SPOOKIE !!!!!!

Have you ever had one of those days when you cease to be amazed at the natural world and the animals that inhabit it?


I have not long been a farmer of Pet Sheep and I am still coming across some surprising occurrences. I have often wandered why Sheep regardless of where they are, how well they are trained or what they are doing with inexplicably have a panic attack turning their more leisurely scampering into a polite stampede.

Mine are usually led by Farsi who seems frightened even of her own shadow. Once this Muslim Merino takes off the remainder of the flock, as if on some kind of Hajj, will inevitably take off with her.

Farsi hasn't been living at our place very long, having recently arrived as a Boat Sheep, so I have not had the chance to really sit down and have a woman to sheep talk with her. I often notice her gazing off into the western dusk just before Prayer Time.

Last Friday was different however. It must have been the end of Ramadan. I was lazing in the hammock in the afternoon sun reading the Linton Ewes when I felt her quietly come up beside me and after she checked the others were off eating decided to confide in me. She brought her mouth up to my ear.

“ I see dead sheep” she whispered.

I knew that I had to get this astonishing story off to the Astonisher as soon as I could. Not being a particular religious person I did have to do a bit of research as to the possibility of this phenomena before putting pen to paper, and this is what I found.

What I believe Farsi was seeing was not actually dead sheep but Jinns. (See footnote)

The Prophet Muhammad said: There are 3 types of Jinn; One type flies through the air, another type consists of snakes and dogs. A third is based in one place but travels about.

I'm not quite sure if he was speaking of Amir (The Jinn who resides with people) or The Gin (who resides in cocktail bars) For sheep I dare say it is most likely 'The Bobbin' (that resides at the end of a spinning wheel). Anyway Farsi drew from deep within her fleece, I suspect from somewhere under her tail a copy of the Quran. And so it came to pass that she did read from it to me.

"And their recompense shall be Paradise, and silken garments, because they were patient. Reclining on raised thrones, they will see there neither the excessive heat of the sun, nor the excessive bitter cold, (as in Paradise there is no sun and no moon). The shade will be close upon them, and bunches of fruit will hang low within their reach. Vessels of silver and cups of crystal will be passed around amongst them, crystal-clear, made of silver. They will determine the measure of them according to their wishes. They will be given a cup (of wine) mixed with Zanjabeel, and a fountain called Salsabeel. Around them will (serve) boys of perpetual youth. If you see them, you would think they are scattered pearls. When you look there (in Paradise) you will see a delight (that cannot be imagined), and a Great Dominion. Their garments will be of fine green silk and gold embroidery. They will be adorned with bracelets of silver, and their Lord will give them a pure drink." The Quran [76:12-21]

Lo and behold she did finish reading the passage to me and it was good. Getting up from the hammock to refill by wine glass I did suffer from a dizzy spell and I imagined that Farsi was wearing a belt of explosives around her waist.

So it came to pass that I too see dead sheep. There Farsi lay in the Freezer where I placed all the parts that I could find scattered around the property and I celebrate that Ramadan is over.

De auteur ist aan dik slob.

Maxine Suffolk - Spiritual Correspondent

Footnote: The Jinn are beings created with free will, living on earth in a world parallel to mankind. The Arabic word Jinn is from the verb 'Janna' which means to hide or conceal. Thus, they are physically invisible from man as their description suggests. This invisibility is one of the reasons why some people have denied their existence. However, the affect which the world of the Jinn has upon our world, is enough to refute this modern denial of one of Allah's creation.

DRUGS AND BLOW-INS

Billy the Goat got into the feed shed the other day and devoured at least two kilograms of Wild Bird Mix. It’s not the fact he just helped himself, and now looks like he swallowed a soccer ball, but it is the after-effects that worry me. Ever since eating the bird seed he has been experiencing some sort of trip.

It even happens with the sheep. If some bird seed accidentally spills on the ground as I’m dispensing it into my patented high-enough, non-tipable, tree mounted bird-feeder (An old glass ashtray jammed into the fork of a nearby tree) Bill and all the sheep start fighting over the spoils. They will butt heads and generally hassle each other for the honour of rubbing their noses in the dirt to vacuum up bird seed.

