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The Aussie Humour Thread


Buckshot Bear

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7 minutes ago, Buckshot Bear said:

460123201_554327023789730_7844125018809568593_n.jpg.28228ddff551727dfea6bfaff23fd632.jpg

The math doesn't equal out so I did some reading.   They overcorrected to plan for future drift.  

 

No wonder it is so hard to get an Australian to go back home when their visa expires, their home isn't where they left it.

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FASTEST AUSTRALIAN SHEARER- 1892
National Museum Australia.
Jack Howe was a shearer whose feats in the sheds of central Queensland made him a legend. In 1892, Howe sheared 321 sheep in one day using hand shears – a record that still stands today.
John Robert Howe was born in Warwick in southeast Queensland in 1861. Known as Jack or Jackie, he worked as a shearer and settled in the Blackall district of central Queensland. He became famous, a gun shearer, setting records that stood for decades.
Physical descriptions paint Howe as a giant of a man, with hands the size of small tennis racquets and wrists as strong as steel. He set records even when other shearers tried to distract him, by tickling him or jumping on his back. His presence in a shed was said to lift tallies far above normal, as men tried to compete with him.
At Alice Downs station in Queensland in October 1892, Howe sheared 1437 sheep in a week. A few days later, he broke another record, shearing 321 sheep in seven hours and 40 minutes.
Howe performed both feats using blade shears and, despite the introduction of machine shearing technology, his record tally of 321 sheep remained intact until 1950.
In the same 1892 season, Howe also broke the record for machine shearing at Barcaldine Downs, where he sheared 237 sheep in one day using the new technology.
When Howe quit shearing in 1900, he became a publican and owned hotels in Blackall and Barcoo.
He had been an active member of the Shearers’ Union and he continued to advocate for workers’ rights as a member and president of the Blackall Workers’ Political Organisation. He was also a member of the fledgling Australian Labor Party. Howe died in 1920, aged 58.
PHOTO- Jack Howe, 1915
 
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2 minutes ago, Buckshot Bear said:

461179396_1041032230813868_3854524015905590751_n.jpg.339ea8235b013c824a4020eddfc54286.jpg

Okay, for those of us "up here", what is the answer?

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Lightburn's washing machine factory in Camden Park turns out Adelaide's own instant-oddity Zeta car, 1963-65
The Zeta, made from 1963 to 1965 by Lightburn and Co at its factory in the Adelaide suburb of Camden Park, became an instant car collector’s item because of its odd features and rarity.
Car enthusiast Harold Lightburn, the company's owner and founder, was convinced that many Australians wanted the convenience of a small second car. Lightburn, who normally made cement mixers and washing machines, introduced the Zeta in 1963, priced £595, but sold fewer than 400.
Zeta models were a sedan, sedan deluxe, utility and sports model. Lightburn also produced an electric “mobility-scooteresque” runabout vehicle capable of carrying two adults and available in two models.
The Zeta Sedan (or Runabout) and utility were powered by a 324cc Villiers engine and were front wheel drive with independent rear trailing arms.
The sedan had no rear hatch so the front seats had to be removed to access the cargo area. The chassis was steel, with a fibreglass body enclosing a large but sparse interior. Windows were perspex except for the front laminated glass windscreen. The doors were steel with sliding perspex windows.
The four-speed, dog clutch Villiers gearbox had no reverse so the engine had to be switched off and started backwards to provide four reverse gears. Fuel came by gravity feed from a tank behind the dashboard. The fuel gauge was a plastic pipe running from top to bottom of the tank with a graduated glass tube section on the dashboard.
The utility was the rarest Zeta with only eight produced. Some were bought by Sydney City Council for its Hyde Park fleet. The two-seater Zeta Sports was introduced in 1964. Like the Goggomobil Dart, it lacked doors and bumper bars. Only 28 w.
Image: From an advertisement for the Zeta sedan, "Australia's 'second' car", made in Adelaide's Lightburn suburban factory in the 1960s.
 
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2 hours ago, Gateway Kid SASS# 70038 Life said:

Still have a couple of those in the shed somewhere. If I can find em I’m gonna be rich!

Regards

:FlagAm:  :FlagAm:  :FlagAm:

Gateway Kid

Especially if ya got the covers

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A classic photo depicting five hard-working indigenous stockman at night camp at Newcastle Waters station Northern Territory. Newcastle Waters is a large cattle station in the Barkly Tableands about 290km north of Tennant Creek ( Date unknown)

 

461577882_122208055094021698_5621239107762312527_n.jpg.989ea1f2363b17416d9e33dfdbf60e21.jpg

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On 9/29/2024 at 1:05 PM, Buckshot Bear said:

461478753_3787782474865850_5179536679879609942_n.jpg.26ef3a237564b05b71f478d979980b07.jpg

 

   ....... there ustawas a 4th area, .......... but no-one ever came back from there to tell of it ......🙃

 

 

 

 

 

