The T Shirt
This is an item of iconic status. Wearing the right Clave T on the waters will draw knowing nods
from assembled rods & sports. It is like the Masonic handshake, it opens doors.
Fortunately the newsgroup is blessed with dedicated & talented graphic artists. The main T dealer
lives strapped to a whippy tree, but should you ever be offered any of his stuff, do not hesitate.
It is a quality product. Although he does use HD cotton, to my knowledge there has only ever been
1 complaint of nipple chaffing & this from an Appalachian angler who it was later established wore
hers out mud wrestling. Although robust, they're not really designed for that application. They
are better suited to posing.
The T is de rigeur for the group photo & of course, once you have the T, even if you haven't been
to the Clave - people will think you have & that is the most important thing. Isn't it?
Sex
I regret to advise that ugly head is raised but I am also reliably informed that in 15 years of
Claving in America there has never actually been a successful conscious coupling at a Clave.
This can be attributed to the previously mentioned heavy intake of highly spiced food & counterbalancing
alcohol intake. As Murf has already confirmed.
This normally renders all participants impotent & comatose,
Or confined to the can.
Or a combination of all 3 conditions. as Murf has already confirmed.
- to the extent that should someone wake up the next morning & find
that they have been joined in their sleeping bag during the night by another personage
unknown to them, they can be reasonably assured they have remained biblically unknown
to the other person.
I am told that one can tell the regional location of a Clave (as with the food) - from the attire
of the other personage gently snoring next to your curry ravaged but still pristine body.
If they are wearing pyjamas and a chicken skin toupe', almost certainly N. East.
Fully clothed, including cowboy boots - West.
Naked & carrying a stuffed pig - undoubtably WV
Naked, tats & trying to get the batteries out of your flashlight - Appalachia
>From time to time you will see a smattering of posts after a Clave that run along the lines of
"Found at TennClave- XXL boxers - blue with ketchup mottling. To claim ring Brian on etc"
or
"Left at NEC final night - my underwear and a rod tip -please return to Wendy "
You can be assured that's as far as it has gone and there has been no swapping of genetic code.
Fly Tying
Whatever you do, never purchase a fly whose provenance suggests it has been tied at a Clave.
Imagine the scene - Claudette has had a good helping of the Curry. Balls are busted. He's had
a quart of bourbon to cool down. Out comes the vice & he announces to all, rather loudly, that
he is going to tie a #28 Adams. What he of course means is he is going to tie 28 Adam's at 1 shot.
Because that's what he can see: 28 vices & 28 hooks & yet magically as he wraps 1 thread, all
28 Adam's are simultaneously created. A miracle. But the end result bears no resemblance to a
passable Adams. Probably looks more like a streamer.
Fishing
Well,
- American Clave fishing
- that's an amazing experience all of its own & I shall have to save that for next time.
Then I can outline the purity of claving in NZ.
GS
NZ
Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 13:59:05 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: whats a clave? - part 4 - Fishin
Lets be frank Richard. American clave fishing is a misnomer. I have yet to see a decent
fish on post Clave website photo opportunity postings. By decent I mean anything over
3 inches. Lots of shots of folk enjoying themselves eating & drinking & telling lies.
In various stages of unshaven dishevelment & thats just the mud wrestlers (I withdraw
yr honour). But not fish in hand. Nor are there multitudinous tales of C&R. Which leads
me to believe that any fishing is an accidental byproduct of the weekend.
There appear to be 2 styles of American Clave fishing when a misguided attempt is made
to put fly on or in water:
- The raft hunt.
- The gang fish.
The Raft Hunt
The former arises because, for some unknown reason, many claves are scheduled to coincide
with college holidays. The end result is that the occasional aberrant Clavee that actually
crawls to the water, rod in hand, post stomach pump, post detox, post the shock of the early
morning visit by the chicken skin toupee'd or the stuffed pig - usually casts to a river full
of tubing & rafting pissed as a rat students. No fish about mind you, but lots of movement
on the river.
Once it is known that the hills & waters are alive with rafters & tubers & other alcoholics,
the scene then degenerates into the pissed as a rat clavees pulling their deckchairs or Motahomes
up on the river bank & cans in hands, (22 in the cooler underneath the seat), they spend many
happy hours yelling encouragement to the passing tubers & rafters. Many of whom are minimally clad.
Particularly the female ones. Which brings out the best in male Clavees. Hence their boisterous
but friendly exhortations to - "Get yr gear off!!" Such is the elegance and sophistication of
American clave fishing.