Bill however, upon catching sight of one or two lonely seeds in the shed, will flick his tongue (a-la-K.I.S.S) through the gap between the floor and wall of the shed and slobber up every single seed within reach. He will also nudge the tin wall to get in closer. It’s a bit off-putting watching a little pink wet thing French kissing the cracks in the wall. I’m worried. Are bird seeds a drug, a kind of ‘marriage-a-wanna’?

What got me onto this subject was a conversation I had with a long-term resident about Blow-ins. Apparently a blow-in is anyone who was NOT BORN IN THE TOWN (or arrived here before the death of Queen Victoria). There are contradictions of course. You cease to be a Blow-in if you marry a Certified Local. What he could not answer was ‘If two Blow-ins have a baby, is that baby then a Local?’
Anyway this person claimed that there were no drugs before the Blow-ins came to town. No crime, no wife-bashing and certainly no disrespect for the Constabulary. I argued that there have always been drugs in every town. How many hotels did the area have in it’s good days? Cigarettes? What about the blokes on Viagra?
My friend could not accept the fact that drugs and drug use are not confined to us City-slickers or Blow-ins. I’m no gambler (the last time I played a Poker Machine it had a handle on it and took Pennies) but I’d bet a considerable sum of money (say a quid) if anyone could prove that NO LOCAL has ever taken drugs.
There are pills and potions for going to sleep and getting up, suppressing our appetite or getting it going, slowing us down, speeding us up, making us happy and calming us down.

“Want a mood? Here take this”.

I am not advocating the use, growing or the sale of any drug illicit or legal, but I do object to sweeping statements such as ‘Locals don’t use drugs’.

On another subject. I must also make mention that a little birdie told me (or that’s all I’m saying) that the reason many of the recognised true Locals do not participate in anything around town is because they are supposedly sick of all the Blow-Ins telling them what they need to do for the town to stay alive, to attract new residents who are preferably younger than Moses, promote tourism and hence new or more successful businesses.

OK so some of us ‘newbies’ do participate on committees that are about as progressive as a Barn Dance, mixing and matching ideas and activities that eventually lead you back to where you started but we are alive and kicking at least. I for one want to participate in the life of the town and not just to sit in a corner and rust away, or only walk as far as needed to peek through the gaps in the lace curtains. I refuse to do-se-do myself into a grave.

Tribalism has gone the same way as the Flat Earth Society. A Local to me is anyone who has made a commitment to the town, has bought into the town, supports local business or contributes to the community. It is not someone who barricades themselves inside a fortress and throws rocks at passing strangers yelling ‘begone ye debils’.

That reminds me of a conversation I had with my relocationists over moving my house onto the block.

“What day would you like to move?”

“4th November”, I said.

“Why that date?” he questioned.

“That’s the ‘Back to Linton Festival Day”,

I replied.

“Is that significant?” he asked.

“Well they will most likely have a Parade and I could decorate the moving house with balloons and bolster up the show as it came through town”.

He laughed quite loudly. “Fat chance’ he said, “The parade’s been called off. The only Girl Guide has gone off on a camp”.



GODFREY ZONE

BUTCH 1

This reporter is a syndicated columnist and would like to let people know that part of this particular story originated in 'The Linton Astonisher'.


Over the last several months Golden Plains Council have instigated a series of meetings about 'How To Attract Tourists To Our Town”. They've been getting their heads together here and there with residents and organisations to come up with ideas of how we might attract tourists and visitors to our little towns. Several meetings were held and many ideas positive and practical were put forward in brainstorms. You could almost hear the air crackle with excitement over some of the more silly ideas.

These signs of course would have place names changed to protect the innocent. But lets look at some of the better ideas that flew around the table at the Linton meeting.

An idea that we construct a giant Water Fountain outside the Take-away. One suggestion was it be a dog cocking it’s leg over the Rotunda another was that as we were in sheep country that it be a huge ewe having a polite pee which, if there is enough water available, could double as a Free Drive-Through Car-Wash.

Of course there is always someone worried about the type of people the town would attract. Do we really want geriatric Trailer Trash or Bikers from Bunningyong.

