Best Australian Yarns

by Haynes, Jim

  DAVE: Geez, Dad, is it? The man on the wireless said it was preferential.

  DAD: Your mother and I raised an idiot! Of course you have to vote. You can vote down at the school.

  DAVE: But me and Mabel are in another electrate, Dad.

  DAD: You can still vote ’ere Dave—absentee.

  DAVE: Geez, I dunno if I got time for tea, Dad. I gotta go and vote down at the school!

  JH

  GRAND FINAL DAY

  Aussie yarns and humour contain a fair amount of racism and misogyny. I have avoided the racist yarns altogether, apart from a few mild migrant stereotypes, and I tried to avoid the more vulgar and crass misogynous ones, of which there are thousands. Hopefully, the few I have included here also have something to say about the nature of typical Aussie male attitudes and priorities. I hope readers will see that Aussie men, and their attitudes, are being made fun of in these yarns.

  It’s grand final day at the MCG.

  The biggest sporting event of the year, with the obvious exception of the Melbourne Cup, is about to start. The umpire is about to bounce the ball.

  Fred has been lucky enough to get a seat. He is excited and feeling pretty smug; seats are hard to get.

  Yet, there beside him is an empty seat. He keeps looking at it and waiting to see who is running late for the big game and will be sitting beside him.

  The hooter sounds twice, one minute to the bounce! There’s still no one sitting beside him.

  Fred looks across at the bloke one seat over. He looks a bit serious for Grand Final day, not as excited as the rest of the crowd.

  ‘Nervous about his team’s chances,’ thinks Fred.

  He smiles and the bloke smiles back weakly.

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ says Fred, making conversation. ‘The game is about to start and there’s a spare seat!’

  ‘Oh, I can explain that,’ says the bloke two seats away. ‘You see, that seat was for my wife. We bought two seats for the Grand Final at the start of the season but, sadly, she passed away.’

  ‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ says Fred, ‘so sorry to hear that, mate, but surely someone you know would have wanted the seat! How about your family members? All your friends? Even a neighbour?’

  ‘No,’ says the bloke sadly, ‘not one of ’em wanted to come. They’re all at the funeral.’

  JH

  EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING

  This one is even worse!

  A retired bloke and his wife, the Johnsons, are doing the ‘grey nomad’ thing, travelling around in a campervan towing a small runabout fishing boat.

  One day, while they are camping at a lovely isolated beach on the Western Australian coast, the wife takes a swim and goes missing while he’s out in the boat fishing.

  A distraught Mr Johnson searches and calls frantically and then drives to the nearest town and reports the tragedy to the local police sergeant in the little two-man police station.

  Grief stricken, he returns to the campervan and drinks himself silly for a few days and nights.

  One morning, a few days later, there’s a knock at the campervan door. There is the sergeant in uniform and a younger constable in scuba gear.

  The sergeant says, ‘Mr Johnson, we have some news for you.’

  ‘Oh,’ says the old bloke, ‘I guess it’s all bad.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ says the sergeant slowly, ‘unfortunately, some of it is really bad news, but some might be seen as good news, and maybe there will be some more good news.’

  ‘Well,’ says Mr Johnson stoically, ‘I guess you’d better give me the bad news first.’

  ‘I’m really sorry to inform you,’ says the sergeant formally, ‘that your wife is dead. The constable here found Mrs Johnson’s body a few hours ago. It was caught in a cleft in the reef not far offshore in about 12 metres of water.

  ‘We got a line around her and pulled her up to the surface. Of course there was nothing we could do, as she was quite dead.’

  Mr Johnson sits for quite a while with his head bowed and sobs quietly. Then he makes an effort, shakes himself and pulls himself together and asks, ‘You mentioned good news. What on earth could the good news be, Sergeant?’

  ‘Well,’ says the old copper slowly, ‘when we got your wife up, there were quite a few really good sized crayfish and some nice crabs attached to her, so we’ve brought you your share.’

