Sunday, October 12, 2008

Australia - Part 2

A short night’s sleep (well 20 hours for Nigel but you get the picture) left them wide awake and raring to go and after a spot of brekkie (and some volleyball for Boris) they set off into the city for some touristy type nonsense. Sadly the fantastic weather of the day of their arrival had broken and it was, rather miserably, raining.

Boris had been inveigled upon to take them to a museum and despite living here for 8 years it turned out that his knowledge of his home town is a little lacking and he took them to the only museum he knew the totally rubbish (shurely post-modern? – ed) Museum of Sydney and they now know more than they ever felt they wanted to know about the first Governor’s mansion.

Boris’s abject failure in the museum stakes was duly punished and he was sent of to sail in the pouring rain whilst they walked the streets, in the same pouring rain, in search of the Museum of Australia and, crucially, a stuffed crocodile.

Eventually the drowned rats did so locate and the Museum has clearly been laid out with idiots like them in mind as it had a stuffed crocodile located just past the ticket booth. Sadly the poor beast is rather poorly lit.

Their need for taxidermed crocodilians duly sated another burning thirst had to be sated and one of the bars by the Opera House was lucky enough to get their custom.

A quick ferry trip back to Manly and Nigel and our subject popped into the wharf bar for a quick sharpener. A group of girls kept on looking their way before one of their number, sadly the least attractive one, wandered over and posed the puzzler, “what fucks like a tiger and winks” to our subject; when, after much agonising he replied, “I do not know” she just winked at him.

Clearly that was all too much for them so they shot off for another late afternoon nap.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Our hero is attracting the usual sort, it seems, and good luck to him of course.

We shall be checking him for tiger bites upon his return, as the timing of his late afternoon nap is curiously (not to mention suspiciously!) proximate to his being propositioned.