Outrage Sunday 254 Northern Suburbs

That crown-fumbling Bento provides a timely update on a superb Bayswater bus stop, with bonus registered lawn. I prefer this verdant winter shot.IMG_9835
This is just enraging. More Bethany time for me. Subiaco, where Fire & Ice was. Hopefully they’ll give that awfully hip West Leederville place The Bun Also Surprises a run for its money. IMG_4258
Speaking of buns, Texas Reeks is doing it tough down in Crab Town. I think Last Quokka should write a song about it. Nothing worst about this mob, except perhaps the use of the word launcherino. I like Northern Suburbs. IMG_4251
Forget it: just get in your car and drive. See youse at The Cure tonight!IMG_4253

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7 Responses to Outrage Sunday 254 Northern Suburbs

  1. Hot Kreemy says:

    Me and my ROOMIE lived stumbling distance from ‘Fire and Ice’ for just over 2 years until recently, so we’d occasionally darken its doors. Most often when walking back home after having a skinful someplace else. “Drop in and have one more pint?”…. “Fucking yeeah.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LhWay0ZCFQ

    One night we lobbed in late and it seemed way more packed than normal. Much to our chagrin we immediately discovered we had gatecrashed a 21st that had booked out the joint. This came to light not coz all 60+ people in the pub were cherub-faced youngsters, and we figured something was up, but coz as soon as I parked my ass on one of the few remaining seats, beer in hand…. the music gets turned off and the FARKING SPEECHES got underway. Ya have to laugh.

    ** bloody hell, I haven’t even started my story yet – that was the BACKstory **

    One last bit: All the punters were Indians or Asians, to a man, and they were unusually placid and well behaved compared to the 21st parties of my white bread, middle class yoof. No one was drunk. In fact, no one appeared to be drinking at all apart from water.

    At the conclusion of the speeches, instead of turning the stereo back on, the owner grabbed the mic and gave all the guests a GOB FULL OF ABUSE for the poor bar takings. Crikey! I certainly wasn’t expecting that. You could tell he had been getting high on his own supply for God knows how many hours – he was well and truly drunk – and his little oratory went along the lines that he was running a business and he needed to put food on the table, and they were a bunch of tight-fisted wankers and this WASN’T how things were done in Australia when you use a man’s bar to hold a celebration. It was fucking gold! Could not believe my ears. I was waiting for someone to hurl abuse at him and tell him to shut his fucking pie hole [well maybe the more polite, Indian version of that], possibly even some low level argy bargy and microphone grabbing for his disgraceful outburst.

    But no one seemed to take offence. No one said anything to him, and there was no “rhubarb rhubarb”. Not sure if the party goers didn’t give a shiat, or if it didn’t quite register what he was implying…. the owner WAS slurring and rambling on a bit. Music eventually cranked back up, polite conversation over free glasses of tap water resumed, and it all ended happily. Erm. Except for the bar takings side of things.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. Russell Woolf's Lovechild says:

    I think Indians refer to it as a samosa hole.


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