Friday, August 3, 2007

A 'Strine' Story for Beddy-Byes

The weather has finally cleared and I can see how incredibly blue and clear the water of the Indian Ocean is here. Today we took a boat out to Rottnest Island off the coast of Perth, and rode bikes around the island. It was covered in seclued white sand beaches with azure water, which were completely empty because it's winter and the water is too cold to swim in (too bad!). The island used to be called 'rat nest' island because it is covered in quokas, small kangaroo-like creatures that look like a mix between a kangaroo and a rat. Many pictures are to come when I upload my pics when I'm back in India on Monday.

In the meantime, tonight at dinner, with the help of the Hanslips and their relatives, I've composed a little story in Australian-ese or 'Strine' for you'se all to enjoy.

A 'Strine' Story For Beddy-Byes

One day, a bloke and a sheila were sinking a few tinnies and eating chucky duck beyond the black stump, way out woop woop. They jumped in their bus and hooned around doing bog laps, chucking burnouts, and doing 360's down the road.

The bloke, Dazza, chunda'd and the sheila, Shazza, spat the dummy. "Struth, Dazza, you've chuck'd up on ya best budgy smuggla's!" she exlaimed.

Dazza let it go through to the keeper and pointing, yelled, "Crikey! Take a ganda at that, Shazza! There's a skippy that carked it on the verge. We'd better be careful or we'll prang the bus!"

"Are you taking the mickey outta me?" Shaz asked. So Dazza did a u-ey so that Shazza could take a squiz.

"Ah, that pongs!" Shazza exclaimed, "The garbos should come and take it to the tip!"

"Bloody oath, they should," replied Dazza. "It's nearly time for a smoko. Let's find somewhere to have a cuppa and a lamington."

"Too right, mate. That's a bonza idea. I need to go to the dunny anyway."

"Yeh, and crikey, I need to point percy at the porcelaine to shake hands with the unemployed," he said as he let fluffy off the chain.


When they got to the roadhouse, Dazza said to the bloke behind the counter, "How've ya been, ya poor bastard?"

"I've been flat out like a lizard drinking for the last fortnight," replied the bloke sullenly.

"I've been flat chat too," commiserated Dazza, "Don't know my elbow from my arsehole."

Shazza looked up and saw a ute and a bloke chucking a brown eye out the window. "I bet he's been on the turps and he's legless," Shazza said. "Better watch out 'cuz the fuzz might get'im and he'll end up in the clink."

Dazza took a squiz at the sheila with the big knockers and a pensioner perm who was gas bagging to a bloke and said, "Hey, I know that sheila. She bangs like a dunny door in a gale, and she sure can pash!"

Shazza chucked a wobbly and said, "Bugga off, you're a dag! Are you giving me a bum steer? You'se blokes are one snag short of a barby!"

"Fair crack of the whip- we're not that bad, we blokes!" Dazza replied, rubbing his chrome dome.

Playing it with a straight bat, Shazza said, "Let's make tracks. We've gotta make it home in time for the session."

"Too right, mate" Dazza agreed, "but don't get a skin full, or we'll be driving the porcelain bus home."

And with that the bunch of galahs rattled their dags and drove off into the sunset.


See you'se later!

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