I bumped into
my very old mate Johhny in India of all places. It is a very small world that we
live in. Johnny is Tasmanian and he is also a redhead. This is a double curse
in any one's book. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with Tasmania, it is
an island state of Australia. If you are English think Welsh . If you are
American think Canadian. If you are Canadian think American.
Tasmanians are
the brunt of many Australian jokes. It is a small and rural state that by
comparison with other Australian states is cold and miserable. Tasmanians are a
very simple people. There is often speculation that Tasmanians inbreed. Here is
a Tasmanian joke. It is a letter from a Tasmanian mother to her Tasmanian son:
Dear Son,
I'm writing
this letter slow because I know you can't read fast. We don't live where we did
when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen
within 20kms from your home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the
address because the last Tasmanian family that lived here took the house
numbers when they moved so that they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place
is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I'm not sure it works so well
though: last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven't seen them
since. The weather isn't bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time
for three days and the second time for four days.
About that
coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it would be too heavy
to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the
pockets. John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried
because it took him two hours to get me and your father out. Your sister had a
baby this morning; but I haven't found out what it is yet so I don't know if
your an aunt or an uncle. The baby looks just like your brother...Uncle Ted
fell in a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out but he fought
them off playfully and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for three
days. Three of your friends went off a bridge in a ute. Ralph was driving. He
rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in the
back. They drowned because they couldn't get the tailgate down. There isn't
much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened. Love, Mum
P.S. I was
going to send you some money but I had already sealed the envelope.
I have known
Johhny for a long time – for more than twenty five years in fact. As well as
the bane of being Tasmanian Johhny is also a redhead. I have repeated this fact
for emphases. Johnny is a ginger nut. He is a bluey. He is a Ranga. He has been
the subject of taunts and jokes all of his life.
Many redheads
are.
Johhny has
been living in Asia for a long time. He has done stints in Manila and Hong Kong
and Bangkok and like me he now lives in Singapore. It was bizarre to bump into
him in India. I haven't seen him in Singapore for ages. Neither of us knew that
each other was here. India is a country with a population of more than one
billion people so the statistical likelihood of us running into each other is
extraordinary.
Like many
redheads Johhny is freckled. We all know that freckles are skin blemishes. They
are clusters of concentrated melanin on the skin. Freckles are also known as
'ephelis' and they are most common on redheaded people and are exacerbated by
exposure to the sun.
The word
'freckle' is a fine one and it is Old Norse in origin. It is derived from the
word "fracklen" which means 'spotted'. I quite like writing it
and saying it. I will write it again just for the pleasure of it. Freckle.
Nice.
I occasionally
call Johhny 'Freckles' and he doesn't mind.
He has been
called much worse.
Johhny and I
only had time for a quick coffee and a chat in India. We are both here for work
and we had a day full of meetings and other such nonsense. It was a pity as I
enjoy Johhny's company a lot.
We reminisced
a bit - as Australians often do when they haven't seen each other for a while.
We caught up on each other's news. Johhny reminded me of his fiftieth birthday
a couple of years ago. He is a few years older than me although he looks much
older.
Redheads
whither early.
We talked
fondly about Johhny's birthday celebration in Phuket which is a resort island
in Thailand. It was a black tie and mens only event at a mansion in a place
called Cape Panwa. More than fifty close friends gathered in Phuket from all
around the world for Johhny’s birthday.
He is a very good bloke and he is well regarded by his mates. We all like him a
lot. The tuxedo was a ridiculous idea though as it was more than forty degrees centigrade
and steaming hot.
We all baked.
The evening
started with several rounds of gins and tonic and Pimms and ginger ale on the
outside deck of the mansion. Everyone was so hot and thirsty in their tuxedos
that drinks were hurled down.
It was drunken
carnage after a couple of hours.
Johhny had
asked me several weeks before the event whether I would give a speech at his
birthday celebration and I told him that I would. As I have already mentioned I
have known the Tasmanian for a long time and I was honored to be asked. As I
quite often do when asked to speak at friend's milestone events - I wrote a
poem. Johhny knew this and he was I think expecting the same. I have written
and orated several poems for other events. I scribed one for my best mate Berty's
wedding and I have occasionally slipped some home written prose into other
public speaking gigs that I have done. People seem to like it.
