“I got a staff problem, “The Mayor
told Bugga Me Bronson, in the strictest of confidence, and true to
his honesty and integrity, Bronson never disclosed the content of the
Mayor's problem for five minuets after the Mayor left the pub.
“So what's the problem...Can't get
any, or got to many?”
“Well its about Old 'Hang-about
Harrison” Mayor Sam confided, “He should be retired but he
hasn't got much to do at home, so it is a bit hard to put him off.”
“Well Bugga Me,” sez Bugga Me
Bronson, “Old Hang-about still hanging about, hey? How old is he
now?”
“Turned eighty-seven last week.”
“What's the normal retiring age on
this council?”Bugga Me asks.
“Sixty-five.”
“So, he is a bit over his time then,
“ Bugga Me makes the wonderful deduction, which surprises the
mayor at the man's mathematical capabilities.
“You could say that.” Sam rejoined.
“I just did, “ Sez Bugga me
Bronson, adding, “Does it cause any problems? ...I mean the
potholes are still as many as usual, the gutter we have in the main
street is always full of rubbish, and all the local signs are still
full of bullet holes, so everything seems normal.”
“It is, nothing has changed, other
than Gerry Atrick, the second in charge, is wanting to get
Hang-about's job.”
“So what is Gerry offering you in
cash for the position?” Bugga Me asks the obvious question.
“Shhh! Bugga Me! do you want everyone
to know that jobs can be bought on this Shire Council?”
“Everyone knows anyhow, so what's the
matter?” Bugga Me Bronson thinks that Sam is a little touchy about
the due course of council business.
“Who's been spreading that about?”
Sam pleaded.
“Me, “ Sed Bugga Me proudly, “The
citizens have a right to know, and some of them even want to work.”
'Tanyrate!” Bugga Me sez,” I can
see ya' problem; Hang-about is ya' big brother and Gerry is ya'
brother-in-law, an' ifn' I remember rightly the other two blokes on
the team are related somewhere...Funny thing how it is only your
family that have the qualifications to stand around a pothole, hey!”
“Are ya' suggesting that there is
something underhanded going on within council?” Sam reiterated,
having many times iterated the same reply previously.
“Never!, not I...I know that the hand
is well in view when there is some important business to
conduct...But isn't the General Manager supposed to do the hiring and
firing?”
“He hasn't got any relations here
abouts.”
“Right!” Bugga Me expostulated,
appreciating the reasoning, adding, “So ya' want a
solution...simple, tell them you are looking into it, they will
appreciate the political sound of that, and forget the whole thing
for a while.”
“Bugga me,!” the Mayor said, “Why
didn't I think of that?”
Bugga Me answered simply, “ 'cause
you ain't me,”
It was several days later, could have
been more, that Bugga Me was travelling along the corrugated road to
see a widow in the next village that had a problem she wanted
attended to, when there was the shire truck with four blokes standing
around on the side of the road. They had seen Bugga Me's dust about
half an hour ago, and as safety of the staff was most important tghe gang had
stood aside awaiting the arrival of the said vehicle.
“G'day. Hang-about.”
“Yeah, G'day”
“G'day, Gerry”
“Yeah, G'day”
“G'day, Donkey.”
“Yeah, G'day.
“G'day Quartpot.”
“Bugga Me, ifn it ain't Bugga Me
Bronson...G' day”
“Talkative bloke, ain'tcha?”
“So, what's happenin'?” Bugga Me
asks, knowing full well that very little ever happens with this lot.
“Just about to put the billy on.”
Sez Hang-about, who has that particular phrase as the particular
answer to that very question.
“Truth is, “ Opined Gerry, the
ambitious one, “We forget to bring the shovels.”
“Yeah! Bugga me, “ the master of
quick thinking replied, adding “ Well, I'm goin' inta' town, so,
I'll get someone to bring you some out to ya',”
“What'll we do in the meantime?”
the quick answer seems to perplex Hang-about.
“Simple, mate, Just lean on each
other until the shovels come.”
Bugga Me went into the shire depot,
disturbing a good game of cards, but he only had to wait for twenty
minutes until the game finished, which is pretty good for a Friday
lunch time, a lunch time that started an hour ago and wont finish for
at least another hour.
“Yeah! Joe” Bugga Me sed to the
storeman, “Hang-about forget to tell the blokes to take shovels,
and they are stuck for something to do, any chance of getting' some
out to 'im?”
“Geeze, mate, It's only an hour and a
half before they knock off...seems a bit of a waste of time, I
reckon...an' ya' know what the GM is like about wastin' time?”
“I do, I certainly do..on his
qualifications it stated that he was a time and motion man, he has
all the time in the world, but very little motion...He fits in
perfectly here, Hey?”
“Mate, Me old mate, seein' as ya' did
the right thing tellin' me about the shovels, and ya' drove all that
way in to tell me, I reckon the least we can do is let ya' fill the
ute up, waddyareckon?”
“Goodonya',” Sed the Bugga me man.
“We'll book it out to Missus
Lanious...She is always getting stuff of us.”
One day a Union bloke arrived in town.
His union was falling short on funds, and it is well known that
running Union can be very, I mean very, expensive.
Black Jack was well known out in the
back country, his exploits in obtaining Union members was a notorious
as another blokes efforts at gaining attention...Ned, Something, Ned
Kelly, year, That's it.
Not that Black Jack used a gun in his
pursuits, but he used the winner of all con tricks in an Outback
pub...Yep! Old Black Jack used money to shout the locals a few beers.
That will do it every time.