  Then he goes to the police car and opens the boot, takes out a sugar bag and comes back and hands Mr Johnson the wet bag, which has a couple of nice crayfish and four or five crabs still alive inside.

  ‘Well, thanks for that,’ Johnson says, a little lost for words. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you. I haven’t eaten in days. They are real beauties, too.’

  ‘Well’, says the sergeant slowly, ‘there’s a bit more good news, if you’re interested.’

  ‘Really, what’s that?’ asks Mr Johnson, still holding the bag.

  ‘Well, if you’re up for a boat ride, me and the young constable here get off duty in a few hours and, if the sea’s calm enough, we thought we might shoot over there and pull her up again!’

  JH

  ARITHMETIC

  TRADITIONAL/JIM HAYNES

  Out on the side verandah, she tried to make her phone work,

  To get the neighbour’s son to come and do a bit of homework.

  He soon got the message, and quickly sent a text to her,

  Got on his bike quick as you like and soon was sitting next to her.

  He said, ‘Let’s do mathematics.’ He moved into position.

  He kissed her once, he kissed her twice and said, ‘Now, that’s addition.’

  She thought she’d take those kisses back and get into the action,

  She kissed him once, she kissed him twice and said, ‘Now that’s subtraction.’

  Then he kissed her and she kissed him, there was no hesitation,

  You could tell that they were getting close to multiplication.

  Then suddenly her dad arrived and made a quick decision.

  Said, ‘On your bike and take a hike!’ and taught them long division.

  ‘Hit the track and don’t come back!’ said Father with derision.

  Kicked the boy’s arse down the garden path and taught them long division.

  DESERT ISLAND 1

  One of those live sheep export boats sinks in the Indian Ocean and only one crew member, one sheep dog and one sheep, a ewe, survive. They are all washed up on a small atoll with grass and coconut trees and birds and lots of fish to help them stay alive.

  The bloke builds a hut and finds food easily and starts to think about the ewe in his lonelier moments. But every time he tries to get the ewe alone and grab her, the dog moves between them and snarls at him. This goes on for two years. The bloke is well fed and sheltered but he keeps trying to get to the ewe, and the dog never lets him.

  One day, a pleasure boat is wrecked outside the reef in a storm, a swanky yacht with an all-girl crew.

  There is just one survivor, a beautiful young woman who makes it onto the reef and collapses a few hundred metres from shore with the tide coming in fast.

  The bloke swims out through the huge surf and manages to bring her back to life. Then he carries her back to shore, almost drowning in the process. He warms her and feeds her and nurses her back to health, finding food and caring for her day and night until she is well again.

  When she has recovered enough to get up and walk about the island, she is so grateful she tells him,’ You saved my life and I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.’

  ‘Anything?’ he asks, surprised. ‘Anything at all?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, standing there in her torn shorts and bikini top, ‘anything at all!’

  ‘Gee, that’s great!’ says the bloke, ‘because there is one thing you could do for me.’

  ‘Gladly,’ says the beautiful young woman, ‘what is it?’

  “Well,’ says the bloke enthusiastically, ‘you could take that dog for a lo
ng walk to the other end of the island.’

  JH

  DESERT ISLAND 2

  A light spotter-plane flying around a desolate area of the Great Barrier Reef crashes into the sea and only one of the two customs officers on board survives.

  He swims to a small atoll with grass and coconut trees and birds and lots of fish to help him stay alive, builds a hut and, after six months, he realises he is presumed dead and there’s no chance of rescue.

  One day, a cruise ship passes outside the reef in the dark and a famous entertainer on board is accosted by an obsessed and drunken fan. In a mad bid to escape sexual assault, she jumps overboard and her cries go unheeded as the ship sails on. It is Kylie Minogue!

  When dawn breaks, she sees the island in the distance and swims towards it, yelling for help as her strength fails.

