Ian In England

Ian In England

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method is “Australian Surfers”
(Good one Jon – now what is the theme really – what !! You mean you aren’t kidding? Bugger)

I am over in the UK at the moment and am phoning the poems in to the show.

No rest for the wicked eh?

[audio:JVG_Poem20090802.mp3]

Australian Surfers

Australian Surfers

Australians have a passion for their for beaches and oceans
In surfing they’re regarded a leader
To attempt to list all our champion surfers
Well, I’d run longer than ‘In the Gadda da vida’

There’s Midget and Nat, Wendy and Barton
Phyllis, Tommy and Wayne
Chelsea and Occy – Mitch, Mick and Mark
Pauline, Beau, Steph, Josh and Layne

One name unlikely to ever crack a mention
Though in his own tiny brain he was big
Surfing’s equivalent of ‘Eddie the Eagle’
The human anchor – the ‘Pig’

‘Pig’ Mills had no love of beaches or sun
Neither surfing nor the sea did he crave
He’d rather ‘be one’ with a family sized pizza
Than try to ‘be one’ with a wave

But his cousin Herman, a geek from Mont Albert
And as sharp as an elephant’s ring
Convinced the witless ‘Pig’ it was a fast track to sex
So they both kitted out with the ‘bling’

‘Pig’ decided to bleach his hair blonde
To divert the gaze from his dimples
He used nearly four litres of Herman’s Peroxide
Left over from zapping his pimples

When he woke the next morning his hair was like straw
Sort of curly and brittle to touch
It looked, so it’s said, like ‘Brute’ Bernard’s armpit
Crossed with Madonna’s crutch

‘Pig’s’ love of comfort saw him chose purple Ugg Boots
With animal prints on the soles
Polka dot board shorts pulled up to his nipples
So the sand couldn’t lodge in his rolls

Herman however opted for thongs
Not just the ones on his toe
No shorts, instead a ‘Banana Hammock’
Don’t ask – you don’t want to know

The piece de resistance – a lime green ‘Sandman’
A vibrating water bed in the back
Two surfboards they had no intention of using
So they bolted them on to the rack

Herman assured ‘Pig’ the van was a magnet
For those he scornfully termed ‘Surfette Pogs’
But the only females to set foot in that wagon
Were a pair of Police sniffer dogs

The boys spent all weekend in the Woolamai carpark
Pretending to check out the breaks
They had all the gear – matching fluro pink singlets
Everyone twigged them as fakes

They’d wax their boards from sunrise to sunset
For the many with doubts this was proof
The wax they used was for polishing floors
And their boards were still screwed to the roof

The locals resented any intruders
They didn’t like kooks on their turf
Perverts and hodads choking their carpark
So they demanded they prove they could surf

Herman’s hammock flagged as limp as a windsock
As he was marched to the shore and forced in
‘Pig’s’ board was launched still attached to the car rack
Fortuitous – since it didn’t have a fin

Herman barely made it out to the breakers
And was dumped, head first, on a bank
When he came too he found his ‘Sandman’ grafittied
With ‘Waxboy’ ‘Land Shark’ and ‘Skank’

‘Pig’ just sat there like a comatose walrus
And silently drifted away
Spent all night on his board, pulled by the currents
Till he washed up beyond Venus Bay

Herman recovered, ego unscathed
His hammock still cradles his gem
He became a ‘Young Liberal’ – a natural progression
Even touted as a future PM

‘Pig’s’ ego survived but his nerves took a pounding
Became phobic of water – don’t laugh
He needed a valium before feeding his goldfish
A zanax before taking a bath

He became as reclusive as his hero, Brian Wilson
In surf terms they share the same cred
Why bother trying to hang five on a board
When you can hang all ten in your bed

Rumours abound, he’s attempting a comeback
That he’s finally returned to the sea
Reports, unconfirmed – he’s been surfing the channel
Yeah – the channels on his TV

© Copyright 2009 Ian Bland

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