A Right Royal Monarchy

Dear Numnuts

The question of the day came from avid reader Jenny, who asks;

"Why do the monarchists think it is okay to modernize the laws of succession for the royal family. Yet when it comes to being a republic they say "if it isn't broken don't fix it" Laws of succession aren't broken, they are as old fashioned as the royal family. Why are we fixing them?"

So much anger!!! I didn't understand very much of that so I needed to break it down to basics and do research...

In light of the Queen's visit to Australia this week, the topic of The Royal Family has been suggested to me as a subject to be investigated. Brilliant, I thought! I dearly need to know more about these people, why they are who they are, and what that means to the average Australian in this day and age.

When I entered that question into the WikiQuickie web search engine, the response was

"So, You are asking why the Royal Family is a Freak Show?"

I wasn't really expecting that answer. When I typed "information about the Queen", I found lengthy entries relating to Freddie Mercury, his band, George Street in Kings Cross, and an address at 28 Breadsticks St, Porpoise Spit. Clearly there are sections of the internet world with their minds on other things regarding this subject. But this is not helping me! I need to get back to the basics. Why do we have a Royal Family?

Is it because we need more scandalous public figures to laugh at? No, seems to be no shortage of those...

Do we watch their exploits and the odd "Annus Horribillis", relieved that that isn't happening to us? Maybe

Are they needed to sell magazines? Yes, and no...there seems to be plenty of fodder out there for the tabloid publications but there is a need for their specific target market. Without the Royals and associated sideshows, many Probus Club members would have to go home from their meetings with a copy of Mother Trucker's Monthly, which will feature a story about someone's "Anus HillBillius" instead.

The most popular response seems to be this - we have a royal family because we are too apathetic to do anything about it. They are like that tree root that has grown up into the lawn, just there to be hit by the mower, but you can't be bothered digging it all up and re-turf the place again. And like a good Fig Tree, there are probably more indiscriminate roots in unexpected places once you start to dig around.

So the Queen and Prince Philly Cheese stay with us, visiting occasionally, seeing people in Hospitals, visiting Schools, and going for long slow walks through flower festivals. Really they are just like a couple of old pensioners who travel the country spending the kids inheritance, and drop in every so often to say "Hi".

Do they act as other pensioners in their '80's do? Make meatloaf out of dog food, (what's good for beast is good for Man, Auntie Mavis used to say), spend long hours on the throne (similar!), and be supported by the Government of the day with subsidized travel!!

 Surely it's not that simple!

These people are revered, chased around by lunatics with long lenses, and paparazzi...There had to be more to this..

Eventually I had to give in and ask my esteemed colleague, Frank No Pants - a Royal watcher from way back - to shed some light on a Dark Ages subject. 

Frank No Pants 

Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away from reality, lived a remarkably unremarkable Royal Family. Notable for their inbreeding, and their penchant for all things English including funny pompous hats, small ridiculous dogs that look like kit bags with teeth, and gin, this royal family was idolised by throngs of equally imbred subjects that enjoyed nothing better than a Public Holiday where they could eat cholesterol laden meals, prepared with love at the local chip shop, by a man, who looks like a woman, trying to look like a man, and failing in both departments. These dishes would be skillfully and traditionally prepared, ensuring that minimal cigarette ash fell into the newspaper as the lard soaked produce was lovingly packaged. 

Dressed in the ceremonial Union Jack print garments, they would hop the bus back from the High Street to their council flat where they would share the feast with like minded friends and family in front of the Television.

The more affluent would enjoy a weak pot of tea between them which tasted like cat urine, as only the most affluent could convince a cat to live there, let alone pee in a teapot shaped like Prince Charles's head

(Note - the Prince Charles Teapot, with the large ears that act as handles is favoured by the general royalist over the Prince Harry Novelty Teapot, which features a giant arse in which you insert the handle, and the tea pours out an unremarkable spout on the opposite side. This is reported to be a replica of the handle Prince Charles made and used at Timbertop, although Derrilyn Argeparcel from Anitques Roadshow disputes that stating "that the handle, like Prince Harry, does not resemble anything produced by Prince Charles...")