  The bloke on the island hears her faint cries. He swims out through the surf and finds her just afloat. He pulls her back to the island, almost drowning in the process, carries her back to shore, warms her and feeds her and nurses her back to health.

  Kylie recovers and is so grateful to him for saving her life that they form an immediate bond. They sit and talk and fall deeply in love.

  Theirs is a perfect existence, they have food, shelter, love and companionship, but one day Kylie finds him sitting on the rocks by the beach, sadly staring out to sea.

  She is worried and asks what is wrong.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing, really,’ he replies sadly, ‘my life is perfect here with you, except . . .’

  ‘What is it then?’ asks a concerned Kylie.

  ‘Well, I am an Aussie bloke, and there is one thing I really miss,’ he says despondently.

  ‘What is it that you need?’ asks Kylie. ‘I’ll do anything to make you happy.’

  ‘Well, there is one thing you could do, if you don’t mind,’ he says hesitantly.

  ‘Anything, just ask,’ says Kylie.

  ‘Well, could you dress up like a bloke for me? Put on my clothes and paint on a charcoal moustache?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Kylie, ‘whatever your desires are, darling, that’s okay with me. Don’t be ashamed or shy, just tell me what you want.’

  ‘Well, could you go into those trees and then wander out and pretend to be a mate of mine?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course, that’s easy,’ says Kylie.

  So, she does just that. Dressed as a bloke she walks into the trees and then strolls out and says, ‘G’day, mate. How are ya going?’

  The bloke walks to her briskly and says, ‘G’day, mate, I’m terrific . . . and guess who I’m rooting!’

  JH

  THE LIARS

  HENRY E. HORNE

  Ten boys sat in a ring and played at telling lies,

  An outback pastime, with a strayed young dog for prize.

  The parson they informed, who strolled to see their fun,

  The pup was for the cove who told the biggest one.

  The good old man looked upon that ring of boys and sighed.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear such a thing as this,’ he cried.

  ‘I never dared to tell a lie, nor ever knew,

  Such sinful sport, my lads, when I was young like you.’

  Ten faces fell, not from shame, but sheer defeat;

  Ten little liars dropped the game, for they were beat.

  Ten boys arose—a sullen band—quite broken up;

  And Jim, the judge, said, ‘Billy, hand the bloke the pup.’

  REAL AUSSIE

  CHARACTERS

  Whatever the group doing the yarn spinning, it’s funnier if you know the character involved, whether it’s a grumpy old uncle, or a nervous young nephew, or crazy old auntie, a legendary old character in your workplace or the office sad sack!

  The best yarns are those about great characters, people with strong or unusual elements to their nature—things that often lead them into conflict with more mainstream elements of society.

  This is my personal favourite of all the sections in this book, because all the characters in the yarns here are people for whom I have a great deal of affection or respect. This section is really made up of a collection of my personal heroes from our past.

  Some, like William Dawes, I consider to be true heroes, men of principle who stood up against the odds and conventions of the time and achieved great things in spite of being ahead of their time.

  Others are heroes of mine because of what they achieved, like Annette Kellerman, Hubert Wilkins, J.F. Archibald, Barney the Builder and Francis Greenway. Those last three, and many of the others in here, were all odd characters in some way with a Shakespearian character flaw or two that made them truly fascinating people.

  Some, like Sam Poo, John Knatchbull and Henry Despard did such stupid things that you would shake your head and wonder what on earth they were thinking when they did the things that make them so sadly memorable generations later.

  Some of these characters simply had personality to burn and achieved wonderful things—like Larry Foley, Billy Hughes and Smoky Dawson. Others were true eccentrics whose lives seem bizarre to us merely ‘normal’ people.

  Most Australians are fairly conventional in social attitude and find characters who live their lives to a totally different set of rules fascinating. We love reading yarns about unconventional people like Billy Blue, Quong Tart and Breaker Morant.

  When it comes to the true eccentrics, like Bea Miles, Arthur Stace and Percy Grainger, I think we find their lives so weird compared to ours that yarns about their odd lives are really interesting. We all have a certain affection, I think, for the truly eccentric people who brighten up, and help to shake up, the societies in which we live.

