FOLK LORE
Back in the days when only bona fide travellers were permitted to
drink at hotels on Sundays, Queenstown gentry would travel to Linda
and Gormanston and partake of the hospitality that the local pubs
provided. On one particular Sunday, the hotels in Gormanston were
raided by the spoil sport squad intent upon interrupting a social
afternoon by treating the drinkers as felons who dared to corrupt the
sanctity of Sunday. During this particular raid, an enterprising
drinker by the name of Eric, slipped out the back door, crossed the
yard and leapt over the fence but the law was waiting for any such
resourceful law breaker who thought they could escape and Eric’s
name was duly recorded. After the law had left to terrorise another
hotel, the drinkers returned to the calm that existed before the
storm in the teacup, that interrupted their quiet Sunday afternoon.
Whether the squad were mean spirited or had a quota to reach is
unknown, but they returned to the hotel that they had first raided
for a repeat performance. Eric, ever the optimist and believing that
lightning does not strike the same spot twice, retraced his steps,
out through the back door, across the yard and over the fence into
the arms of the same guardian of the Law, who inquired of Eric,
“What’s your name this time?”
A smelters worker,
who boarded privately, complained to his land lady, that the cribs
she provided did not have much variety, next day he found his
sandwiches contained bird seed.”
From The Lions collection
of funny happenings on the West Coast, come the following anecdotes,
thanks to the persistence of Ray Beams. He called in at the local
mercer for a new hat. The mercer said, “I think you would take
about a size 7½.” “Don't be stupid,” the
customer replied. “I take a size 15½ in a shirt and my
head is bigger than my neck.” He also loved his camping and
once when tasting a stew out of a camp oven, he remarked, “This
stew is so lovely, it bring tears to your mouth.”
One
customer complained to her newsagent that the paper boy did not
deliver her paper. The boy was “chatted” every day and he
insisted that he had delivered the paper. One day the newsagent did
the paper round. He was about to drive away from the house when he
spotted the dog pick up the paper and take it to the goat tethered in
the yard. The goat had his free breakfast once again. Another boy,
when told he had missed somebody's paper replied, “I didn’t
miss him, the paper is on the roof.”
Back in the 1930's when
there were only a few cars in town, one of the top footballers was
booked to appear before the tribunal on a charge. Some of the
stalwart supporters who did not want to lose their top player decided
to take the Umpire for a trip to the King River. They left the Umpire
to walk home. He missed the tribunal, and the charge against the
player was dropped due to the absence of the Umpire.
In the days
when Sunday liquor trading was illegal, the pubs always managed to
open for “Sunday School” occasionally. A squad from out
of town would raid all the pubs and book anybody found on the
premises. On one occasion, a raid was in progress and the police were
at the door with their books, taking names of each person as they
came out one. A resourceful type known as Herbie, came to the door,
saw the books and when asked for his name said, “No thanks
Officer, I do not buy raffle tickets on Sunday”.
Athol was
an SP bookmaker. One of his clients, a pensioner, had had a bad day.
He had lost all of his money except for two pence, and the sole of
his shoe had parted from the upper. He approached Athol and said,
“That as he only had two pence left could he give him money for
a taxi fare home as he couldn't walk with his sole flapping”.
Athol, a man of soul, asked the pensioner for the two pence which he
handed over. Athol then produced a wad of notes about three inches
thick and removed the rubber band from the outside. Handing over the
rubber band to the old man he said, “Here, wrap this around
your shoe and you will be able to walk home.”
Another
enterprising resident owned a few horses and was getting sick of
people calling for free bags of manure for their gardens. When one
man called he said, “I am out of manure at present but if you
would like to buy a couple of bags of oats, I will put it through the
machine for you.”
Oggy was playing cricket at Gormanston and
was bowled out. He refused to go and sat in the middle of the pitch
saying, “If I can't play no one can,” Four cricketers had
to carry him off the pitch to let the game resume.
An
ex-serviceman called to join the RSL club. The secretary of the club
interviewing the man asked if he had any war records. “Yes,”
he replied, “I've got Vera Lynn singing, The White Cliffs of
Dover, Bless 'em All with George Formby, and Praise The
Lord and Pass the Ammunition by Dick Bentley.”
A famous
West Lyell story teller was Bill C. He was in London to receive a
medal during World War I and after the presentation, he strolled
through Hyde Park with King George and people passing by were asking
who is that chap with Bill C? Bill said things were very bad at
Gallipoli. He was advancing with the troops when a shell decapitated
the Captain. As the Captain's head rolled by it said, “Carry on
Bill, I'm buggered”.
One particular miner was always in
trouble with his wife for arriving home late for tea. One night he
got home very late and his wife was in bed. A note on the oven door
informed the overdue miner, “Your tea is in the dog.”
A
persistent TV salesman finally convinced Bull (address Zeehan Road)
that he should have a TV set. The antenna was erected and the TV set
up in the house. “Where is the nearest power point the salesman
asked of Bull?” “Probably in Queenstown,” Bull
replied as he was not connected to the electricity supply.
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Those were the days my friends, we thought they would never end.