 

The British love their Royal Family, and just like the Americans they insist that it they love it, then the rest of the world must love it. The Queen needs her guard changed regularly, and this is done by a number of large men water buffalo lodge hats who don't smile. The theory is that like the Queen Mother, as she gets older and the Gin takes over, she will need a number of large of men to change other things regularly, and that's certainly nothing to smile about...

The Queen's husband is a prince, and her son is a prince, and her daughter is a princess. It seems that you have to distance yourself quite a bit from them before you can be a Lady.

Lords and ladies are together, Dukes and Duchesses are also together, and the occasional Duchess has a Footman...or someone who sucks on their toes. A Duchess is not necessarily Dutch, even though a few have reportedly been quite good authorities on dykes.

The Queen has subjects, all of whom live in the United Kingdom, even though there isn't a King. Protocol decrees it cannot be called a Queendom as this may give the wrong impression, and there is officially only room for one Queen. It seems this rule of names applies in certain circumstances elsewhere as well. For example, an Apple is from an Apple tree, a pear is from a pear tree, and a Earl is from a country......sorry my phone was ringing....Estate.

The Queen also speaks on behalf of her husband as he tends to upset everyone when he talks, and she also speaks on behalf of the subjects. This is necessary as most who live in council flats eating soggy chips can't be understood when they open their mouths and have a tendency to only say "Ee by goom..chooky chooky".

 And the Queen loves Horses.....that pretty much sums them up!

So there we have it, the Royal Family explained...

I know what you are about to say - What a lot of rubbish...

Pensioners haven't been feeding their Grandchildren meatloaf made out of Dog Food all these years! I don't wish to upset those on you that have grown up believing meatloaf was good unless being served as pre-match entertainment at a major sports event, but the truth is undeniable. Pensioners are in their prime when they have a wet runny nose, and are wearing a shiny coat.

Frank No Pants also tells me that as a consultant for the Clustrefuch Institute, he has seen a study that 8 out of 10 Geriatricians advised that Elderly pensioners would be eaten by their pet Guinea Pigs if they didn't feed this type of meatloaf to their grandchildren at least once a month. He noted that it took a while to find 8 doctors who would say that, but they got there eventually. 

I'm sure there was a question to be answered at some stage....Oh well

And so, I tell yer fer why

DB

The Working Class Man - whoa whoa whoo

Dear Numnuts,

Temptation is a double edged sword.

This profound statement came home to roost last week, like the proverbial over-sized turkey raised by chickens to think it was pigeon ("It's ok dear, you're just a bit different than the other pigeons, and that's why you are special to us....and your mother was a crack whore").
 

The whole identity confusion amongst farm birds is not uncommon as turkeys were often convinced that they were pigeons in order to reduce the stress of the upcoming Thanksgiving/Christmas period. Studies on the effectiveness of this approach were funded briefly at the Clustrefuche Institute for Non-Human Behavior, but was withdrawn when the administrators realized that the long term psychological impact on the turkeys could not be measured as none of the participants made it past the Thanksgiving/Christmas period. In order to retain their funding they continued their work on Parking inspectors.

But back to the tumultuous events of last week.

For the past few weeks I had found an increasing level of comfort in being unemployed, and the temptation was to continue in this state of limbo indefinitely. The continuing cycle of inactivity and procrastination was no longer a vicious circle, but more like one of the more memorable rides at Pissweak World. Certainly not at the level of the Captain Underpants' Escape Hatch, but definitely above Wheelie Bins of Fire Dodgem Derby.

The concerns I had about being a burden on society and non-contributor to the community had been tempered slightly after watching a local current affairs story about the neighboring suburb of Angler's Crutch.  Highlighted was the alarming figure of 65% unemployment amongst Males between the ages of 25 and 45. This was counter-balanced with the statistics showing that this same 65% were very satisfied with their daily lives and had lower levels of stress than the rest of the community. As a footnote to this, another study on health and dietary habits in Angler's Crutch said that 65% of males between the ages of 25 and 45 regularly have beer for breakfast.

