Orlright, settle down kiddlies. And let's have a bit of shoosh.
Yes, you too Shawna. Righty-o Ahmed, let go of Nguyen's shirt.
Get yerselves a good pozzie on the logs and yer old Uncle Clarrie'll tell yez all a beaut yarn.
This one's about a codger I knew 40 year ago when I was shearin' around Forbes. Do you know where Forbes is kiddlies? Now don't use swear words, Jason.
Now this bloke's name was Chicka I think. Chicka ... Chicka ... Chicka Taylor, if I recall right. Let's just say it was Chicka Taylor, cause your Auntie Maureen, she reckons I wouldn't remember me own name if she didn't write it on me lunchbox. Any'ow, this codger Chicka, he
'ad this bottler of a yarn about the mozzies in Griffith.
Now Griffith's a bonza place, real pretty like. And they reckon the grapes they grow in Griffith is some of the best plonk grapes in the world. That's why they call it the Riverina,
'cause it's just like the Riverina in France. Not that I know a lot about plonk, not like yer Auntie Maureen. She likes to give it a nudge and she reckons the Griffith plonk is real fruity. I don't know about that –I wouldn't drink the stuff even if it did have a head on it. Not that I'm a conna-swah really. Not like Auntie Maureen with her Ben flamin' Ean and
'er TR2.
Chicka goes bunny bashin'
So any'ow Chicka was doin' a pickin' season in Griffith and one night he decides to relax and do a bit of rabbit shootin'. So he's out in the scrub baggin' a few bunnies and then he reckons it's time to kip. So he rolls out
'is swag and puts out 'is campfire and 'e's tryin' to catch a few zeds when the old Riverina Raiders come buzzin' at
'im. That's right, Kirsty, flamin' big Griffith mozzies. It's dark and he can't see
'em, but they're buzzin' round 'is scone and stingin' 'is face and the whole bush sounds like the Bee Gees.
Now there's nothin' worse in the whole world than Riverina mozzies. They're big as Maggie Tabberer and they're mean as Peter Reith's dog. This Chicka fella,
'e tries everything to get them to p ... excuse the French kiddlies, to buzz orf. He rubs flamin' citronella over hizself,
'e sprays the avagoodweegend all over 'is swag and he gets so upset 'e even tips a bottle of whisky on
'is pillow. A real shame that was.
But nothin' gets rid of them Murrumbidgee marauders, not even Johnny black label – ask yer Auntie Maureen about that – she gets stung and she still gets stung! (heh heh!). So young Chicka,
'e's goin' bonkers with millions of huge mozzies 'e can't even see, after 'is blood. So
'e packs up and jumps into an old water tank 'e finds near a burnt-down homestead near camp. Soon Chicka's
'appy as a Sheila's Day party at the Family Court, and 'e settles down fer a good night's cuttin' zeds in that empty tank.
Old Chicka's jest gettin' orf ta sleep when he
'ears a funny noise. 'E lights a redhead and sees that one of them mozzies 'as gorn and stuck
'is big proboscis through the wall of the tank. No Amelia I'm not being rude. Very funny Ahmed.
Bent schnozzolas
Chicka gets
'is tommyhawk and bangs over the mozzie's schnoz. Then another mozzie sticks
'is nose through the tank, and Chicka Taylor belts it and bends it over. This goes on half the flippin' night, until Chicka finally gets so tired he falls asleep, with hundreds of bent mozzie conks stickin' through the corro iron like Granny's
'atpins.
Now, you might not believe this. Youse might think yer old Uncle Clarrie's jest spinning yez a yarn, but Chicka Taylor swore it were true. The next mornin',
'e goes outside to 'shake orf the dew' and finds 'e woke up in flamin' Wagga Wagga. That's right Nguyen, them flippin' Murrumbidgee mozzies with their noses bent over in Chicka's tank
'ad picked the whole thing up, Chicka and all, and flown it to Double Wagga.
Now, me old Uncle Perce used ta say that if you sit in a garage for 20 years you won't turn into a car, but if you sit in a barber chair for 20 minutes you'll get a haircut. No one in me family never knew what he meant by that, but we all say it, sort of a family tradition like, like Christmas and varicose veins. And and I suppose I could say it about Chicka Taylor's amazin' flight.
Kirsty, be a darlin' and ask Auntie Maureen to fetch me tobacca, will yez sweetheart? Ta. Helps me corf up all that black muck off me lungs.
So much fer the story of Chicka and the mystery flight. World's as mad as a pig in a synagogue, and I tell yez that fer nothin'. Always was, always has been.
See yez another night, kiddlies. Sleep tight. Don't let the bugs bite.
« Another Campfire Yarn with Uncle Clarrie
