Albo calledChris Bowen into his office one day and said, ‘Chris, I have a really greatidea — a vote winner’. We’ll take a trip outback and have a yarn with theyokels, they’ll love us.’
‘Good ideaAlbo, how shall we go about it?’ asked Chris.
‘Well,’ saidAlbo, ’We’ll get ourselves one of those Driz-a-Bone coats, some RM Williamsboots, a stick and an Akubra hat.
Oh, and a blueheeler. We’ll really look the part.
First we finda typical old country pub and show ’em we really enjoy the bush.’
‘Yeah,’ said Chris.
Days later,all kitted out, blue heeler on a leash, they set off from Canberra.
Eventuallythey found just the right place, a typical outback pub.
They walked inwith the dog and breasted the bar.
’G’day mate,’said Albo to the bartender, ‘two schooners of your best beer.’
‘Goodafternoon Albo,’ said the bartender, ‘two schooners of our best coming up.’
Albo and Bowen stood leaning on the bar drinking their beer and bullshitting, noddingnow and then to whoever came into the bar. The dog lay quietly at their feet.
All of asudden, the door from the adjacent bar opened and in came a grizzled oldstockman with a bloody big stockwhip on his shoulder.
He walked upto the cattle dog, lifted its tail with the whip handle and looked underneath,shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the other bar.
A few momentslater, there came another stockman with his whip. He also went to the dog andlifted its tail, looked underneath, scratched his head and went back to theother bar.
Over thecourse of the next hour or so four or five stockmen came in, lifted the dog’stail and went away looking puzzled.
Eventually,Albo and Bowen could stand it no longer and called the barman over.
‘Tell me,’said Bowen, ‘why did all those stockmen come in and look under the dog’s taillike that? Is it an old outback custom?’
‘Strewth no,’said the barman. ‘Someone told ’em there was a cattle dog in the bar with twoarseholes.’
