In the days when Hansard debates were set in hot metal, the Intertype Operator reigned supreme in arrogance and ability.
They spewed out galley after galley of hot metal type detailing the nonsensical ravings of those who occupied the “castle” on North Terrace.
One of the best was Sleepy. “Mister Sleeps” was a great Intertype Operator, clean, accurate and always willing to take on the difficult stuff!
Along with his lookalike cobber and drinking partner “Grunny” they were a formidable team.
In Parliament at that time there was Robin, an astute politician and semi-naked runner.
We all knew he took hinself very seriously indeed!
But, back to Sleepy at the Guv, on every galley of type we set we would put a Signature line at the top of the galley.
It identified who had set the type matter on the galley, most of us used boring headers like RP.
But not Mister Sleeps his was a simple row of zzzzzzzzzzzzzz’s.
Now when the galley proofs went to the Reader these lines were struck out, but not one night!
Right slap bang in the middle of Robin the Half Naked Runner’s Speech appeared the offending zzzzzzzzs.
What did the very serious Robin think, “Oh, Just an innocent little mistake by one of those hard working, fatigued Old Guv chaps.”
Not on your bloody life, he saw it as a full bore frontal attack on his prowess as a speaker of note in Her Majesty’s Parliament!
“I don’t put people to sleep”, he roared.
His angry and furious reaction in demanding that the poor bastard’s head who had perpetrated such an outrage be impaled on a stick and hung on the gates of Government House said a lot about how dear Robin saw himself!
He definitely wasn’t one of us.
Needless to say an attack on one Intertype Operator becomes an attack on all and they met the Inquisitors in stony silence!
No horrible politician would get hold of a Brother’s head!
Afterwards, we all went back to using two letter bland signature lines.
Or Perhaps Not! Game Over!
Alternative Title: I never ever Swore in front of my wife.
One day at Netley, Mr. Wayne ******* Brown decided that he had gutful of working at The Guv and decided to do something about it.
So he made up some ******* excuse about a ******* doctor’s appointment and went for an interview for a ******** job at another ******* print shop.
As the interview progressed, Mr. Hyde (sorry, Wayne) slowly began to realise that this ******* boss expected him to run the whole ******* shebang. Not just be a ******* Binder.
**** Off! said Browny. “I make the same ******* money at The Guv, just by being a ******* guillotine operator and telling everyone to get ****** all ******* day!
And with that Wayne scurried back to The Guv and never left Netley until his ******* Retirement!
Only then did he stop Swearing.
Remember Eric (The Crayfish) Miles? Several years back, Eric, was seen hanging around the Waymouth Street Bus Station.
He was desperately hoping to pick up some casual Bus Driving jobs.
He had fallen on hard times. He had lost a number of good bus driving jobs simply because of his obsession for 1970s CB Radio.
It was redundant, but The Cray (“a tall spindly man who was all arms and legs with a head full of shit”) still clung onto this ancient language of truck and long haul bus drivers.
No-one knew exactly what Eric meant when he spoke. To them a “Hotplate” was something normal people cooked Snags on. But to the CB people it was a highway truck weigh station.
Calling our cops “Smokey Bears” who lived in the USA meant nothing to Aussies who were used to calling our noble officers “pigs.”
So sadly, Eric was out of work and then the big break came.
Eric Miles was approached by The German Peoples Car Company (VeeDub) to promote a submarine version of their car.
Oh! Yes! The contract banned him from ever using CB language again.
The car was named appropriately The VeeSub (see picture).
It’s a Crayfish powered mini submarine that will dramatically reduce the cost of the underwater trip from Adelaide to Port Lincoln.
Well done Eric!
Pictured above is a Collage of Pictures of the Old Guv and its People which I did back some years ago.
Sadly, a number of them are no longer with us in person but are certainly locked away in our Memories.
Regards, Rod Parham.
Colin came from Griffin Press with an awesome reputation as a fisherman, bullshit artist and red headed “boofhead”.
Basically a good bloke and some may say a six pack short of a slab he quickly picked up the nickname of “boof” and it stuck!
So, it was little wonder that he would be conned by the likes of Freebairn and Pietsch, the masters of mayhem and parasites of Netley who regularly fed off the good nature of decent folk.
Boof got in a shipment of Milk Bottle lollies for his little “comp room deli” which thanks to another red headed individual never turned a profit.
The two con artists said they could fill their mouths with milk bottles and eat them in a flash.
Colin fell for it and said that if they could fit six sweets in their mouths he would let them chew free of charge.
Both pranksters immediately filled their gobs with a dozen milk bottles each and chewed away with ease.
Colin then set a target of twenty of the sickly sweets in their gob which they met in a breeze.
And so it went on through the day.
Well, a box of Milk bottles disappeared in no time before Boof’s very eyes and so a poor little Rawlings child never ate that night!
SHAME on THEM SCALLIWAGS!