Last night I had a dream, When I got to Perth,
I had one hell of a rumble.
I had to beat the Bundy Bear first,
For claiming to be King of the bush.
For this fight, I’ve wrestled with platypus,
I’ve tussled with a dugong.
I can run through Tim Winton and not get wet.
When Boxing Kangaroo meets me,
He’ll pay his debt. Muhammad Ali.
I was sitting trolling through over 3000 photos trying to find my shot of the boxing kangaroo sign in Fremantle, when Shazza emailed me one. I had been trying to find the pic after the fake news stories that our brave lads and lasses had been asked to take down their giant version at the winter olympics. I haven’t put the kanga up before, because it was designed by a relative, and have been trying to avoid featuring said relative, despite his work covering most hard and soft surfaces in Perth and most of the packaging of liquor in the state. Fortunately the relative’s work is of a very high standard, but what about the boxing kangaroo, which I think he tossed off in 2 minutes while sitting on the bog? As a national symbol it’s certainly much better than our shitty national flag. The winter olympians should have gone with this version which includes the tinny of swan. (Which I think he designed too.) This pub is also a worst in several ways. I remember it being a craphole infested with sour faced skimpys and sourer faced blokes. Worst one. Then it was to be totally renovated. Worst two. Then kiddies got inside and burnt it. Worst three.