Gang fishing
The other, more pernicious style, is known as the gang fish. Of this I have seen evidence on the Internet.
Photos of a Canadian angler midstream wielding a blotched & overused purple rod with fish drawings on the
butt, attempting delicate dry fly placement whilst 15 Clavees in various stages of intoxication or food
poisoning stand on the bank & offer advice. Loudly.
Some also chunder for him.
& as he stands midstream he is no doubt hoping that if they must that at least they divest themselves
downstream of his 3 wt elegant efforts as opposed to creating an upstream tide of Ball Buster, which he
knows, just knows in his heart, will dissolve his waders should he be unfortunate enough to be caught
in the flow.
"There it is", they scream, jumping up and down on the bank in excitement pointing to a small twig
stuck on the bottom of the waters.
"No, no, cast closer into the tree!!" they exhort. & so it goes on.
Now is this fair to the fish?
Is it fair to the angler?
What chance does he have with 15 experts with a bell curve distribution of states of intoxication
offering advice in very loud voices that make the ground tremble & the trees sway?
But they are wearing the T shirt. So it's ok.
Usually it prevails until one of the happily pissed falls into the water & discovers that the fish
have long since departed. At which juncture the tribe repairs to the campsite to consume more Ball
Buster & Bourbon by way of commiseration with fishless purple rod.
Now, I have missed out Socialising as a stand alone topic, but I trust you will agree with me that
an American Clave is merely an excuse for participants to socialise to the max.
& I think this is a good thing.
It is de facto fish conservation.
& there is a lot of this because Claves have a habit of attracting rain.
So attendees get to huddle together for comfort & what can one do in those circumstances but eat,
drink & tell lies. Outrageous untruths. Veritable supercharged bull dust.
All about fishing
None of which is actually undertaken.
In fact most, if not all Clavees would not even notice if they left their rods at home.
GS
NZ
Purity to follow
Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 16:40:49 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: Whats a clave - Antipodean # 1 - Genesis - Part 1 of until I get
thrown off
Despite the slander regarding gestating ewes issuing forth on this list from known porcelain
collectors, I guess it is time to share some insights from an actual NZ clave.
The participants have been heavily disguised in order that the libel laws do not clean the
writer out. The source is a diary kept by 1 of the participants, SG. Who shall remain anonymous.
June 22 2000 or was it 1999,?
SG can't remember.
1900 hrs, telephone rings at SG residence.
"G'day, BC here"
"G'day mate, how's it going?"
"Great mate, how's it going with you?"
"Great"
"Yeh"
"So what can we do you for"
"What?"
"Why did you ring?"
"Oh, oh, yeah right - I thought you rang me. Lets see, its like this. I've got HBG coming over from Oz & the callous b-stard wants to go & slaughter lake
spawners & he also wants to try some river fishing at the same time"
"Ah ha"
"& Sister Sue tells me that 3 people make up a clave"
"Ah ha"
"& we've tried every body else, but they can't make it"
"Ah ha"
"Your our last hope, we're bloody desperate mate"
"Ah ha"
"So would you like to come?"
"Ah ha"
"Waddya say?'
"Um, well, I cast like crap"
"That's ok, your just there to make up the numbers so we can call it a clave.
It'll be the 1st FF@ Clave in NZ"
"Oh, ok, thats alright then -Where shall we meet?'
"See you Friday, car park just north of the Turangi road bridge over the Tongariro, 1500 hours"
"Gottcha'
"Oh, by the way, you can bring your teddy or bunny if you want, I'll have mine & HBG's bringing his stuffed Koala."
"Er, ok"
GS
NZ
Date: Fri, 21 Sep 2001 15:10:42 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: Whats a clave? - DUC1 - The Rendezvous
1500 hrs, SG is pulled up at the rendezvous spot.
SG enjoys the road trip.
Driving from the anonymous departure point and heading North to slowly climb to the Central
Plateau. About 5 hrs at the wheel, through rolling green farmland & towns still in the 1950's
- laid back, easy paced.
1st stop Levin for a leak
Bulls for an icecream
Taihape for a Latte' & Greek Salad, plus a Venison sandwich (Venison steak, onion rings,
lettuce, tomato, mango chutney) to take for the munchies on the Desert Road.
& roll on down the blacktop into Turangi.
His cellphone rings.
"G'day mate - its BC.
look, we're gonna be a bit late.
HBG hasn't quite got his quotta.
We'll be with you in about an hour"
"Quotta?"