Someone from Happy Valley suggested that we re-forest a property with trees that form a ginormous four-letter word that could be seen from space. People examining 'Google Earth' would be attracted to the town and the property to ask 'Why is it so?”

Public seating was a good suggestion. We could recycle the dozens of second-hand seats secreted away by Council and place them outside every business in the town. They might even do it free of charge considering how much shop-keepers pay in rates. With the majority of Townies being in the 50-69 age group it will not be many years before shoppers would have to sit down every 25 metres or so and have a 20 minute chat to themselves.

Five suggested sights were outside the Grocer Shop, the Post Office, Pioneer Memorial, the War Memorial on the Avenue of Honour and the Hairdressers, they being places a lot of gabbing goes on. The stupid idea that they (old people) could be also used to inflate hot air balloons was quickly dismissed.

A brilliant suggestion was that we install Coin-operated Power Outlets on various posts around town so that Grey Nomads could plug themselves in for the night. Naturally only level ground would be suitable, the design of some Campervans would make it most likely that the hilly nature of Linton would ensure Grandma spent a lot of time on top of Grandpa.

Another suggested the same thing could be done near the Recreation Reserve with suitable toliets and showers. The City of Goulburn in NSW once boasted that it had the most modern dunnies in Australia so they would attract people to drive through town instead of the highway by-pass. We are not sure how many people had to go and see someone about a dog as a result of that.

It was added that there are not that many Caravan Parks that allow pets like Dogs, Horses, Sheep or Giraffes so we could construct special cages (possibly recycled from Guantanamo Bay) to house pets and other things overnight.

There was a couple of half-hearted attempts to involve GP Council such as the suggestion they mainatin the roads better. The pothole in Standpipe Road might be a deterrent to tourists.

With only the Cemetery Trust and Two Businesses represented (the Progress Association doesn't count) the turn out for meetings was pretty poor. I was only there because I'm a bloody stickybeak. Just as an aside if you look at a map of Linton it appears that the Cemetery is as large as the town itself. Is there a significance in this? Could it be used to attract tourists who have already passed on but would like a better view?

So I have taken on the task of coming up with some ideas of my own to put to you, the people of Woady Yaloak, to either praise or mock. Some of us sheep think that you humans shouldn't have it all to yourself when it comes to the thinking up of things.

Folgenderer Monat, Butch

THE LINTON PUB CRAWL

By Allan Packer
(Community Development Correspondent)

Of late there has been a really concerted drive to publicise the merits of Linton and District and attract tourists. One idea raised was that we should publish a Fine Dining Guide to the town. It was to this suggestion that I volunteered to do the necessary research and visit the various licensed establishments and rate them for excellence. I chose one particular night to visit all establishments so that I was in a similar mood at all of them and not give biased information.

The first establishment I visited was the Railway Hotel. As my Doctor had advised that I could have only one glass of wine every day, but didn’t specify how many times that glass could be refilled, I ordered a bottle of Queen Adelaide, my usual drop whilst I established the quality of service this hotel provided.

I met David the Licensee in the company of one of the more regular patrons who, it appeared, could even have an argument with a place mat. Both were watching four-stick football on the TV.

On asking what was special about the place I was told about ‘The Belvedere Room’ a special Dining Area for quiet, intimate dinners. I asked if they served ‘Sheep’s Brain Burgers’ but was advised that they might be available at the next pub because they serve a lot of tripe down there.

I finished my bottle of red wine and asked for directions to this ‘next pub’. David told me to go out the bar door and turn left. Walk past the CFA station and just keep turning left and eventually I would come to the next pub.

After the first couple of turns I sorted of half fell past a little dolls house with a big aerial in one of the streets, opposite a little church hidden behind the shrubbery. I then did a couple of lefts near the Post Office and there it was, a well-lit eclecteric sign that said ‘Linton Hotel’ although the lettering was a bit blurry and flickered a lot. I found and entered through an arched entry door marked Eclectic.

Once inside I espied a little window opposite the Emporium and tapped on it. It slid open and a girl who introduced hershelf as Bev appeared on the other side.

