Today I went into Tamworth and got into a whip fight. These things happen in the bush and I guess you just do what you can at the time. What’s a whip fight? Well, a fist fight is a fight using fists and a knife fight is a fight using knives and a whip fight is…well you do the math. Imagine it like ye olde English duelling days, but without the 10 paces, pistols at dawn, “By jove I say” and poncy cravats. Whip fighting is a down the line no messing around argument settler if ever there was one. You put on a drizabone, pick up your stock whip, put your useless non-whipping hand in the pocket of your drizabone, tell your blue heeler called Bluey to ‘get in behind’ (if you have one and that’s what he’s called, and ideally you do and he is) and then you proceed to lash the guy standing in front of you about the head. It’s a fair and decisive way to solve those pesky disagreements in the pub such as deciding once and for all if Ford really is better than Holden but I think it has potential to go much further. In fact, I’m sure John Howard had something in the back of his mind when he made all the delegates of the APEC summit pose with Drizabone’s on – namely winning another term, setting up a whip fighting arena in parliament house, handing over the leadership and then enjoying retirement watching PM “Lightning wrist” Costello and Kevin “Super Crack” Rudd settle their disputes like real Aussie blokes.
No comments:
Post a Comment