MEMORABLE MOMENTS
CAPTAIN FIZZ TAKES US TO A BRIDGE TOO FARCE AT DRUMMOYNE
Obviously Captain Fizz wanted to out-bridge Jacko the Out-Sourcer and Pay-Less at Clontarf. Having done the Harbour Bridge and the Anzac Bridge, he searched around Sydney for a suitable venue with a bridge at least higher than the Spit Bridge. He considered the Peat’s Ferry Bridge was too far north and the Captain Cook Bridge was too far south and many of the others were not near interesting On Ons like the Kasbah which was right near the Gladesville Bridge, a Bridge double the height of the insignificant Spit Bridge.
So there you have it. The Walkers were sent off on a brief tour of the waterfront either side of the Gladesville Bridge before crossing it backwards and forward and then back to the Beginning. Meanwhile Runners disappeared on a contrasting intellectual exercise of circumnavigating the low lying idiocies of Callan Park and the high flying confines of ambiguousness vested behind the walls of The Sydney College of the Arts. Finally, the diverse groups came together at the Bucket.
I joined the little shivering group at the Bucket, where the suggestion was raised that during “Brass Monkey” weather a drop of warm glauwine would be welcomed. The idea wasn’t exactly warmly received but there followed an interesting discussion concerning the derivation of the term, “Cold enough to freeze the balls off a Brass Monkey”. The suggestions were weird and wonderful even including a “Craig Thompson” explanation defying the imagination, that it was “Bells” not “Balls” “Class” not “Brass” and “Flunkey” not “Monkey”. Fortunately the subject was put to rest with the arrival of The Commodore, a knowledgeable old salt, who said it was a nautical term, much to the incredulity of all. The Commodore explained, in the days of sail on the men-of-war, they needed a good supply of iron cannon balls alongside the cannons. The rolling of the ship made stacking them in a pyramid difficult. The solution was a brass metal plate with round indentations to take the iron cannon balls. For reasons unknown it was called a Monkey, a Brass Monkey. Brass was used so that the iron cannon balls did not rust onto the plate.
Unfortunately brass contracts much more and much faster than iron in very cold conditions, so causing the iron cannon balls to roll off the shrinking indentations in the brass plate, the Brass Monkey. Hence the term, The Commodore explained, “It was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey”. You can always trust the Senior Service to come up with a plausible explanation. After that engaging history lesson it was off to the Kasbah.
Encouraged by Captain Fizz’ promotional piece, quite a number dressed up for the occasion. Major Disaster naturally over did it and distracted the kitchen staff with his Ottoman Sultan imitation. This unfortunately did cause the cooking and serving of the meal to be delayed for a while. The President cleverly filled in the gap by providing a heart-starter for all prospective applicants in the shape of a Defibtech Demo. Finally a delicious Moroccan Meal, enjoyed by all, got underway.
But one has to say the Joke session was once again disappointing. It had been hoped, now The Caught Jester is no longer distracted by dreaming up outstanding salad delights, the Jokes would naturally improve. It has proved to be a vain hope. He has however been encouraged to take up card tricks and sleight of hand that will make any poor jokes automatically disappear.
LIKE WEBSTER’S DICTIONARY THEY’RE MOROCCO BOUND
CAPTAIN FIZZ AND HIS THING WITH BRIDGES EXPLAINED
We are deeply indebted to a close associate of Captain Fizz for this detailed explanation.
Captain Fizz was a noisy, nosey little boy brought up in Dundiggin, an old gold mining town in British Columbia. The finds in 1897 never matched those of the neighbouring Bridge River District, and what gold was there has long since been mined out. Only the panned out salmon laden river, the dark, dangerous tunnels dug into the surrounding hillsides and odd pieces of rusting machinery are left to mark its passing. The noisy little boy with dreams and aspirations of being someone or doing something important was a real pest in the otherwise snoozing backwater. Probably if you dug down deep into the Fizz family history you would encounter an itinerant garrulous Yankee gold miner, who lost his way returning from trying his luck up on the Yukon. With little schooling available, the young boy was seconded to the local Militia to patrol the old mining tunnels and shafts to prevent small children from getting lost. In reality, the gentle townsfolk of Dundiggin hoped he was the one who might get lost. I hasten to add the Local Militia had a total compliment of one. He was it.
Then one day came the turning point in his young life. He was sitting with his friend Kevin in the town’s solitary hotel, the only spot where they could slyly get an under aged alcoholic drink, when the door bust open and in came a rotund individual carrying an enormous salmon. Clearly from his loud accent he came from below the Mason-Dixie Line. He turned to the two boys and in his subtle American way said “if you little buggers got off yer lazy arses you could catch a few for yer Ma and Pa for dinner”. The boys feeling they could touch this nasty piece of work for a few coins, humoured him and asked him what sort of rod, line and bait he had used to catch such a beauty.
“Bait ?! Nah. You do it the Wall Street way. You go to a little old bridge, get yer buddy to hold yer ankles, tickle the salmon under the gills and they jump straight up into yer arms. Simple. Even you young buggers could manage that.” And after imparting that priceless bit of Big City know-how, he departed with his salmon.
The boys look at each other and agreed they had never heard so much horse-shit in all their lives. But even so, their stick, string and bits of rotting meat combination had up to now, brought very poor results.
After many more under aged alcoholic drinks later, and promising to return to slip one up the middle-aged barmaid that evening, the two boys somewhat worse for drink, staggered out into the late afternoon. Wandering off down the road, Captain Fizz bleary-eyed, spotted a bridge in the distant. He gave Kevin a nudge, “a bridge,” he shouted, “let’s catch ourselves a salmon for dinner. If that fat-arse Yank, can do it, so can we.”
Naturally being in charge, Captain Fizz grabbed Kevin by the ankles and lowered him over the parapet of the bridge to catch the salmon for dinner. A few moments later, there was frenzied jerking from his daggling friend, accompanied by an agonising cry, “For fuck sake pull me up, there’s a fucking bus coming !”
Needless to say they never got their salmon. Ever since that memorable day, Captain Fizz has been wandering the world looking for a bridge he can lower some unsuspecting fool over to finally catch a salmon for dinner. You have been warned.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT…………THE CARBONISED SMOKE ENEMA
The Carbonised Smoke Enema is used to infuse tobacco or a low carbonised smoke into a patient’s rectum for various medical and dental purposes. It is primarily used for patients needing assistance in the relief of a multiplicity of digestive problems. The warm smoke promotes relief in the region of the large and small intestine. Warbs said he never had one in his dental practice because it could produce somewhat drastic side effects and he shared a toilet with a neighbouring beauty salon. We are pleased to announce that Stunning Jack has assured us one will be on hand at the Last Train to Bombay.