“Quotes from Old Guv Wankers.”

1195426713277837437cartoon_balloon_steve_ka_03Les Hawes to Alex Riley
“Laddy! I am the the Government Printer – don’t you ever, ever. answer me back – do you understand?” “And I will be watching you very closely.”
Alex Riley (trembling) to Les Hawes
“Yes Sir, it will never happen again. I hope.”
Ron Evans to Jack Wells
“Jack it is better to arrive late – than not arrive at all.”
Nobby Clark to the Jobbing staff
“The next person who whistles that bloody “Joey’s Song”, I will personally sack.”
Edgar Andrews to Alex Riley
“Alex, MR HAWES IS THE GOVERNMENT PRINTER and he wants to see you now! Not bloody later”.
Fred Hardwicke to Ron Evans
“It’s my little job (foreign order) Ron. So, fuck off out of it!”
Ron Evans in reply to Fred Hardwicke.
“Oh! I’m very Sorry Fred.”
Ron Evans to Frank Harding
“Frank it is several minutes before knock off time. Mr James would NOT like to see you with your coat on way before the knock-off bell.”
Frank Harding back to Ron Evans
“But Mr Evans I have been wearing it all day as it is been so cold in here.”
Ron Evans to Alex Riley during overtime
“Alex, I do hope you haven’t been factory drinking tonight?”
Alex Riley back to Ron Evans
“No Sir, Mr Evans as you can see the beer bottle tops are all from interstate.”
Les Hawes to Alex Riley
“So I see that you have placed an order for two gallons of petrol. What, did you go to Victor Harbor?”
Alex Riley in reply to Les Hawes
“No Mr Hawes I had to return some cake trays to Balfours Bakery up in Rundle Street”.”
Les Hawes shouts back at Alex Riley
“You did what? You will get NO petrol from me!”
Fred Hardwicke to Peter Sheppard
“None of my staff will be setting up your daughter’s wedding invitation so fuck off and ask someone else!”

The Toff

“My Life as a 69 year old Tech Dinosaur”.

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My first mobile phone was an analog “brick” given to me as a “hand me down” as part of my job as a union organiser.
At the time, I thought about how I had managed to do my job quite successfully over the years without a mobile phone. 
Then my son Danny taught me how to use a laptop, with very little explanation I might add.
After some time I signed up with Twitter only because 140 characters for a tweet seemed achievable even for me. Nowadays, I don’t use Twitter.
Facebook was a disaster because my account was soon hacked and people were receiving all sorts of strange messages from me that made me sound like a raving loony pervert.
What annoyed me about Facebook was I was swamped with useless bits of information about people’s lives. I didn’t want to know if they had tomato sauce on their pie for lunch or whether they had  a decent bowel movement that morning. I no longer use Facebook.
“Truthfully though, I do find a mobile phone useful in emergency situations and texting people is practical because no-one seems to answer voice mail anymore”.

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Only God knows what it is like for some of my older friends.
If they have a query with a Government department they ring the relevant section and after waiting for an hour they are told by a voice it’s quicker to look it up on their home computer.
What bloody computer?
Most of my friends who are over 80 don’t have a computer.
It’s cruel you know to put that sort of pressure on older people who are just trying to stay alive.
No wonder there are so many scams committed against older people on the internet.
Luckily, I have an eight  year old grandson Seamus who is a kind boy and helps me out, whenever I need help.
derwombat

“The Long Weight”.

img_0101-111One of the Jokes played on unsuspecting first year apprentices was “The Long Weight”.
The lad would usually be sent first to the Machine Room where Brian Long or Reg Francis would sit him down in a chair , then continue on with their work.
After about 20 minutes he would then be sent to the Mailing Room where Bruce Brown or Bob Allen would repeat the process.
Then it would be on to the Bindery where Jack Taylor would sit them down for “The Long Weight”.
By now the apprentice would slowly start to realise that he had been “had”.
He would slink back to his work frame, hoping that the person who had sent him, did not notice how long a weight he had.
But they always did, and then would proceed to bollock the lad very loudly in front of a bunch of leering workmates!
There was one person who was stupid enough to have the highest number of “weights” and that was Ian Grunert (pictured above).
He went to eight different areas before he woke up to the joke.
But then he was a real Dickhead!
Warren

“America’s Famous Clown”.