So it was in this cloud of blissful ignorance that I ventured out to the local shopping center several evenings ago, armed with a very brief, yet oddly disturbing shopping list for my colleague Frank No Pants. He had asked me to get a large jar of Fish Oil capsules, a 48 pack of toilet paper, and the latest edition of Furry Feckers, a "Lifestyle" magazine. It is only now that I write this that I an realizing there was a reason he sent me.

With the items in hand, and a loaf of bread as an impulse buy, I proceeded to the checkout only to be told that I had no money in my spending's card account. This was the second most embarrassing thing to happen that night. The first was the price check announcement by the lovely "Emalli" which boomed across the whole store 'Price check for Furry Feckers monthly with bonus sealed section'.

The "no money" aspect of being unemployed suddenly made it a far less comfortable state of being, and strangely had slipped both of our minds. The reality was that we need to get back into the workforce......and fast. And the 'We' part of the statement alluded to another conversation that Frank No Pants and I had to have which can be summed up with his closing argument "but if I'm not here all day who's going to harvest my crops, feed my zoo creations, keep my gnomes busy and find all of those hidden objects and gather the clues to solve the mysterys..." and mine "Not working is the Third of the two options on offer...".

And there were jobs available, we had just chosen not to take them. Numerous excuses were always offered. Mine included "I don't have transport so I won't be able to get out of bed" and" I cannot operate heavy machinery this week because of the medication I intend buying in the park this evening". Frank had the less credible comments such as "Feck me, I'm not cleaning that up!" and "I don't wear beige on Fridays".

So, a call was made, and two positions were offered despite Frank's insistence that he would like to demonstrate at least 4 positions. We were to start at the local aged care facility as cleaners, a position we primarily secured by saying we were handymen....as in handy because we lived three doors down. I had no experience in this field, as being a management figure I was only responsible for creating mess and clutter, not cleaning it up.


Frank No Pants, on the other hand, claimed to have had extensive experience dealing with bodily fluids, soiled areas and door handles. I refused the temptation to ask more questions, although I believe it may have something to do with his education at a boarding school. I was in his hands (gloved), and we picked up our daily check lists and worked through the morning.

At the time of writing we were still employed in these positions and as each day progressed I believe I can proudly say I have learned some new skills. An avid reader had posed a question recently, asking how do you actually clean the iconic Australian Dunny, (or toilet for those of you overseas) and that was partly the reason for this blog entry.


 

"Dear DB, Now that you are officially (It's on Centrelink) unemployed, I reckon you might have a few spare moments to contemplate the bigger questions of life. It's a dilemma that's troubled me for some time, and I feel only you may have the answer. So, here's my question. How do you professionally clean a dunny? It's no longer that hole in the ground dinkum-dunny or that tin-can balanced precariously between two planks. No, it's a wizz-bang-flushable new thingy. Oh, and it's not to be confused with a bidet. Any suggestions? Zak."

And my response;

"Dear Zac, You nearly threw me with the bidet because I don't know what that it. Frank tells me it's a European Teeth brushing sink so I'm off with my toothbrush to try it out. This obviously needs more investigation...and may also be the subject of a childrens book. I'll get back to you during the week.. PS just tried the bidet....leaves a nutty taste in your mouth DB"

So with this information, and the fact that Frank No Pants was in charge of training me to clean the above mentioned Dunny, I will document the standard operating procedure that I have to follow, as written below; 

Water Closet Cleaning and Sanitizing

Author - Frank No Pants 2011

Assemble the equipment required

• Mop
• Bucket
• Scrubbing brush (referred to as a scrubber)
• Long straws
• Plastic water bottle
• Hospital Grade disinfectant
• Bubble Bath
• Toilet Closed for cleaning signage (see below)



Toilet closed for cleaning

• Personal Protective Equipment (PPE)
 

Safety First

• Once all equipment is assembled, apporoach the toilet area with caution. Remember, no innapropriate behaviour in a strangers toilet area.

• Check for spiders

• Before beginning the cleaning process, fill the water bottle with a sample of the water in the toilet bowl. This is to be tightly sealed and placed in the Supervisors mini fridge with the other water bottles for quality testing.

• Add an unmeasured amount of the hospital grade disinfectant to the toilet bowl. To check the correct amount has been added, take a long straw and sip a small amount out of the bowl. If you feel a shortness of breath and cough twice, the quantity is correct.

