Heat’s on for essentials
It’s that wonderful time of the year in our Northern Paradise where certain jobs become essential services!
For instance the PM … no, no not that PM, someone so much more important to us, The Pool Man! Yes this wonderful necessary addition to life in the tropics.
This poor bloke who in all kinds of weather, all terrain, all parties, runs from your tyrannosaurus retriever, and then climbs into your back yard to retrieve decomposing cane toads, leaves, band aids from the bottom (not someone’s bottom, bottom of the pool!) and tests the water for everything from pee to Pimms! Worse still, if there’s been a kids party the night before, the poor pool man has to battle little floating submarines more toxic than Chernobyl.
That is of course if he can find the water in between dad’s old tyres, balloons, giant pink flamingoes and a host of other pool toys … few of which have much air in them after the kids party anyway. What a job! We salute you all, and yes you’re a lifesaver … now about adding ice cubes? Joking. Oh yes, and thanks for yelling out “pool man” before you come in, I hear a few adult water babies have been caught without nappies.
Then comes the parking inspectors, not exactly lifesaving like the pool man, but never the less an essential service … apparently.
But there they are doing the job in a full council designed hot outfit, wrapped up in an orange vest that does the same job as the lid of your Weber!
No wonder they may get cranky.
What about our poor coppers in this weather, yes they can wear shorts but have a look at the gear they have to carry!
Honestly they should have a backhoe behind each to carry that stuff! Torches, cameras, funny looking cuff links, bow and arrow, ladder, bath tub, fair dinkum they must lift weights for years to prepare for this.
Don’t fall in a pool that’s all I can say.
Not forgetting those who work in the roof cavities among the possum poo, nails through the joists, rats, snakes after the rats, snakes after the snakes which are after the rats, and conditions worse than a microwave, they truly must come out medium to well done!
Then we have the Mayor! OK, I’ve mentioned this before, its done no good, so I’ll try again, the mayoral robes.
These are obviously weapons of mayoral destruction.
Looking at the robes, more so the lining, they must have been supplied with compliments of a council truck and the Bruce Highway years back.
How someone thought it would be kind for a mayor in 37 degree heat and 150 per cent humidity to wear a neck to ankle bear skin is beyond me. But there it is, maybe there’s a 10,000 btu aircon hidden in the pockets. But we love it! And we wouldn’t live anywhere else, though soon as you know, we will be sharing it with the vaccinated southern hordes.
Turnstiles on every road leading into Queensland, P&O Cruises sneaking up the Burdekin River and Singapore Airs A380’s landing at the Giru international airport.
For the love of North Queensland, bring back the sarong! Though I doubt our coppers or the Mayor … never mind!
Happy days