Sir Plume (of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane), With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuff-box opened, then the case. Pope. The Rape of The Lock
Melbourne TWOP stringer Meccano flew into town today to be confronted with this worst at the fucking airport! If he hadn’t already deposited his fruit in the bins provided, he may have turned straight around. Again, banality, meets astounding. This is number nine in the fleet. I shudder to think what the plates of 1 through 8 say. Wasn’t “Assman” available? “Knobflogger”? “Beavrdammin”? “cntkini”? Not even “Locknload”? Meccano, what can I do but apologise that this dispiriting and depressing van was your first sight on arrival in Perth. I’m sure your journey past The Maracoonda, The Red Castle, the motel where that prozzie was murdered, and other one next door where the 13 yo girl also worked as a prostitute, as well as the Smiths’ Burswood bronze infection would have lifted your spirits after that inauspicious and frankly baffling start. I hope the taxi driver was inarticulate enough for you to not understand his enthusiastic description of a sculpture park to be built on Heirrison Island. No, I’ve said too much.