"Yeah, he's got a bet on with a mate in OZ that he can C&R an average of 50 a day"
"Strewth, I'd be happy to get 50 in a lifetime"
"Yeah, me too, but he takes his angling very seriously - these have to be over 10Lb too -
makes it a bit tricky"
"Strewth"
"Yeah"
"Strewth"
"Yeah, well must go, he's just into another one. Its a biggie"
"How big?"
"Oh, I dunno, maybe 3 feet"
"Long?"
"Nah, wide, fat little buggers in this lake, look like small heifers, without legs of course"
"Strewth"
"Yeah, know what you mean"
"Strewth"
"Yeah, well must go mate, need the front end loader to land this one"
"Strewth"
"Yeah, must go. I've got him lashed to a car, but they're starting to slide towards the water"
"Strewth"
"See ya"
"Strewth"
"Oh by the way, did you bring teddy or a bunny"
"Um, bunny"
"Whats he called?'
"Bartholomew"
"Bit of a poncey name mate"
"I dunno - he's not pink - , whats yours called?'
"What?"
"Your bunny"
"Haven't got one. Got a teddy"
"Whats it called?"
"Throckmorton"
"What?"
"Throckmorton - nuthin wrong with that is there mate?", BC responded defensively.
"It was me mothers. Family heirloom. Worth more than the house. Sorry, gotta go, he's starting to
shout for help. Don't know why the silly bugger doesn't cut the line - but you know what they get
like when they're on quota"
"Tell me about it'
"I would mate but I think he's about to drown"
"See yah"
"See yah"
"Strewth"
GS
NZ
Date: Fri, 21 Sep 2001 17:17:19 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: DUC1 - After the Rendezvous
1700 hrs & still no sign of BC or HBG.
SG is beginning to get hungry.
Just then a 4wd truck races into the car park, 2 neo clad gents alight & head for SG.
BC extends a hand - "G'day mate, sorry were late, had to pull someones car from the water
before we could leave."
"G'day mate", HBG said as he stretched out his hand to SG, but his eyes were focused
on the river.
Silently he glided to the edge.
Then he froze on 1 leg.
Like a bearded flamingo, finger outstretched
"What the hell is he doing?" whispered SG to BC
"Ah, you'll get used to it, he's spotted a fish."
"Whenever he spots a fish he points"
"I only thought dogs did that" SG replied
"My point exactly - - here hand him his rod"
BC passed a rod to SG who passed it to BC.
There was a cast
A strike
A rapid reel in
A rapid C&R
"Thats 42 for today. Lets go"
"What?" SG asked
"We're off to the TT"
"But I haven't eaten" SG protested
"At least for an hour" he added.
"HBG's eyes narrowed "Are you here to fish or eat mate", he asked quietly.
"Both actually", SG replied.
"Well you can eat when we've finished fishing"
& before he knew it SG was in the back of the 4WD & headed for the Tauranga Taupo.
At the TT river side car park, BC & HBG leaped from the cab & crept towards the river.
SG got out & admired the scenery.
In the distance he could see BC & HBG peering over the edge of the bank then start talking
excitedly in sign language.
They ran back to the 4wd.
"5 big ones down there mate", BC said as he got his rod off the truck.
"Are you ready to go?"
"ER, not quite. Once I have put on 2 pairs of polyprop leggings plus my thermosox, a polyprop
singlet, a merino long sleeve singlet, my polypile jacket, my 5mm neos, my windbreaker and my
vest I will be ready to join you.
"Holy sh-t, you don't need all that stuff. I just wear 7 mm neos." BC offered.
"Your kidding. It is winter"
"Nope, sleep in them to. They go on when I leave home & they come off when I get back"
"Strewth"
"HGB here, he wears more - a hair shirt & a disposable.
"Hair shirt?' SB asked somewhat stunned.
"They're great mate when your trying to stay awake at 11.30" HBG added. "You should try one"
"Nah, too hot at 11.30 in the morning.
"No mate, 11.30pm"
"Strewth" SG thought, these blokes are serious.
"Now don't forget bunny", BC added
"Bunny?"
"Yep, its good luck. We always do well when we have our mascots with us'
"That right HBG?"
"Sure thing BC,- here", & he opened his casting basket to show his stuffed kangaroo -"Meet Skeepee"
"G'day" said SG before he could catch himself.
Well bugger me he thought - if anyone sees us on the trail they'll think we've robbed some poor
kids Winnie the Pooh collection.
But he still stuffed Bartholomew into the back of his vest.
"Got your underwear on back to front?' BC asked
"What?" a stunned SG replied
"Your underwear - you've got to wear it back to front - always works"
"How do you mean"
"I never get anything if I've got mine the right way around"
"But you don't wear any" SG replied.