I ordered my bottle of Quit Adelaide and walked through to a room that contained a Pool Table and a Nuke Box. Someone called Mick, or Nick or Rick or something was practising Pool for the impending Competition. I didn’t think that playing with two balls of each colour was the proper way to play. Bev the Barkeep in between Doo-wops and Dipsy Doodles let me know that Pizza was available 7 days a week except on Monday and No, I must have been mislead about the Sheep’s Brain Burgers. Maybe the next pub had them but she hadn’t been down there for a while but they offal a big menu..

Watching some more peoples alive for the Pools thingy I finished my second bottle of Queer Adeline, asked Bevery directions and off I went.

Following her instructions after going through the arched doorway I was told to turn right five times and I’d get to the next pub. I past the Craft Shop and the Hairdressers and hung two rights, here I found another pissy little painted shed with a rooly stupid tower in front. Finding it hard going tramping through the shrubbery in the middle of the street and doing two more rights lo and behold about 420 paces or twenty metres later there was the ‘Wailray Tofu’.

I didn’t realise that there were two steps through the door and only slipped up one. As a result I leaned forward too quickly and noticed some very interesting knots in the tongue and groove flooring.

I introduced my self to the bar lady who said she was Krisp or something and I ordered my third bottle of Quick Acid. She was also serving Pony the Tainter at the time.

I think Krisp might have needed a glass glasses because she kep kept going in an out of focus. The goodness at this place were a bit lower than the others. The floor swayed an the bar kept moving away from m…me. One thing in common was that they all support the football team Adrenelin Blackbirds. This hotel has a Rest..Resta…Bist…..has a Café open on Frifridays and S.s.s.s…aturdays where I bleev can you get a good moll at affords prides an …forg …why bliddlin..duggle.

WE MUST APOLOGISE FOR THE STORY ENDING HERE. THE WRITER HAS JUST BEGUN RE-EXAMINING THE FLOOR BOARDS.
(Editor)

When the writer woke up he wished to state that he does not condone nor endorse irresponsible drinking of any alcoholic product including after-shave.

SPOOKIE !!!!!!!!!! By Maxine Suffolk - Spiritual Correspondent

Have you ever had one of those days when you cease to be amazed at the natural world and the animals that inhabit it?

I have not long been a farmer of Pet Sheep and I am still coming across some surprising occurrences. I have often wandered why Sheep regardless of where they are, how well they are trained or what they are doing with inexplicably have a panic attack turning their more leisurely scampering into a polite stampede.
Mine are usually led by Farsi who seems frightened even of her own shadow. Once this Muslim Merino takes off the remainder of the flock, as if on some kind of Hajj, will inevitably take off with her.

Farsi hasn't been living at our place very long, having recently arrived as a Boat Sheep, so I have not had the chance to really sit down and have a woman to sheep talk with her. I often notice her gazing off into the western dusk just before Prayer Time.

Last Friday was different however. It must have been the end of Ramadan. I was lazing in the hammock in the afternoon sun reading the Linton Ewes when I felt her quietly come up beside me and after she checked the others were off eating decided to confide in me. She brought her mouth up to my ear.

“ I see dead sheep” she whispered.

I knew that I had to get this astonishing story off to the Astonisher as soon as I could. Not being a particular religious person I did have to do a bit of research as to the possibility of this phenomena before putting pen to paper, and this is what I found.

What I believe Farsi was seeing was not actually dead sheep but Jinns. (See footnote)
The Prophet Muhammad said: There are 3 types of Jinn; One type flies through the air, another type consists of snakes and dogs. A third is based in one place but travels about.

I'm not quite sure if he was speaking of Amir (The Jinn who resides with people) or The Gin (who resides in cocktail bars) For sheep I dare say it is most likely 'The Bobbin' (that resides at the end of a spinning wheel). Anyway Farsi drew from deep within her fleece, I suspect from somewhere under her tail a copy of the Quran. And so it came to pass that she did read from it to me.