A clown ran for public office – and no, that’s not the beginning of a joke.
On Sept. 15, 1864, America’s most famous circus clown, Dan Rice, accepted the Democratic nomination for the Pennsylvania State Senate.
And it was just his first foray into politics: Even while continuing his career as a clown, a state convention later considered him as a candidate for Congress, and, in 1867, he made a brief but legitimate run for president.
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Dan Rice
While the idea of a clown running for office sounds like a gimmick, in the 1860s it was taken seriously — because circus itself was taken seriously, as adult fare.
Long before it was relegated to children’s entertainment, early circus in this country combined what appealed to grown-up tastes: sex, violence, political commentary and, in a horse-based culture, top-notch horsemanship.
George Washington attended the first circus in 1793 in Philadelphia not for family-friendly amusement — a notion that didn’t emerge until the 1880s — but as a horseman keen to see animals and humans working together at a peak level.
Sex and violence enhanced the appeal. Like later burlesque comedians, talking clowns told dirty jokes in a titillating whirl of the scantily clad: Circus acrobats and riders showed more skin — or flesh-colored fabric that seemed to be skin — than could be seen anywhere else in public life.
Read on via The Civil War’s Most Famous Clown – NYTimes.com.

“The Adelaide to Brighton Joke.”

imagesThe Adelaide to Brighton train of a night was populated with some real Guv talent, like Jack Taylor, Lew Morrison, “Rags” Elsdon, Leigh McCormack, Ian Ingham, Mike Fuss, Barrie Basford and Parham.
It is rumoured that the Brighton passengers used to have a real fun time getting home.
When Parham started at the Guv in 1973, he lived in Mile End when it was a pretty rundown part of Adelaide.
He used to travel the short distance from the Mile End Wood platform into the city.

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Getting to work was easy, going home was much harder for the “Delmont Medallist”.
The problem occurred on the nights that he worked overtime.
After a strenuous day hiding from the Gazette Staff and Cyril “The Clown” Barson and bullshitting about how good Gough Whitlam was, he was properly knackered.
How could you get distracted from Adelaide to Mile End?
Easy if you are a pretentious Dickhead.
The Guv blokes on the train would engage him in conversation about Union issues.
Soon the sleepy Parham would have sailed on past Keswick, Forestville, Emerson, Edwardstown, Oaklands Park, Warradale and on to Hove.
He never went further than Hove.
In the dim lights of the Hove Station you could see him running over to the opposite platform to start the long journey back to Mile End.
It happened more than once!
Warren
 

“The Clown Motel”.

imageWhile Nevada’s Clown Motel may seem like the product of a horror writer’s fevered imagination with its army of glassy-eyed clown dolls and convenient proximity to a Wild West cemetery that holds the (possibly unquiet) remains of local miners, but the dusty little lodging is just a fan of merriment. They swear.
Catering to bikers, truckers, and other long haul travelers that find themselves off the beaten path, the Clown Motel is the final port of call before the yet another stretch of unbroken Nevada desert.
It must be this location’s oasis-like location that has kept the establishment in business for so long, as the ever-watchful eyes of the ubiquitous clown figurines seem to serve more as a warning than a draw.
From the moment travelers enter the adjoining offices they are greeted by a life-size clown figure sitting in a chair, cradling smaller figurines like familiars.
In fact the entire office is covered in shelves and bookcases full of clown dolls, statues, and accouterment of every stripe.
Stuffed animals, porcelain statues, wall hangings, and more make up the mirthful menagerie, staring down at guests from every angle.
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Leaving the office with key in hand, visitors might also notice an arch just feet away heralding the “Tonopah Cemetery.”
Just beyond the gate is a century-old miner’s graveyard made up of a gaggle of wood and stone markers. The very Platonic ideal of a haunted cemetery.
Remarkably, there do not seem to be many extant stories, horror or otherwise, surrounding the Clown Motel.
Its possible that this paucity of history is because it simply arose, fully-formed from the dark parts of the American subconscious, or it could also be because no one has made it out alive.
via Clown Motel | Atlas Obscura.