It is a bit
different from run-of-the-mill speeches.
In Johhny's
case the poem was more of an ode and we referred to it as 'The Ode' in fact.
Johhny sent a copy of the ode that I wrote for his birthday to me just now - by
email. He asked for an electronic copy of it after the party and he has kept
it.
I was
struggling to think of anything to write about tonight so it gave me fodder for
this post. The poem is unremarkably titled "An Ode to
Johhny".
It is a very far
cry from my best piece of prose but you need to keep in mind the context and
the audience. It was written for a redheaded Tasmanian to a crowd of drunken
animals.
Here it is:
An Ode
to Johnny
Well Johnny
is a mate of ours
We’re here
today for him
To
celebrate his fiftieth
With wine
and beer and gin
So here we
are in suits and ties
And some of
us in jackets
Gathered
from around the globe
From different
social brackets
And me I’m
charged with the task
To tell you
one and all
Of how this
boy from Tassie
Does drive
us up the wall
So how do I
commence this job?
And what
have I to share?
Well I’ll
start at the beginning
And I’ll
work my way from there.
So let’s
wind back the clock a bit
Well fifty
years in fact
When John
was just a twinkle
In the eye
of his Mum Pat
1960 was
the year
That
Cassius Clay he fought
And Ben Hur
won the Oscars
And Adolf
Eichman caught
Belgian
Congo ‘came a nation
The Aswan
Dam was shaped
And from a
womb in Tasmania
A
red-haired boy escaped
And for
those that don’t know Tassie
It’s where
inter breeding thrives
Where
cousins marry aunties
And cattle
become wives
So John’s
brother is his uncle
And his
mother is his sis
And when he
sees his family
It’s with
their tongues they kiss
So 50 years
ago
This ginger
nut did drop
A wailing
and a screaming
And still
he does not stop
The doctor
at the birth of John
Was quite
unsure of gender
For tiny
cock this boy did have
All shriveled
small and slender
This little
cock remains just that
The subject
of much mirth
Some call
him little Johnny now
By length
and width and girth
But I’ll
not dwell on such matters
Which are
crass and somewhat cruel
For we must
not measure Johnny
By the length
of his small tool
Nor should
we measure Johnny
On his
claims he is neglected
For
ugliness is subjective
And looks
can be corrected
What can we
say of Johnny then
That all of
us agree?
We know he
loves to wine and dine
As long as
it’s for free
We know
that he loves tennis
We hear
that he’s well read
He claims
he does play cricket
Can’t bat
or bowl it’s said
We know
he’s on his second wife
The first
one was from Rome
He’s very
good in bed he says
Especially
when on his own
And John he
thinks he’s charming
And he has
some charming ways
But
sometimes he’s delusional
For sex he
mostly pays
Well I
better say some nice things now
In this
hero ode of mine
Coz
Johnny’s quite a decent chap
He tells me
all the time
He isn’t
cruel to animals
He doesn’t
chop down trees
He
sometimes buys me coffees
And he
gives to charities
He’s happy
when he’s drunk
And he
sometimes likes a toke
All in all
he’s not too bad
And quite a
decent bloke
Oh Johnny,
Johnny, Johnny
Johnny,
Johnny, Johnny, John
I am
running out of words here
And I feel
I’m still not done
For I have
not yet mentioned Carlton
His beloved
football team
And I have
not told the story
Of why his
favourite colour’s green
And I
haven’t broached the subject
How he
wooed sweet Tsesko san
Nor why she
still is with him
When she
could be in Japan
Nor have I
mentioned nudie days
With
Katrina – in Manila
Her skin
was brown but his was not
Twas much
closer to vanilla
How
rambunctious is our Johnny
Much what
he says preposterous
To some of
us his words are wise
But to most
he’s just obnoxious
And so my
friends I’m all but done
I think
I’ve said enough
Coz all
this rhyming’s done me in
And words
are not my stuff
So can I
ask you one and all
To rise now
and please stand
And lift
your glass to Johnny boy
Our half centurion
man!
It was good to
see old Freckles again and how strange it was to bump into him in India.
We have made
arrangements to catch up soon back home in Singapore.
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