"And their recompense shall be Paradise, and silken garments, because they were patient. Reclining on raised thrones, they will see there neither the excessive heat of the sun, nor the excessive bitter cold, (as in Paradise there is no sun and no moon). The shade will be close upon them, and bunches of fruit will hang low within their reach. Vessels of silver and cups of crystal will be passed around amongst them, crystal-clear, made of silver. They will determine the measure of them according to their wishes. They will be given a cup (of wine) mixed with Zanjabeel, and a fountain called Salsabeel. Around them will (serve) boys of perpetual youth. If you see them, you would think they are scattered pearls. When you look there (in Paradise) you will see a delight (that cannot be imagined), and a Great Dominion. Their garments will be of fine green silk and gold embroidery. They will be adorned with bracelets of silver, and their Lord will give them a pure drink." The Quran [76:12-21]

Lo and behold she did finish reading the passage to me and it was good. Getting up from the hammock to refill by wine glass I did suffer from a dizzy spell and I imagined that Farsi was wearing a belt of explosives around her waist.
So it came to pass that I too see dead sheep. There Farsi lay in the Freezer where I placed all the parts that I could find scattered around the property and I celebrate that Ramadan is over.

De auteur ist aan dik slob.

Footnote: The Jinn are beings created with free will, living on earth in a world parallel to mankind. The Arabic word Jinn is from the verb 'Janna' which means to hide or conceal. Thus, they are physically invisible from man as their description suggests. This invisibility is one of the reasons why some people have denied their existence. However, the affect which the world of the Jinn has upon our world, is enough to refute this modern denial of one of Allah's creation.

MAXINES FINALE

(and she is still alive)

Last month I took a deliberate break so as to force the rest of my Editorial Team? to step up to the keyboard and not leave it all to me?

In the last issue Bob made a credible go at telling us all about the RSSS. Since I gave Maxine access to email and a Tom Hanks big button keyboard that fits her hooves she has been getting a little political and I don’t quite trust her to type intelligent. It is even worse? with other members of the flock? some of them can’t be trusted to even eat their fruit salad? For example I don’t let Betty anywhere near the keyboard since I caught her copying articles from the internet? And sending them to the Linton Ewes? She has always dreamed of winning that great American? Award for writing ‘The Pullover Prize’?

Then I found Roast playing Twister? with Casserole on it yesterday and I’ve just discovered Butch, with his sick sense of humour, has been sneaking a hoof in to my keyboard and tapping the question mark? every now? and then? Please pause your reading for a moment?

(This paragraph has been censored so as to protect the squeamish)

Now that I have restocked the freezer with lamb I'll continue my story. The flock have continued their ‘apartheit’ program against strangers like ‘Hayu’. They all give chase to him and not let him near any of the good bits I feed them. Brussel Sprouts last night. I still have to feed him separate to the others even though he’s more than 6 months old, and since I collected him from the neighbours after the big blow he has become a bit more assertive and the foot stamping now appears to be directed solely toward me.

For weeks Max has been trying to solve the problem and had been gathering the flock down by the dam, heads together, mumbling to one another. As soon as I approached them they break up and go off in different directions feigning interest in little tufts of grass.

It appears that she has being trying to convince the others that sheep with white faces or black fleece are just as good as those with black faces and white fleece. Of course she over-reacts to everything in her usual way and sets out to upset all the others in the paddock with her socialist ideals. Maxine has been hand-reared you see and she thinks that it puts her a bit above the proletariat.

Xenophobia, apartheid and racism have always been a pet subject with her especially among all the other pets, and she is constantly on the lookout for bullies or any sign of social exclusion that may be developing in her local community. I can’t recall how many placards I’ve had to paint for her to carry around but I definitely draw the line at allowing her to picket the Premiers office.

And now for something completely different. There is something that I have wanted to discuss for a long time and I don’t have much space left. Seeing that in past stories we had broken the ice with the subject of sex, I feel that we can now talk about other bodily functions. Especially since the vegetarians have been driving me mad with their constant TV advertising about saving the world by stopping animals from breaking wind. Are there such things as ‘pet corks’ for cats and dogs?

I know it’s a really odd note to end on but then who said anything about me being normal in the first place.

Did you know that Alpacas have a preference to stand steady and let loose only in certain spots. They may be only fifty metres apart but their little dung heaps present the picture of a more orderly animal, even if one of the poo stations they have chosen is in the middle of the driveway. But it’s really easy to shovel up and deliver to the compost heap or liquidising bin.