  All these characters are real and the yarns are all true. They all fascinate and amuse me and a few of them have inspired me. I wish I had met them all but I only ever met two of them.

  Smoky Dawson was one of them. He was a good mate and it was a pleasure and a privilege to know him.

  And, when I was a small boy, Bea Miles travelled on a tram with my mother and me and told Mum that I was a ‘lovely little boy with a bright future’. I remember seeing her on trams quite a few times with her sign around her neck that said she’d recite lines from Shakespeare for threepence and whole speeches for ninepence. Needless to say, she never paid her tram fare.

  WILLIAM DAWES

  The Man Who Wouldn’t Collect Heads

  Dawes Point, in Sydney Harbour, is named after a remarkable man.

  William Dawes was born in Portsmouth in 1762 and joined the Royal Marines at seventeen. He was wounded in the battle of Chesapeake Bay during the American War of Independence.

  Dawes was a self-taught astronomer and was recommended by the Astronomer Royal, Reverend Nevil Maskelyne to join the First Fleet. He helped navigate during the voyage and set up an observatory in a hut on what is now Dawes Point.

  The Aboriginal name for Dawes Point, Tullagalla, was at first changed to Point Maskelyne in honour of the Astronomer Royal. It was the site of the first guns mounted in Sydney, which were carried out on HMS Sirius, and was the site of the first observatory and the first cemetery.

  Dawes was the first European to explore the Blue Mountains and the first to make extensive written records of Aboriginal languages, and to realise that each tribe had a separate language.

  He was also the first European on record to defend Aboriginal rights. In December 1790, in retribution for the killing of his gamekeeper, Governor Arthur Phillip ordered several marines, including Dawes, to capture two Aborigines from the Bideegàl tribe and to sever the heads of ten males.

  The gamekeeper, McIntyre, had reputedly killed and mistreated some Aborigines. Dawes refused to participate in the retaliation and was arrested for disobeying the order.

  Phillip then changed the order to the ‘capture of six men, to be shot if they could not be captured’. After talking with the Reverend Richard Johnson, Dawes took part in the expedition, which failed to find any Aborigines.

  Daw
es subsequently declared to Phillip that he regretted taking part and would never ‘collect heads’ for anyone. He refused to make the apology demanded by Phillip and was not granted leave to remain as a settler in New South Wales.

  He was given no land and was sent back to England in December 1791. Dawes applied for positions in the colony of New South Wales several times, but was never allowed to come back. He went to Africa and was three times governor of the colony of Sierra Leone where he became involved in the campaign to abolish slavery.

  He later moved to Antigua, undertook unpaid work for the Church Missionary Society and established schools for the children of slaves. He died there in 1836.

  JH

  FRANCIS GREENWAY

  The Arrogant Convict

  Francis Greenway was born near Bristol in 1777 into a family of masons, architects and builders. He was 1.6 metres tall, broad, with hazel eyes, auburn hair and a ruddy complexion. He oozed self-confidence, was artistic, temperamental and quick to take offence and to anger. He seems to have been the epitome of a bloke with ‘small man syndrome’.

  Greenway became an architect ‘of some eminence’ in Bristol and nearby Bath. His only remaining building in the United Kingdom is the magnificent Clifton Club. He also designed Christ Church, Downend.

  In 1809, Greenway and his brothers became bankrupt over a failed housing development and, in 1812, he pleaded guilty ‘under the advice of his friends’, to forging a document—it seems to have been a document of agreement forged in order to protect his character in the bankruptcy case.

  He was sentenced to death; this sentence was later commuted to fourteen years’ transportation; and he spent time in the hulks awaiting transportation.

  Greenway had been friendly with Admiral Arthur Phillip who was living in retirement at Bath, and Phillip wrote a letter to Governor Macquarie recommending Greenway to him.