Bondi Bruce here
just been listening
to those Holy Mollies
Outside of Bruces beech
bar. Giving it plenty of oomph
they were, a hymn here or a
prayer over there, and the chants.
Even made me feel guilty just for
taking the good sea air in me lungs.
Streuth, they gave me some dodgy
glances when I started pulling out the
tabs on me tinnies. Might have been
the welcome sound of me cool amber
nectar as it fizzed its way into me old
slurp hole. Looked pleased with them-
selves they did as I skidded me way home
for me shut eye. Of course I had to have a
word. Told ‘em, Angels voices ever singing
wasn’t my cup of tea. Not that I drink that
stuff. Sooner drink koala pee than a cuppa tea.
Mind you, you get some nice looking Sheilas
in the Sallies, with navy uniforms and they
know how to wiggle those hips with tambourines.
When I got back home, I turned on the telly and
clicked on Crocodile Dundee. Now there’s a guy who
knows how to squeeze nuts. Got the girls though,
he even got the Sheilas eating out of his grubby paws.
I need a nightcap before I turn out for work tomorrow.
Jeez, no lagers left in the cooler. No good me calling
out the Flying Doctor service for that, gave me a hard
time a few years back when I called up Wolambula base.
They said I was a disgrace to the cause. I think I’ll ask them
next door if they keep anything in stock. Oh no, I think I
can hear those Sallies again. They’re coming this way.
Time to pull those drapes together again. I’m done.
Can’t stand the jingly tambourines or piety