The Aussie Humour Thread

[Loophole LaRue, SASS #51438]

13 hours ago, Buckshot Bear said:

That's it.

 

From now on. I identify as a male koala.

 

What are my pronouns?

 

LL

[Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062]

12 minutes ago, Loophole LaRue, SASS #51438 said:

That's it.

 

From now on. I identify as a male koala.

 

What are my pronouns?

 

LL

 

He

Him

His  &

Hey You

[Alpo]

I see in that payday picture that Kentucky Fried has french fries in Oz.

 

Is that instead of smashed taters, or in addition to?

 

Cuz they don't sell them here in the states.

[Sedalia Dave]

2 hours ago, Alpo said:

I see in that payday picture that Kentucky Fried has french fries in Oz.

 

Is that instead of smashed taters, or in addition to?

 

Cuz they don't sell them here in the states.

 

Since when???

 

https://www.kfc.com/menu?utm_source=Google&utm_medium=Search&utm_campaign=sitelink&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=mc_bowls_ntl&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=&utm_term=&utm_content=s_pcrid_619174570785_pkw__pmt__pdv_c_slid__pgrid_139882413100_ptaid_dsa-1456984599784_&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIjvSSluTL-gIVxjetBh0b-A-WEAAYASABEgLxzPD_BwE#featured

[Alpo]

Your link never opened. However, I found this

 

https://www.today.com/food/kfc-now-serving-french-fries-they-taste-just-its-chicken-t161955

 

This is from 2019. Only 3 years ago.

 

>The move is pretty surprising considering the chain has never offered french fries in the U.S., and while they are available at other KFC locations around the world, they aren't seasoned. The chain's seasoned wedges (the closest thing KFC offers to a fry currently) won't be going anywhere anytime soon, though.<

[Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062]

7 hours ago, Alpo said:

I see in that payday picture that Kentucky Fried has french fries in Oz.

 

Is that instead of smashed taters, or in addition to?

 

Cuz they don't sell them here in the states.

 

 ..... as well as ..... 

[Buckshot Bear]

@Alpo

 

The Slab

 

https://www.kfc.com.au/menu/limited-time-only/the-slab-combo-for-1

 

[Alpo]

I thought a slab was a case of beer?

[Buckshot Bear]

3 minutes ago, Alpo said:

I thought a slab was a case of beer?

 

KFC are exploiting the term.

[Buckshot Bear]

The old Golden Fleece Restuarant's inside the servo.

 

[Buckshot Bear]

Were kerosene heaters a thing in the USA? The fumes used to make you very sleepy!

 

 

[DeaconKC]

Yup, BB, the kerosene heaters were widely used in the 70s and 80s. With a lot of deaths from carbon monoxide poisoning, many municipalities banned them.

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

[Alpo]

Six inch wheels??

 

Hell, even a bicycle for a 3-year-old has got 10-inch wheels. I think the smallest Wheels I've ever heard of on a car is 13 inch.

 

6 inch??

[Buckshot Bear]

3 minutes ago, Alpo said:

Six inch wheels??

 

Hell, even a bicycle for a 3-year-old has got 10-inch wheels. I think the smallest Wheels I've ever heard of on a car is 13 inch.

 

6 inch??

 

Think that's referring to rim size, they stopped making the shaggin' wagon in 1980, they are collectors items now and go for big bucks.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holden_Sandman

[Sedalia Dave]

1 hour ago, Alpo said:

Six inch wheels??

 

Hell, even a bicycle for a 3-year-old has got 10-inch wheels. I think the smallest Wheels I've ever heard of on a car is 13 inch.

 

6 inch??

 

Width not height.

[Kid Rich]

10 hours ago, Buckshot Bear said:

When I was younger I'da put one of those on my pickup if it got that kinda action.

kR

[Buckshot Bear]

There definitely must have been no rain forecast!

Bags of wheat awaiting shipment at Cowell.

Cowell is a coastal town on Franklin Harbor on the eastern side of the Eyre Peninsula, in South Australia on the Lincoln Highway

Circa 1925

 

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

[Gateway Kid SASS# 70038 Life]

1 hour ago, Buckshot Bear said:

Close. 
Have never seen a koala outside a zoo but big grizzlies can get up to 410 kg or about 900 #’s and over 8 feet long. Coastal browns in Alaska can get between 1000  and 1200 #’s

Regards

    

Gateway Kid

Just shows a diet rich in fish, clams and sedges can build strong bodies 12 ways 

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

Clancy of the Overflow

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better

Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,

He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,

Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'.

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,

(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)

'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:

'Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are.'

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy

Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;

As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,

For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him

In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,

And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,

And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy

Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,

And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city

Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all.

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle

Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,

And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,

Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me

As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,

With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,

For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,

Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,

While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —

But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of 'The Overflow'.

 

 

[Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062]

A True Australian Classic. 

 

 For those of you who have seen the movie "The Man From Snowy River" one of the characters is "Clancy", the same man written about in the poem posted above.