• Using the mop, agitate the water in the bowl until the entire toilet has been rinsed. Mop the surrounding area because someone had just been in and splashed water all over the floor. This mop and bucket should be retained to mop the staff kitchenette.

• Scrub the seat of the toilet with the scrubber. Once finished present an offering to the patron saint of public toilets, George Michaels, by going outside the toilet block and chanting "I've made that Scrubber on the Toilet Seat my bitch"

• Finally pour a generous amount of bubble bath into the top of the water cistern. This helps with the sanitizing of the toilet and makes the user feel better about what they have just had to deposit

• Repeat this process for each toilet

Frank assures me this is the latest approach to toilet hygiene and is an industry standard.

And so my friend, I think with this new skillset my future employment is secure. In fact, to make sure I'm going to make time to let the supervisor know that it's me, not Frank, that has been putting the water bottles in his fridge. I want the credit for doing such a consciencious job because I don't think anyone else is doing it.

Good help is hard to find, isn't it.

And so, I tell yer fer why

DB

Job Seeking 101

Dear Numnuts,

Life moves on...sometimes when you least expect that it is ready to move. When these things happen we react accordingly.

I recently had that "unexpected movement feeling", not the sort that you normally get after eating a dodgy kebab at 2.00am in the morning. It was the "didn't see that coming, so grab your chattels and get outta Dodge" type. This kind of situation can arise out of nowhere but in my case it was a combination of timing, the declining US dollar, and a certain individual with no pants.

The Probation Period scenario may have some people living like a goldfish in a blender waiting for the "on' button to be pressed, but not usually me. In fact I was only vaguely aware it existed.

The US dollar on the other hand was world news, even out where we were at Camp Spider Monkey (named not because there was a colony of Spider Monkeys living there, but because the Chef in Charge's head looked like a Spider Monkey...no matter which end of the Spider Monkey was facing you at the time). So, with the green-back worth just over two flat rocks and a stick there was a need to balance out the downturn in business by injecting more cash into the coffers. This, of course, comes from deciding to not pay wages by removing employees from the payroll.

The third component was a little more unusual, although for me not unexpected. My illustrious colleague, Frank No Pants, had decided that Camp Spider Monkey...with it's pristine location and serenity...would be the perfect location to start pagan worshiping rituals. For Frank No Pants that required the following ingredients;

• a large stainless steel bucket
• a listing of the sunset times
• a large slotted spoon
• a goat
• a short white apron
• two rolls of duct tape
• a hamster

Prior to organizing the last item I thought it was mostly harmless as he had always wanted to join a Masonic lodge. But the inclusion of the Hamster, which he immediately named Amy Winehouse (even though it was male) made me confront him for an explanation. His initial response was that he lived in a free and democratic society, and even though he had only ever written 'shite' on the ballot paper this still entitled him to a voters freedoms, and that he shouldn't be discriminated against on religious or sexual preference grounds. When I asked what sexual had to do with any of this he quickly tried to change the subject ("look .. there's a naked backpacker behind you") and piss bolted through the camp, clutching the bucket which contained the spoon, the duct tape, and Amy Winehouse. As he was my responsibility, being manager of Guest Activities - Other, I had to chase him.

We may not have attracted as much attention if he hadn't been screaming "Whoop Whoop Camel-toe" as he ran straight through the Over 35's Come As You Are Yoga session...twice. Finally I caught him in the sand dunes with a diving spear tackle, and with the on-looking crowd looking both disgusted and intrigued, I restrained him in what would be referred to in wrestling terms as "the Referee's Position".

 As unfair as it seems now that it has all been explained, the combination of that position, the sand dunes, and that he wasn't called Frank No Pants for nothing, may have been the deciding factor in the management's decision to terminate my contract within the Probationary period with the explanation that we were "not the right fit" for this resort. And Frank No Pants, smirking and giggling as he asked the GM if he would try him in another position to see if that fit better, didn't help.

