Co­conut goes to see Limbo by ac­ci­dent

Port Douglas & Mossman Gazette - - LOOKING BACK - Co­conut Wire­less

CO­CONUT was wan­der­ing down near Dixie Park when he saw a strange tent, and think­ing there might be free food and drink inside he snuck in through a door at the back.

What hap­pened next you wouldn’t read about.

Not un­der­stand­ing where he was he took a seat and when the lights came up re­alised he was in the mid­dle of a crowd that was wait­ing for some­thing to be­gin.

Then from nowhere came sev­eral folk, whom he took to be va­grants or per­haps some kind of troubadours. They were play­ing strange mu­sic on a har­mon­ica and a tuba, of all things.

They an­nounced some­thing he didn’t catch and then, lo, out from the dark­ness came a pranc­ing tap dancer, grin­ning very white of teeth and dancing the heck out of ev­ery­thing.

Co­conut was very con­fused but too em­bar­rassed to sneak out, es­pe­cially when some lovely ladies ap­peared, pos­si­bly also street peo­ple with­out much cloth­ing to their name but very glam­ourous also, who ca­vorted on the lit­tle stage just bare inches away from Co­conut’s wide eyed gaze.

Th­ese peo­ple came and went time and again in a be­wil­der­ing ar­ray of dis­guises, and what it was all about Co­conut could not tell. But it in­volved swal­low­ing flames, jug­gling more hoops than is nor­mally safe, bal­anc­ing a pea­cock feather on the chin, and other crazi­ness in­volv­ing very strange skill sets, all most colour­ful and spec­tac­u­lar but im­pos­si­ble to di­vine as to mean­ing.

At one point a nice lady with multi-coloured hair was wres­tled into a strait­jacket by the oth­ers and even chained up, her protest­ing all the time.

And no one in Co­conut’s com­pany even got up to lift a fin­ger of help!

In fact they seemed to be en­joy­ing the whole thing!

Any­way this young lady wran­gled her way out of this un­nec­es­sary predica­ment most skil­fully, to Co­conut’s re­lief.

Then another ex­quis­ite young lady ran burn­ing brands along her limbs – this was when the strait­jacket would have been handy – and sev­eral times belched huge flames up­ward to the flammable-look­ing vel­vet canopy. Co­conut noted the near­est exit sign.

For good mea­sure they set a lad­der on fire, with some­one on it (why?), don’t they know about matches, and then they put them­selves atop th­ese tall, springy poles that bent as eas­ily as look­ing at them.

They were perched way up there, sproing­ing around (why??), with near fa­tal col­li­sions, and no one even try­ing to stop it – all Co­conut could see were the smil­ing, up­turned faces of the crowd lap­ping it up. The band kept play­ing like this was nor­mal!

Co­conut had not spot­ted one free fin­ger sand­wich let alone a free sin­gle malt and de­cided it was time to leave, mes­meris­ing though it was to watch th­ese strange peo­ple.

He crawled across the floor, dodg­ing a blonde jug­gling god­dess and the bass player and even­tu­ally found a gap in the cur­tains, and out into the dark­ness.

Phew! What a night!

Pic­ture: LUKAS TEASDALE

Limbo at the Spiegel­tent, Port Dou­glas

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