 

Both poem/stories were written by A.B.(Banjo) Patterson, an early Australian icon  

 

( I say "poem/stories because they are both long-ish poems that tell wonderful stories )

[Brazos John]

That's so much like the American cowboy poets.

They tell stories that take you to the place and time of the hero. There's no screen to watch, you have to listen with your ears, or read the pages with your eyes, and picture the action in your mind. 

Thanks for this, and for all of the other Aussie photos and things that you post.

 

[Buckshot Bear]

5 minutes ago, Brazos John said:

That's so much like the American cowboy poets.

They tell stories that take you to the place and time of the hero. There's no screen to watch, you have to listen with your ears, or read the pages with your eyes, and picture the action in your mind. 

Thanks for this, and for all of the other Aussie photos and things that you post.

 

 

Very nicely put Brazos John.

[Buckshot Bear]

With the Cattle Banjo Patterson

The drought is down on field and flock,
The river-bed is dry;
And we must shift the starving stock
Before the cattle die.
We muster up with weary hearts
At breaking of the day,
And turn our heads to foreign parts,
To take the stock away.
And it’s hunt ’em up and dog ’em,
And it’s get the whip and flog ’em,
For it’s weary work is droving when they’re dying every day;
By stock-routes bare and eaten,
On dusty roads and beaten,
With half a chance to save their lives we take the stock away.

We cannot use the whip for shame
On beasts that crawl along;
We have to drop the weak and lame,
And try to save the strong;
The wrath of God is on the track,
The drought fiend holds his sway,
With blows and cries and stockwhip crack
We take the stock away.
As they fall we leave them lying,
With the crows to watch them dying,
Grim sextons of the Overland that fasten on their prey;
By the fiery dust-storm drifting,
And the mocking mirage shifting,
In heat and drought and hopeless pain we take the stock away.

In dull despair the days go by
With never hope of change,
But every stage we draw more nigh
Towards the mountain range;
And some may live to climb the pass,
And reach the great plateau,
And revel in the mountain grass,
By streamlets fed with snow.
As the mountain wind is blowing
It starts the cattle lowing,
And calling to each other down the dusty long array;
And there speaks a grizzled drover:
‘Well, thank God, the worst is over,
The creatures smell the mountain grass that’s twenty miles away.’

They press towards the mountain grass,
They look with eager eyes
Along the rugged stony pass,
That slopes towards the skies;
Their feet may bleed from rocks and stones,
But though the blood-drop starts,
They struggle on with stifled groans,
For hope is in their hearts.
And the cattle that are leading,
Though their feet are worn and bleeding,
Are breaking to a kind of run–pull up, and let them go!
For the mountain wind is blowing,
And the mountain grass is growing,
They settle down by running streams ice-cold with melted snow.

. . . . .

The days are done of heat and drought
Upon the stricken plain;
The wind has shifted right about,
And brought the welcome rain;
The river runs with sullen roar,
All flecked with yellow foam,
And we must take the road once more,
To bring the cattle home.
And it’s ‘Lads! we’ll raise a chorus,
There’s a pleasant trip before us.’
And the horses bound beneath us as we start them down the track;
And the drovers canter, singing,
Through the sweet green grasses springing,
Towards the far-off mountain-land, to bring the cattle back.

Are these the beasts we brought away
That move so lively now?
They scatter off like flying spray
Across the mountain’s brow;
And dashing down the rugged range
We hear the stockwhip crack,
Good faith, it is a welcome change
To bring such cattle back.
And it’s ‘Steady down the lead there!’
And it’s ‘Let ’em stop and feed there!’
For they’re wild as mountain eagles and their sides are all afoam;
But they’re settling down already,
And they’ll travel nice and steady,
With cheery call and jest and song we fetch the cattle home.

We have to watch them close at night
For fear they’ll make a rush,
And break away in headlong flight
Across the open bush;
And by the camp-fire’s cheery blaze,
With mellow voice and strong,
We hear the lonely watchman raise
The Overlander’s song:
‘Oh! it’s when we’re done with roving,
With the camping and the droving,
It’s homeward down the Bland we’ll go, and never more we’ll roam;’
While the stars shine out above us,
Like the eyes of those who love us–
The eyes of those who watch and wait to greet the cattle home.

The plains are all awave with grass,
The skies are deepest blue;
And leisurely the cattle pass
And feed the long day through;
But when we sight the station gate,
We make the stockwhips crack,
A welcome sound to those who wait
To greet the cattle back:
And through the twilight falling
We hear their voices calling,
As the cattle splash across the ford and churn it into foam;
And the children run to meet us,
And our wives and sweethearts greet us,
Their heroes from the Overland who brought the cattle home.

 

 

[Buckshot Bear]

[Buckshot Bear]

[Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062]

7 hours ago, Buckshot Bear said:

 

 ................. now, .... that's a disappointment ........  

[Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062]

5 hours ago, Buckshot Bear said:

 

 

 ............ how many times was that sign stolen before the barbed wire was installed ?  

[Buckshot Bear]