Edited by Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062
needed fixin', ...... badly
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Ballad Of The Drover
Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.
And well his stock-horse bears him,
And light of heart is he,
And stoutly his old pack-horse
Is trotting by his knee.
Up Queensland way with cattle
He's travelled regions vast,
And many months have vanished
Since home-folk saw him last.
He hums a song of someone
He hopes to marry soon;
And hobble-chains and camp-ware
Keep jingling to the tune.
Beyond the hazy dado
Against the lower skies
And yon blue line of ranges
The station homestead lies.
And thitherward the drover
Jogs through the lazy noon,
While hobble-chains and camp-ware
Are jingling to a tune.
An hour has filled the heavens
With storm-clouds inky black;
At times the lightning trickles
Around the drover's track;
But Harry pushes onward,
His horses' strength he tries,
In hope to reach the river
Before the flood shall rise.
The thunder, pealing o'er him,
Goes rumbling down the plain;
And sweet on thirsty pastures
Beats fast the plashing rain.
And every creek and gully
Sends forth its tribute flood —
The river runs a banker,
All stained with yellow mud.
Now Harry speaks to Rover,
The best dog on the plains,
And to his hardy horses,
And strokes their shaggy manes;
"We've breasted bigger rivers
When floods were at their height
Nor shall this gutter stop us
From getting home to-night!"
The thunder growls a warning,
The blue, forked lightnings gleam;
The drover turns his horses
To swim the fatal stream.
But, oh! the flood runs stronger
Than e'er it ran before;
The saddle-horse is failing,
And only half-way o'er!
When flashes next the lightning,
The flood's grey breast is blank,
And a cattle-dog and packhorse
Are struggling up the bank.
But in the lonely homestead
The girl shall wait in vain —
He'll never pass the stations
In charge of stock again.
The faithful dog a moment
Lies panting on the bank,
Then plunges through the current
To where his master sank.
And round and round in circles
He fights with failing strength,
Till, gripped by wilder waters,
He fails and sinks at length.
Across the flooded lowlands
And slopes of sodden loam
The packhorse struggles bravely,
To take dumb tidings home.
And mud-stained, wet, and weary,
He goes by rock and tree;
With clanging chains and tinware
All sounding eerily.
 
460839106_10160506939753553_6701692209720884797_n.jpg.b7218b05f1215a81c2502cfd5bdb6376.jpg
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23 hours ago, Buckshot Bear said:
Ballad Of The Drover
Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.
And well his stock-horse bears him,
And light of heart is he,
And stoutly his old pack-horse
Is trotting by his knee.
Up Queensland way with cattle
He's travelled regions vast,
And many months have vanished
Since home-folk saw him last.
He hums a song of someone
He hopes to marry soon;
And hobble-chains and camp-ware
Keep jingling to the tune.
Beyond the hazy dado
Against the lower skies
And yon blue line of ranges
The station homestead lies.
And thitherward the drover
Jogs through the lazy noon,
While hobble-chains and camp-ware
Are jingling to a tune.
An hour has filled the heavens
With storm-clouds inky black;
At times the lightning trickles
Around the drover's track;
But Harry pushes onward,
His horses' strength he tries,
In hope to reach the river
Before the flood shall rise.
The thunder, pealing o'er him,
Goes rumbling down the plain;
And sweet on thirsty pastures
Beats fast the plashing rain.
And every creek and gully
Sends forth its tribute flood —
The river runs a banker,
All stained with yellow mud.
Now Harry speaks to Rover,
The best dog on the plains,
And to his hardy horses,
And strokes their shaggy manes;
"We've breasted bigger rivers
When floods were at their height
Nor shall this gutter stop us
From getting home to-night!"
The thunder growls a warning,
The blue, forked lightnings gleam;
The drover turns his horses
To swim the fatal stream.
But, oh! the flood runs stronger
Than e'er it ran before;
The saddle-horse is failing,
And only half-way o'er!
When flashes next the lightning,
The flood's grey breast is blank,
And a cattle-dog and packhorse
Are struggling up the bank.
But in the lonely homestead
The girl shall wait in vain —
He'll never pass the stations
In charge of stock again.
The faithful dog a moment
Lies panting on the bank,
Then plunges through the current
To where his master sank.
And round and round in circles
He fights with failing strength,
Till, gripped by wilder waters,
He fails and sinks at length.
Across the flooded lowlands
And slopes of sodden loam
The packhorse struggles bravely,
To take dumb tidings home.
And mud-stained, wet, and weary,
He goes by rock and tree;
With clanging chains and tinware
All sounding eerily.
 
460839106_10160506939753553_6701692209720884797_n.jpg.b7218b05f1215a81c2502cfd5bdb6376.jpg

 

17 hours ago, Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062 said:

 

 

 

 ....... unfortunately, this was the fate of many

 

Get Home-Ittis has been the ruin of many.

 

The senior AD1 that signed off a large portion of my all system QAR PQS when I was in the Navy warned me about it. Said the the desire to get home after a deployment made normally cautious people to take unnecessary risks when it was time to fly home.

 

He was right. Experienced it twice during that tour. Fortunately by the book heads prevailed. 

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