The Australian Outback, an ancient land where the red-parched soil is touched by an endless blue sky and where confetti flutters on the breeze.
Hang-on, since when was confetti part of our outback landscape…?
On a recent foray into the outback we thought we were travelling behind a bus full of Japanese newly-weds…
You know, the ones you see down at the Historic Rocks precinct in Sydney on a Saturday morning.
Lots of smiling faces, nodding as only the Japanese can in their most polite way, married in large groups on the steps of Mrs Macquarie’s Chair overlooking the magnificent Sydney Harbour, and more confetti than you could poke-a-stick at.
Strewth, and just to be clear, lest I be accused of casting a racial slur…
I love the Japanese people.
What would lunchtime be without sashimi – Nikon camera’s weren’t the only thing they shared with the world. And hey, I’m not suggesting there were busloads of them in the outback throwing confetti everywhere either.
I was speaking metaphorically…(okay?)
But crikey – somebody must have been.
There was so much of it you could be forgiven for thinking that it must have come from a mass wedding.
Now I get it, it isn’t the most popular dinner party topic, but thanks to the hilarious 2006 movie “Kenny” we have at least got a little more comfortable discussing the issue around the camp fire these days.
And let’s not beat around the bush here, we are talking about “Poo Tickets”
Crikey, I thought everyone has watched that movie?
Toilet paper, you dill…!
Oh, stop cringing and shuffling in your seat…
And spare us the protest, Kenny dispelled many of those urban myths about…
Mine doesn’t smell and I always clean the bowel…
As a kid I used to visit my grandmother’s home in a small country town and she had an outhouse down the backyard. Anyone from the bush will know what an outhouse is and without doubt they’ve been the butt of many jokes for time eternity.
In Nan’s outhouse there was always a small box of matches sitting behind the door and she insisted one be lit each and every time you arose from the throne!
I thought this was normal and I don’t recall anyone ever complaining about the need to do it, it was just part of the routine…
Although, Uncle Bluey did complain about it once, but that was when my cousin accidently set alight to his prized Playboy Mag he had tucked down the back of the seat that us kids never knew about.
And mum’s still the word on that one..!
So why a box of matches?
Well nothing beats a freshly lit match to kill all other lingering smells …
Come-on, you’re not still cringing, surely?
Needless to say, caution should always be exercised when playing with matches and there was the time Bluey sent the outhouse door over the back fence after a brekkie of Heinz baked beans…(thank God for flushing toilet’s these days, hey)
I’m not sure what was funniest, Bluey sitting there in his navy singlet with his Y-Fronts around his ankles, or the dunny door in the neighbour’s mango tree.
He had that “eyes rolled-up, embarrassed” look that dogs get when your eyes meet as they do their business.
Dog owners will know what I mean…
But, here is the thing, we’ve always carried a little box of redheads when we are Out and About.
In one bold strike you fill the air with the smell of a freshly burning match after a squat, removing the need to protest yours doesn’t smell, and importantly, you can use it to burn your poo tickets…
So, for those of you that head bush please take “Miss Redhead” with you.
She may not ignite your passion, but in the least, she will put a flame to your “poo tickets” and spare our wonderful country the indignity of the unwanted and unsightly “confetti” that has increasingly become part of the landscape…
Baz – The Landy
Ps: Seriously, this is a major problem these days!
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