Bugga Me, A bit more would ya' believe

“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.