I referred in an earlier ‘Blog’ on ‘What About Winx’ to our mature male camarilla of country which meets in a Scone café every Wednesday morning. Mysteriously one of our number was inexplicably absent for a few weeks. He is otherwise both an avid and regular attendee. The explanation which emerged later stretches the very borders of credibility. The main protagonist is from a scion pastoral family with a record of excellence in his contribution to Agriculture. He has been decorated by the Governor General at the highest level. The principal antagonist was a local Goanna resident in his garden. The story is roughly as follows.
The Goanna represented a threat to the chickens, chooks, eggs, small dogs and resident native birds. The spouse of the house wanted it removed. In hindsight it was unwise to approach the Goanna in coloured stockings across the lawn without any foot cover. The Goanna started out ‘at about 6ft from head to the tip of its tail’; more on this later. Grabbing a 6ft Goanna by the tail can be done if you are tall enough. However the mouth and fangs of the suspended reptile will be at about lawn level. Under the circumstances the coloured-stocking-covered big toe of the right foot of the human assailant must have seemed an irresistible morsel; either as foodstuff or aggressive protective instinct. It was; and did. The denouement would have been amusing if it wasn’t so painful and irksome. There aren’t many references to Goanna strike in the medical text books. Suffice it to say that the jaws of a large Goanna locked onto its target are extremely difficult to prise apart. Protestation and administration by a willing and able spouse at last contrived a release from lizard lockjaw using the appropriate farm weaponry. Both protagonist and antagonist escaped. However this was not the end of the story. The mouth and fangs of a mature Goanna harbour a rich multiflora of pathogenic bacteria. Infection set in; it took a lot of post-strike medical treatment to effect a full recovery. Fortunately the eventual outcome was entirely favourable with both honour and savaged-toe intact. The Goanna is still at large and has grown to 8ft with retelling. It’s proud custodian of one large severely traumatized multi-coloured sock much to the chagrin of the original owner who now only has one! ‘Wallaby’ enquired rather unkindly if the Goanna Hunter would wear steel-capped boots in future?
As is usual in the bush the telegraph works. The embellished story did the rounds. Some relatives on the dam’s side ostensibly from establishment Victoria excelled with exceptional poetry in response. Apposite artwork accompanied the exquisite prose. I acknowledge all the contributors although I indefatigably deny absolute identity of any? There are three components to the anthology:
I saw dis lizard yesterday
Just 50 miles north west of Hay
I said, ‘Hey lizard where’s your town,
You ain’t a local I’ll be boun’
He said, “I parachuted in
All beaten up and lookin thin.
“This man at Scone is awful strong,
From hurlin lizards all day long.
“He threw me last month off his place,
Almost as far as outer space”.
‘But lizard now you’re tough and sleek’.
“Still chewin tendons all last week”.
So now it’s one week past the day
When me and lizard met,
And so I look around about
To see if I could get
A better feel for where he was, and what he might do next.
I spied him
Sharpening up his teeth
On a grinding stone he found,
Cos in those Riverina plains
There ain’t no rocks around.
And so I say, “Hey Lizard Man
Just where might you be goin?’
“I’m travelling back to Scone”, he said.
“I’ll catch a passing truck
To teach that silly Superman that he can go and suck”.
‘So how you goin to fix him up?’
I asked my friend in awe.
He said, “I’ll grab his other foot
To even up the score.
“An he’ll be balanced up again
With Moon Boots on each leg.
His friends will call him bumble foot.
It’ll take him down a peg.
“I’ll walk around this lawn at will
I’ll do it day and night.
Then I’ll do it all again
An do it juts for spite.
“And that’ll make him super cross
And swear and carry on
But he won’t chuck no lizards roun
And me, I’ll get a gong”.
‘But lizard, they say you’re a thief
You stole that bastard’s sock,
‘But let me tell you quietly
That’s just a load of crock.
‘They found this sock behind a bush
All covered in his blood,
Which serves him right for ‘busin you
While chewin on your cud.
‘But you can stake a legal claim
For all the lizard class.
Ten billion lizards sueing him
Right off his tight-fist ass.
‘And I, my friend, will help you there
Cos I’m a man of trust.
For twenty-five percent of course.
But only if you must!’