BC thought about this for a moment.
"Ah, but I wear my Neos inside out, so thats ok"
"Are you superstitious?' SG asked BC
"Nah, not me mate, nah'
"How big are your nipples" asked BC
"What!!"
"Your nipples- how big are they?"
"Why?"
"I just wondered"
"Gentlemen - shall we?", HBG interrupted, motioning toward the river.
"You guys go on, I'll catch up", SG said.
So BC & HGB left at the trot.
SG got out an apple and after a reflective crunchy munch languidly tossed the core over
his shoulder.
In the general direction of the river.
There was an explosion of explecitives & the core came rocketing back.
"Ooops, sorry", SG called out as he looked in his fly box & at what he had on the sheepskin
fly patch on his vest & tried to decide which fly looked the nicest next to a GRHE.
GS
NZ
Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2001 12:06:03 +1200
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: DUC1 - The sheep myth debunked
"Ever done a Perendale?" BC asked SG as they stretched out on their bunks in the spartan room in
the spartan motor camp.
It was 1am, Saturday morning. They'd just got back from the mouth of the Waimarino. It was a
moonless night. After SG & HBG had run up & down the TT to no avail, HBG had insisted they go
night fishing until he had got his quota.
SG had protested so vehemently about the lack of regular meals that they had allowed him 2 minutes
to get a pie from a gas station. He was not a happy chappy.
"Nah, plenty of Romneys & Southdowns though" SG replied as his guts rumbled. "Once went through a
small flock of Southdowns in 3 hours" SG added. "They were pretty clean, didn't take long. It helps
when they're clean."
In the corner, HBG was on the point of nodding off. Now he lay transfixed. He had heard about this
peculiar NZ custom, but never believed it had gone on. Now he was being regaled with the sordid details.
BC chimed in - "Tell you what mate, if you ever get a chance, do some Perendales - they just love it.
Very easy to work, you can flip them on their back or turn them around, even stand them on their head
if you want, they're that easy - & they never protest. Just lie there & let you get on with it."
" But your Romney - now there's a fighter. Never met one yet that would keep still while I got ready.",
BC added "Yeah, know what you mean about the Romneys", SG replied. "I won't do any unless I've clipped
their toe nails first. Got badly gashed once, one of them started kicking."
"Its hard enough to hold them still then turn them around, let alone get the job done when they're
trying to kick the sh-t out of you."
"If I get a Romney now SG, I don't muck around - I jam her head under my crutch & put a leg lock on
her. That usually quietens them down. Then I can get the long blows in & she's all over pretty quick."
"You sods are disgusting", came the anguished cry from HBG's corner.
"Waddya mean?" a surprised BC responded.
"I've been sat here for the last 1/2 hour while you 2 go on & on in gory detail about shagging sheep",
HBG protested. "Its aberrant - its not natural -you know that don't you! - Why can't you stick to
kangaroos like the rest of us?"
"Hang on a minute mate", BC laughed. "We were talking about shearing sheep - you know, when you take
the wool off them with the electric clippers."
"Oh."
GS
NZ
From: Glen Spackman
Subject: Re: DUC1 - Roo truth
This ones for you Mike.
[Silence had descended on the spartan & cold room in the spartan & cold
motor camp in Turangi.
It was 2am, Saturday morning.
In 3 hrs they would be up and at em again.
Running up & down the Tongariro, from pool to pool.
Meeting quotta.
But not SG.
Not a chance.
Once kitted out, running was the last activity our amiable but corpulent
angler could manage.
Did the Michelin man run?
No!
SG would refuse.
He would take station at a pleasant pool with a nice bacon & egg pie,
(bacon, eggs, peas, onions, vintage tasty cheese, basil), tomatoe sauce, a
good book & a
latte' & he would offer moral support and
encouragement as HBG & BC jogged their way to fame.
"Get yr finger out you lazy bst-ds" would be the friendly & jocular
exhortation as they passed & repassed his
repasting post.
SG & BC had laid to rest the misunderstanding over sheep shagging & sheep
shearing.
HBG now accepted that the latter was the national NZ past time, not the
former.
They were relieved they hadn't had to use role play to hammer the point
home.
But SG's interest was piqued.
He had that annoying characteristic of picking up on small detail as it flew
over his head.
"HBG, did you say, & I quote - "
"Why can't you
stick to kangaroos like the rest of us?"
HBG paused for a moment, but being a man of virtue & truth even though he
was orstralian, he gave it straight from the shoulder.
