The Aussie bushman
Posted: Sun Feb 11, 2007 3:28 am
You know about the stereotype of the typical Aussie bushman? Wears an akubra on his head, has rippling muscles, shirt ripped to his belly, chest hair you could knit a blanket from, keep blue eyes, lantern jaw, deeply lined and suntanned face, a set of legs that would put an elephant to shame, an ass tighter in his brief black shorts than Pamela Anderson's bra and the gait of a boxer.
Well, one of these specimens of Australian manhood walked into the local outback pub, beyond the back o' Bourke, just after the black stump, took a look at the assembled patronage and disdaining what he saw, started roaring:
"Arr, yer a pack of mugs, pussies (American word inserted), wimps, could carry a bag of spuds up the mountain 5 inches, I can whip they lot of yez!!!"
The barman had see most sorts wander in or get dragged in and having seen his sort before (I did say it was a stereotype, there are lots of them here!) told him to "Shuddup and sit down ya mug and drink ya beer".
But, Aussies love their beer and this one more than most so he was roaring, carrying on and insulting the manhood and parentage of all the assembled patrons so the barman called him over and said to him,
"Listen here ya mug, I have three tasks for you to do to show how tough you really are. The first one is that yez hafta sink a jar of Irish Whisky and not moan a word as you do it and it has to be done in a single swallow!"
"The second task is that yez hafta go in that shack in the corner and pull the tooth of a cranky old bastard croc who has an ache the size of Mount Eliza"
"The third task is that yez hafta go upstairs into the boudouir and satisfy an old sheila who hasn't made love in 40 years"
Well, this tough bushy thought that the could handle the first task but the second and third were just too much. So he sat down, shut up and the barman bought him a cold one or two. None of that flamin warm Brissie stuff, the cold Melbourne brew for him!
Now you know that Aussie blokes need a beer or two in them to be brave? Apparently this was true. No sonner had he downed his second beer and he was up and roaring again.
The barman told him to shut up , get over to the bar and start the three tasks.
Everybody was watching, holding their collective breath as this fantastic specimen of manhood took the first sip of the Irish Whiskey, winked evilly around at the barman's daughter's cleavage in a "See you later" sort of way an sank the lot in one gulp. Boy was he tough. His eyes bulged, his cheeks turned red, steam was coming out of his ears but he uttered not a sound.
The barman wasn't impressed as he'd seen this before so he told him to get himself into the shack and fix the croc up.
The fellow walked into the shack and slammed the door so hard that three generations of goannas packed up and moved next door.
Dead silnece for a while.
Then the peace was broken by the most hideous bellowing that you had ever heard in your life. The walls were shaking hard enough to dislodge huge flakes of plaster, big enough to stun lizards walking past had they fallen off them. The growling, the screaming (and that was just the audience!!) was truly horrible nd the floor was shaking like a 1970's disco on a saturday night being hit by everyone's wooden platform shoes.
Three quarters of an hour went by and the door finally opened and the hero came out. He was bloody all over, every bit of clothing torn into scraps but he was on his feet and smiling grimly and he roared out,
"Right, where's the bloody sheila who wants her tooth ripped???"
As everyone knows, Beer makes Aussie males brave all right, and stupid to boot. Don't drink to be brave and then take on challenges you can't think through.
Well, one of these specimens of Australian manhood walked into the local outback pub, beyond the back o' Bourke, just after the black stump, took a look at the assembled patronage and disdaining what he saw, started roaring:
"Arr, yer a pack of mugs, pussies (American word inserted), wimps, could carry a bag of spuds up the mountain 5 inches, I can whip they lot of yez!!!"
The barman had see most sorts wander in or get dragged in and having seen his sort before (I did say it was a stereotype, there are lots of them here!) told him to "Shuddup and sit down ya mug and drink ya beer".
But, Aussies love their beer and this one more than most so he was roaring, carrying on and insulting the manhood and parentage of all the assembled patrons so the barman called him over and said to him,
"Listen here ya mug, I have three tasks for you to do to show how tough you really are. The first one is that yez hafta sink a jar of Irish Whisky and not moan a word as you do it and it has to be done in a single swallow!"
"The second task is that yez hafta go in that shack in the corner and pull the tooth of a cranky old bastard croc who has an ache the size of Mount Eliza"
"The third task is that yez hafta go upstairs into the boudouir and satisfy an old sheila who hasn't made love in 40 years"
Well, this tough bushy thought that the could handle the first task but the second and third were just too much. So he sat down, shut up and the barman bought him a cold one or two. None of that flamin warm Brissie stuff, the cold Melbourne brew for him!
Now you know that Aussie blokes need a beer or two in them to be brave? Apparently this was true. No sonner had he downed his second beer and he was up and roaring again.
The barman told him to shut up , get over to the bar and start the three tasks.
Everybody was watching, holding their collective breath as this fantastic specimen of manhood took the first sip of the Irish Whiskey, winked evilly around at the barman's daughter's cleavage in a "See you later" sort of way an sank the lot in one gulp. Boy was he tough. His eyes bulged, his cheeks turned red, steam was coming out of his ears but he uttered not a sound.
The barman wasn't impressed as he'd seen this before so he told him to get himself into the shack and fix the croc up.
The fellow walked into the shack and slammed the door so hard that three generations of goannas packed up and moved next door.
Dead silnece for a while.
Then the peace was broken by the most hideous bellowing that you had ever heard in your life. The walls were shaking hard enough to dislodge huge flakes of plaster, big enough to stun lizards walking past had they fallen off them. The growling, the screaming (and that was just the audience!!) was truly horrible nd the floor was shaking like a 1970's disco on a saturday night being hit by everyone's wooden platform shoes.
Three quarters of an hour went by and the door finally opened and the hero came out. He was bloody all over, every bit of clothing torn into scraps but he was on his feet and smiling grimly and he roared out,
"Right, where's the bloody sheila who wants her tooth ripped???"
As everyone knows, Beer makes Aussie males brave all right, and stupid to boot. Don't drink to be brave and then take on challenges you can't think through.
) as I sit here laughing my ass off. 
