Thursday, September 25, 2008


Pas de deux.

The old shark tower.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the ghost who walks. These phantoms were quite often sensed, but rarely sighted.
Even when unseen, you knew they were there.......somewhere.
( YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. It’s from the days of political incorrectness )

It had been a quiet Saturday evening in and around Avalon. There was not a breath of wind from any direction and it seemed that no one from the crowds of people that had wandered from the local cinema had any interest in paying a visit to the infamous Avalon Beach sandhills. Fibbers, John, Bob and Pogo were all bored with the lack of pre midnight activity, when lights were noticed approaching the beach. The car came to a halt underneath the pine trees just south of the dressing sheds. Two people alighted, one male, the other female. They began frolicking on the beach directly in front of four of Australia’s finest, who were relaxing in front of their beloved surf club, imbibing, smoking, burping and flatulating. After several minutes canoodling, things started to become serious.
“He’s not is he?” asked Fibbers.
“Aw! I dunno,” replied his protégé Pogo.
“I reckon he is,” said John, rising to his feet.
“Go for it matey,” shouted loud mouthed Bob and got an immediate reaction from the startled lovebirds.
The two would be lovers evidently had no idea they were being observed by the Phantom Shadows. No, this was not a highly overrated pop group backing the even more highly overrated Cliff Richard, but a dedicated and highly disciplined team who unselfishly gave up many of their Saturday evenings to ensure public promiscuity among the local population was carried out in an acceptable manner. This was truly an essential public service as very few of the local girls came with signs that read, ‘This side up.’
Four pairs of cat like eyes watched as the couple headed off in a north westerly direction, edging ever so closer to the infamous Avalon sand hills. They vanished behind sandy mounds covered in Spinifex at the base of the dunes then appeared briefly from time to time ascending higher and higher.

Avalon sandhills.  Circa 1950's

The Phantoms took the well beaten short cut that began weaving its way upwards from the clubs northern wall and were strategically positioned when the two star crossed lovers arrived several minutes later.
Much to Pogo’s surprise, the couple settled down in a sandy clearing where only three weeks previous he was forced to cancel his first lesson at horizontal folk dancing. The reason for the cancellation was the sighting of phantom shadows flitting across moonlit clearings and causing the wispy grass to move and rustle.
Being the type of person who could adapt quickly to a situation, he decided to join these shadowy figures. Lying hidden in the Spinifex no more than several feet away from our couple, enabled the semi whispered sounds of sweet nothings that wafted through the air to be overheard by the Phantoms.

"Stop it Billy, no, no, no, stop it immediately I said,” were the words spoken as she was showing Bill how to unclip her bra at the back. " I said, no, I don’t want to really,” she said at precisely the exact moment she tore her slacks from her ankles. Shortly afterwards Fibbers was hit full in the face by a flying pair of delicate ladies briefs. He shoved them in his shirt pocket.
The folk dancing began. All the way through their conversation was kept to the bare minimum.
All she would say was, “Yes, Yes, YESSSS!!!!”
All he would say was, “ARRRGWGRRHH!!!!!!” Or something similar.
Ten to fifteen minutes later a loud cry went up from our stud, “Oh Yeah, Yeah, BLOODY HELL, OH YESSSSSSSS!!!!”
The Billy had boiled and blew its lid off.

The thought crossed Pogo’s mind, how come Shakespeare’s Romeo was never credited with uttering similar words whilst plugging Juliet instead of the traditional  ‘ Eyes look your last, arms take your last embrace and lips, oh you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss’………….I mean to say, really. What a load of complete and utter old rubbish………Get your hand off it Willy.
God only knows what it must have felt like after dressing, with sand still sticking to sweaty parts of ones anatomy. Our heroine evidently gave up on her knickers and commenced snuggling up to her exhausted Billy.
“You know what I’d really love right now hon?” he asked
“What’s that sweety?” she enquired
He answered, “A cigarette,”
“Oh me too,” she added.
“Fantastic,” cried Fibbers as he rose from the Spinifex, “Have one of mine”and produced a packet of Craven A cork tips that were kindly offered to the gob smacked folk dancers. Their faces became darker than the night that enveloped them and as the cigarette packet flew through the air in their general direction, the four Phantoms disappeared into the surrounding vegetation. 

The  next morning a pair of pink lace panties were seen flying from the top of the surf clubs old shark tower………..they were never claimed.

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