Father Ted
First Grade
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http://www.southernhighlandnews.com.au/story/2021705/st-george-dragons-and-other-pests/?cs=262
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St George, dragons and other pests
By Geoff Goodfellow
Jan. 15, 2014, midnight
WITH another rugby league season just around the corner, I guess we should brace ourselves for the usual onslaught of drivel from St George supporters once again.
They are a dead set menace, aren't they?
The Rural Lands Protection Board has to deal with rabbits, the council noxious weeds blokes are worried about the spread of serrated tussock and the rest of us have to put up with St George fans.
FOR some reason these red and white pests are everywhere, with infestations in all our towns and villages across the Highlands, but perhaps the biggest colony is across the river in Moss Vale.
Their footy team even wears a similar strip as St George with a fiery dragon emblazoned on the front.
You go to the newsagent for the morning paper and there is Heath reading the form guide in his red and white jumper on game day. Next door at the Credit Union, Webby is annoying anyone who listens as he prattles on about his mighty dragons.
They are everywhere - at the baker, in the butcher shop, out at the council depot and in tradie's trucks. You see them on farms, out shopping or in the pub. They are in plague proportions.
WHY are there so many St George supporters I wonder?
Perhaps it has something to do with those eleven premierships they won from 1956 to 1966 when people 'of a certain age' like me, were impressionable kids watching Reg Gasnier, Johnny Raper, Billy Smith, Brian Clay and Graham Langlands doing amazing things on the football paddock.
THERE is a lovely tale about a legendary rugby league player and coach, who died and was waiting at the Pearly Gates trying to get in when met by the heavenly gatekeeper.
"G'day," said the footballing legend, "wondering if you could let me into Heaven?"
"Depends on whether you have led a worthy life," said the gatekeeper.
"I've been pretty good," he said, "but I did beat the crap out of Rex Mossop in the 1959 grand final against Manly and got sent off."
"So you're Harry Bath then?" said the gatekeeper. "Go right through mate and welcome to Heaven."
"Thanks Saint Peter, but what about the fighting in that 1959 grand final?"
"No problem Harry, and I'm not Saint Peter," said the gatekeeper with a cheeky smile. "I'm just looking after the Pearly Gates for an hour while he has some lunch. I'm Saint George."
WHICH brings us to Dudley who was driv
ing on a lonely country road in England on the night from hell.
Rain was pelting down, the wind was howling, it was pitch black and the dirt road was becoming very treacherous. The windscreen wipers couldn't keep up and the lights struggled to make it to the road ahead.
Then, in the midst of this fearsome storm at around midnight, with not a soul in sight, his car broke down, miles from nowhere. So Dudley set off along the muddy road to search for help. He walked and walked and walked. At about 4am he spotted a light in the distance.
As he got closer to the light, his luck changed. It was the George and Dragon Hotel. A warm bed for the night.
Dudley knocked on the door - cold, muddy, soaking and looking like a vagrant. After a while the publican's wife came to the door, sleepily pulling a dressing gown over her night attire. She took one look at Dudley on the step and cut loose.
"What are you doing knocking on my door at 4 am. What a hide. You dirty, filthy, rude man. Get out of my sight and don't come back here."
Dudley didn't say a thing and didn't move from the doorstep.
"Why are you still standing there?" bellowed the publican's wife, issuing forth another tirade of abuse as she prepared to slam the door.
"I was just wondering," stammered Dudley, "if I could possibly have a word with George."
MAY the 2014 rugby league season be a good one and let us pray those bloody dragons don't win too many games. Their supporters will be insufferable.
Larger / SmallerNight Mode
St George, dragons and other pests
By Geoff Goodfellow
Jan. 15, 2014, midnight
WITH another rugby league season just around the corner, I guess we should brace ourselves for the usual onslaught of drivel from St George supporters once again.
-
This is what your average local St.George supporter looks like. If you see one coming towards you, it is best not to establish eye contact and slowly back away. Photo by Geoff Goodfellow
They are a dead set menace, aren't they?
The Rural Lands Protection Board has to deal with rabbits, the council noxious weeds blokes are worried about the spread of serrated tussock and the rest of us have to put up with St George fans.
FOR some reason these red and white pests are everywhere, with infestations in all our towns and villages across the Highlands, but perhaps the biggest colony is across the river in Moss Vale.
Their footy team even wears a similar strip as St George with a fiery dragon emblazoned on the front.
You go to the newsagent for the morning paper and there is Heath reading the form guide in his red and white jumper on game day. Next door at the Credit Union, Webby is annoying anyone who listens as he prattles on about his mighty dragons.
They are everywhere - at the baker, in the butcher shop, out at the council depot and in tradie's trucks. You see them on farms, out shopping or in the pub. They are in plague proportions.
WHY are there so many St George supporters I wonder?
Perhaps it has something to do with those eleven premierships they won from 1956 to 1966 when people 'of a certain age' like me, were impressionable kids watching Reg Gasnier, Johnny Raper, Billy Smith, Brian Clay and Graham Langlands doing amazing things on the football paddock.
THERE is a lovely tale about a legendary rugby league player and coach, who died and was waiting at the Pearly Gates trying to get in when met by the heavenly gatekeeper.
"G'day," said the footballing legend, "wondering if you could let me into Heaven?"
"Depends on whether you have led a worthy life," said the gatekeeper.
"I've been pretty good," he said, "but I did beat the crap out of Rex Mossop in the 1959 grand final against Manly and got sent off."
"So you're Harry Bath then?" said the gatekeeper. "Go right through mate and welcome to Heaven."
"Thanks Saint Peter, but what about the fighting in that 1959 grand final?"
"No problem Harry, and I'm not Saint Peter," said the gatekeeper with a cheeky smile. "I'm just looking after the Pearly Gates for an hour while he has some lunch. I'm Saint George."
WHICH brings us to Dudley who was driv
ing on a lonely country road in England on the night from hell.
Rain was pelting down, the wind was howling, it was pitch black and the dirt road was becoming very treacherous. The windscreen wipers couldn't keep up and the lights struggled to make it to the road ahead.
Then, in the midst of this fearsome storm at around midnight, with not a soul in sight, his car broke down, miles from nowhere. So Dudley set off along the muddy road to search for help. He walked and walked and walked. At about 4am he spotted a light in the distance.
As he got closer to the light, his luck changed. It was the George and Dragon Hotel. A warm bed for the night.
Dudley knocked on the door - cold, muddy, soaking and looking like a vagrant. After a while the publican's wife came to the door, sleepily pulling a dressing gown over her night attire. She took one look at Dudley on the step and cut loose.
"What are you doing knocking on my door at 4 am. What a hide. You dirty, filthy, rude man. Get out of my sight and don't come back here."
Dudley didn't say a thing and didn't move from the doorstep.
"Why are you still standing there?" bellowed the publican's wife, issuing forth another tirade of abuse as she prepared to slam the door.
"I was just wondering," stammered Dudley, "if I could possibly have a word with George."
MAY the 2014 rugby league season be a good one and let us pray those bloody dragons don't win too many games. Their supporters will be insufferable.