"I may have"
"Ah, are you saying that close, very close, some would say perhaps,
intimate, - relationships between aussies & roos are rampant?",
BC asked from out of the pre dawn gloom.
HBG sighed -" its not that simple BC.
"Yes, it does go on.
Its prevelant right through all socioeconomic levels.
Its there, but people just turn a blind eye."
"Here", HBG said & handed BC & SG some business cards.
"I've got a mate who runs an escort agency in Perth.
If your ever over there, he'll see you right"
SG held the card up to the moon light from the moon less night, without
avail.
Next he tried the phosphoresence off the flourescent flies on his vest.
No luck.
His eye sight was shot at the best of times.
"Where's Tam with her batteries when you need her", he muttered to himself.
The headlights of a passing SUV driven by a fleeing photographer pursued by
2 women on mountain bikes flashed through the grimy window pane.
For a moment he could see clearly now - He read out the card in a slow &
faltering voice:
"Kuddly Kangas"
"The best Thumpa Rumpa Pumpa this side of the Black Stump"
"Your house, Motel, Hotel, Outcall"
"Full service agency"
"What does Full Service mean?", asked SG, who was naive in these matters
due to the purity of his mind & life experience.
BC rolled his eyes, due to the probable impurity of his life experience.
Indeed, it was not commonly known that at age 13 he had taken the town moped
for a ride.
Unlicensed
Unprotected.
No helmet.
Shocking.
HBG advised - "It means you can get anything from a massage to Thai Kick
Boxing"
"Really, Thai Kick Boxing?" SG responded, disbelievingly.
"Yep, you'd be surprised how popular it is among the professions.
Many a member has gone 3 rounds with their favourite roo."
It's replaced S&M as their most popular menu item"
"S&M? -whats that", SG asked.
BC's eyes rolled again.
HBG continued - "Salads & Mango" " - they used to get the roos to dress up
in school uniform, then they'd throw salads & mango at each other -
took them back to their boarding school days, apparently"
SG was rendered speechless at the thought.
Not so BC, who had seen it all before.
But his interest was historical -
"How did all this start?", asked BC, who was wondering how it all started.
HBG sighed again. He knew it was going to be one of those sighing nights.
"Goes way back to when the cattle graziers were breaking in the outback.
They were on their own, their nearest neighbour might be a 1000 miles away."
"A lot of roos were culled then, but some of the joeys, the baby ones - they
were adopted as house pets, hand reared"
"They formed very close relationships with their care giver"
"They were very difficult times"
HBG let another sigh go & a tear formed in the corner of an eye-
"So, you're a lonely grazier,
out in the outback,
on your own,
all that loneliness,
all that dust,
- god the dust,
it was terrible,
- red dust everywhere,
& you've spent 15 hrs in the saddle,
its Saturday night, time to unwind,
you're out on the verandah with a cold one
& the sun is dipping below the horizon.
What do you want to do?
- "Of course, - you feel like a waltz, maybe a foxtrot or the Valetta!"
"But your nearest neighbour's daughter is a 3 day round trip - & the moment
will have passed by then.
What are your options?
Well, pretty sparse - its the broom stick or there's Daphne.
At 5' 8" on her hind legs, soft, friendly, amenable - what would you guys
choose?"
"Well?, don't tell me it wouldn't be Daphne, because I won't believe you!!"
HBG was becoming somewhat emotional.
Roo relationships were obviously something he felt passionate about.
"Were there any goats available?, BC asked
SG shot him a look.
"Geez BC you know goats can't dance", SG cautioned.
"Nope, no goats, just Daphne or the broom stick."
"So of course Daphne won every time & many deep & lasting relationships were
formed on a saturday night on the outback verandahs of this great nation of
ours."
"Then came urban drift and many of the girls ended up working in
suburban escort agencies."
"They're a natural for the job. With that joey pouch they can carry a ton of
condominiums & they can also get the credit card zip zap machine in there"
HBG cleared his throat, as if he had something important to say
"It's not commonly known, but you may be aware that in my professional
capacity
I am involved in legislative reform.
Well, I'm also legal adviser for Roo Rights.
We are a small group of activists struggling to improve the lot of roos in
escort agencies.
We've had a few victories.
Before I joined, - the roos had to go to outcalls in the back of the Ute.
Now they ride up front with their driver." He explained proudly.
"We've got them holiday pay too"
CB had been quiet for a while as he absorbed the news.
"So, how many roos have you been with in your time then?", BC asked HBG.
There was a pregnant pause.
"Actually BC, none. I'm a wombat man myself"
GS
NZ
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