So, several months older and hopefully better for the experience, it was time to move on and see what else was going on in the world. The best way to do this was to move back to the familiar surrounds of Porpoise Spit where Frank No Pants has a friend who apparently requires someone to house sit. I am thinking this is not true as the occupants of the house are known to me, and under no circumstances would they approve of Frank being inside their house in a time of desperation, let alone while they are on a 4 week cruise to Fiji. Also we would have been left a key to get into the house, not a garden spade which apparently "had been specifically designed for opening the kitchen window". Well, there is some food and a plentiful supply of alcohol in the fridge of the next door neighbour...again I need to question that at some stage.

Unlike Frank No Pants, it has been a very long time since I have referred to myself as Unemployed. This is unfamiliar territory to me so I have had to make some enquiries to how the hell this works. As with most activities requiring research, I enlisted Frank No Pants to investigate this

Being unemployed presents many challenges to most people, but to the experienced campaigner such as myself it is a process that needs to be followed. It is not so much how am I going to get another job, rather it is opportunity to explore how many people you can draw into the experience of not being successful at getting any sort of job. The initial response from well meaning friends and family is to suggest approaching local businesses, look at training opportunities for re-skilling and updating your resume. What I suggest is to start with a visit to Centerlink and see if you can frustrate the clerk to the point of needing a ten minute smoke break despite the fact that they don't smoke. 

Start by filling out only half of the first page of the enrolment form, and when they enquire why you had stopped advise them that you had forgotten that you were illiterate, so you had to stop. They cannot discriminate against illiterate people so they will have to fill the rest of the form in for you. Preparation is the key, the next two pages need to have had the juices of the # 33 combination seafood noodle with extra fish paste leaked all over them...4 days before. Be sure not to remove any chunky pieces as that adds to the artistic finish. Once the Clerk has gagged his way through filling those pages out he comes to the final page, which you have taken the time to cover every sentence with correction tape because you heard that the last page might need to left blank. He has now spent a great deal of time filling out the manual form you have bought in, and is so frustrated that he starts filling out another form despite deep down in his subconscious knowing that it should all be done online. Then, in a display of incredible efficiency, you application process has suddenly been finished and you are instructed to go to the nearest employment agency...and any further questions can be answered online THERE IS NO NEED TO COME BACK INTO THIS BUILDING!! subtle notes on you file will state that payments should proceed without question because it is a small price to pay to avoid having to deal with this client.

The next stop is one of the many Government accredited Employment Agencies. The link between the politicians (Government) and the Unemployed is defined by their common interest in lying. One does it most of the day on the couch, the other most of the day in Parliament. My personal favorite is Mission Employment, and the way to introduce yourself to them is to walk into the offices and ask in a very loud voice "Is this Missionary Employment?" Again, an unfortunate, and definitely not-paid-enough-to-deal-with-your-crap clerk will politely ask if she can help you with a "welcome to Mission Employment". Follow this up again in the loud voice with "Do you have any positions?" By now everyone in the building has your full and undivided attention. The very helpful and slightly naive clerk (they always send then to greet the 'special' customers) may then follow up with something like "yes, would you like to see some?". Finish the session off in full Monty Python mode with (loudly) "yes please, can we start with the Missionary Positions....."

Quickly pretend to answer your mobile phone (set on vibrate....doesn't everyone keep theirs on vibrate in their front pocket?) and say "Coming Dear.." and leave the building before a security person is summoned...

At this point I have decided to stop following the rest of Frank's advice while there are still some employment agencies that I am able to enter. Unfortunately this comes after taking some advice off him on how to get a job online.

 He put me onto a local "Job specialist" forum as he called it and they were known for their openings, where enquiries led me to talk to a lovely Filipino lady (with a strangely deep voice) named Maxi. Very plush reception area, and when I said I was looking for a job she told me they start at Fifty Dollars. I said that was ridiculous, and that I've never had to pay for a job before to which she replied "I highly doubt that, sugar, just by looking at you..." It was around about this time I realized that I may not be in a employment agency, although it made sense being located in an industrial area. I left, without a job and also somewhere to work. In case I misjudged the situation, their website is www.bigboysdocry.edu.au .

Once again I hope my experiences are in some way helpful in your endeavors to get a job, or gainful employment.

And so it is, and I tell you fer why.