Horses and cattle are even more polite, at least they will raise their tail to signal you to stand clear, not that they always give you much time. Sheep on the other hand, probably so they don’t waste time thinking will leave their little pellets anywhere and they can even do it while still walking.

Well I suppose that’s as far as I can go for the moment, it’s as far as I have gone in my ‘tree change’, the house is still not complete but that’s another long story, and I’ve only just got the electricity connected but I am now able to sit down on a flushing toilet. I could never accept the idea that, like sheep, you could do it while still walking.

This is, for the moment, the last in this series “The Adventures of Maxine’ but be assured that she will be back bigger, better and of course ‘super-sized’. Next year I hand over to another contributor for this space.

GODFREY ZONE

HEY SCROOGE! IT'S CHRISTMAS

OR
‘How to shorten the Checkout queue.”

This is the time of year when the shops start getting crowded and you are nowhere near the end of your Christmas shopping list. Everywhere you go there are lines, queues, numbered tickets or sales clerks lazily checking out their hair if their a girl or sorting out their crutch if their a boy.

Here is a hint about how to get through the checkout quicker, or even how to get them to provide you with services before anyone else. It has everything to do with the right music. Christmas music, music with tinkling things and ringing things.

It works best with a basket, not so well with a trolley. First approach the checkout and select the shortest queue if there is one. Maybe 15 people or less.

Stand in the shop where you can be clearly seen. At home you might want to go to the bedroom alone to rehearse this as you read it.

Stand straight at first clutching your shopping basket in the left hand. Now, lower the basket almost to the floor, this will give you a slight forward lean. Tuck your right arm to your chest as though you were holding a bottle of milk in your armpit or maybe pretend your doing the chicken dance.

Next raise your face toward the people in the queue in front of you. Twist your mouth to one side and start dribbling. Make sure you have a well-hunched back.

Now for the ‘piece-de-resistance’ slowly, almost like a whisper and repeating the mantra each time getting louder, let the saliva drip from your lips while at the same time crying out demonically ‘the bells, the bells, the bloody bells’

Now as you shuffle your way towards the cashier, it’s amazing how quickly people will stand aside for you and let you get through the checkout process in record time.

If you have a trolley you need to vary the shuffle to include pushing it along with your knuckles or kicking it forward with your foot.

With appropriate music it will also work a treat at Centrelink or your Bank. It is however NOT recommended to do it anywhere that disability or mental services are provided.

MAY WE WISH ALL OUR READERS A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A JOYOUS NEW YEAR.

WITH ALL OUR LOVE

Maxine Suffolk, Robert Le Billdeux, Mary, Betty and Butch Lamb, Casserole, Roast, Kebab, Panchen and Dali.

PLEASE EXPLAIN

The Arabs who demonstrate against the west and want to destroy America -

WEARING GAP T-SHIRTS AND NIKE TRAINERS

So called Australians complaining about how many Chinese there are -

WHILE EATING TAKE-AWAY SWEET AND SOUR CHICKEN

Why do signs in the back of cars that say ‘Baby On Board’ not add the words -

AND SAFELY NAILED TO IT

THIS MONTHS STUPID IDEA

Why don’t we install speed limiters on cars for certain drivers rather than put speed limits on all cars.

For example-
Red P – Engines limited to 80K/hr
Green P – Engines limited to 100K/hr
If the maximum speed in any state is 110K/hr then why not have limiters on all cars to 140 K/h. I suggest the extra 30Kph so that the Police can still raise some revenue from motorists exceeding the speed limits.

Maybe to slow people down and visit lovely Linton that between the Police Station and the Post Office we have a speed limit of 3Kmh. That would be slow enough for the Grocer to employ someone to sell goodies literally door to door and save the Pub putting in a drive-through Bottle Shop.

THIS MONTHS SOMEONE ELSE SAID

“TITLES ARE TINSEL, POWER A CORRUPTOR, GLORY A BUBBLE AND EXCESSIVE WEALTH A LIBEL ON ITS POSSESSOR.”

Percy Byshe Shelley, Declaration of Rights, 1812.