DB

To Sue with love – Legal Fleagles

Dear Numnuts,

Let me just say straight up that I know nothing about Lawyers or the legal system, which means the following blog is about educating both of us. I apologize if any of the information is not accurate or up to date, but I have researched the topic the best way I can with my usual sources. For further information on why I would attempt this, best you read my introductory article from a few weeks ago.

It seems that we all need legal representation at some stage, and are constantly reminded of this. But what sort of lawyer do you need? Do you really need one, or like exploratory bowel surgery, can you just do it yourself? Do solicitors spend their time soliciting, and does that mean they are similar to prostitutes? They must be covered by the same employment award as the pay rates are similar. Do Barristers hang out in bars, or on stairs? Does a Queens council represent anyone, or just Drag Artists? How many of them are named Sue and can sing a Johnny Cash song?

I have a contact called Demented Kitty who will probably provide full and comprehensive answers to the questions posed, but until then we refer back to our source, Frank No Pants. He was very eager to help out, and although he spoke very quickly (mumbling something about trying something on for size) I was able to learn the following;

Legal representatives are a part of everyday life in the modern age. You are told to “get a lawyer”, “talk to my lawyer”, and “you’ll hear from my lawyer”. Therefore it can be concluded that Lawyers are like Arses – everyone has one and tends to talk through them when they want to sound important. To understand the role of today’s modern Lawyer you need to watch a lot of TV. Therefore all legal representatives are intelligent, attractive, well spoken Sociopaths who work 25 hours a day, have dysfunctional families who they regularly have to represent, and wear nice shoes.

Legal representatives work for large and small companies, and sometimes open their own businesses called Practices. With lots of time spent practicing, they will eventually have a Firm, and the more associates that help them will eventually give them a Large Firm with a massive name and a large pleasure boat (although they still have small feet). A lot of them wear suits, file suits, and all talk about a girl they once knew called Sue.

So now we have some idea what lawyer are, and feel a lot more comfortable talking about them. But do we have enough of them? If we all need one, do we have to make sure we have one close at all times? More research was needed into how many Lawyers there are, and what were the government doing about controlling their numbers. Do we need to bring more in to the country?

Under the FOI act, and via Wikileaks, Frank No Pants has provided me with details of a plan that was devised to ensure Lawyers did not go the way of the Cane Toads and Rabbits if they were selectively introduced into the natural habitat, and the effects of a population explosion.

The Clusterfuche Project

A social experiment was set up on a remote property in North Eastern Victoria to test how a large group of Lawyers in a controlled environment would affect the environment. This was set up under the cover story of shooting a documentary for SBS, but was actually a government contract to address the potential spread of introduced species. The Clusterfuche Project (as it was known) placed 200 Lawyers, Solicitors, Barristers, and Conveyance Specialists in a large climate controlled Perspex dome for 12 months and their interactions were observed.

Needless to say, the Boffins observing were forced to abandon the project after two months, as the subjects were yet to decide how they were going to survive, and had taken injunctions out against each other so that no further discussions could be held on the subject. Although all food and amenities were provided, the participants were deteriorating to the point that they were openly stating that they were learning a lot from reality TV, and that Justin Bieber was a musical genius.

In response, the Boffins decided to ask them to abandon the site. The lawyers dutifully refused as they believed they were contractually bound to see the project through to completion, or at least until the next season of Jersey Shore had been shown with Justin Bieber making a guest appearance. The Boffins then had no other option but to limit their primary coping instincts, and therefore degenerating their cerebral cortex, by cutting off the life support and driving them out.

This did not take long, but not before irreparable damage had been done to the participants, who all left singing “Good Ol’ Collingwood Forever”.

The only positive outcome from the failed project was a children’s book written by one of the Boffins early in the project called “Jack, Spot, and Sue the Vet”. Here is an excerpt.

See Jack Run

See Spot Run

Jack Sees Sue

Sue Sees Spot

Spot Bites Sue

Run Spot Run

Sue Gives Spot a Shot

Jack Sues Sue

And so on.

So, once again Frank No Pants has shone a dim light on a shadowy subject, and we are all the better for it. I will update this article with any corrections from Demented Kitty, if of course there is any need for corrections.

And so, I tell yer fer why

DB