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The
Murray Houseboat Trip 2003 Top 13!!!!!
(Compiled by Nath)
To all those of the
houseboat:
Wayne, Deb, Sammy, Ani, Loz, Flecknoe, Flecknoe, Jones, Jones, Heath, Lachie,
Leeeeeeroy, Haylez, Georgia, Marty, Pinhead, Mrs. Pinhead.
And those, unfortunately, not of the houseboat (next year dudes?):
Sharps, Sharps, Richo, Helen, Maria, Battered Sav, Lukey, Sal, Gav.
Shall this legendary week that was the houseboat trip become a steadfast
tradition!, I for one will definately be back from o/s next year for it!
Now, in the tradition of Wayne and Richo's world tours, I have seen it fit to
quickly knock out what I see as being the top 13 events of our week long tour in
ascending order of indecency.
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NUMBER #13. As much as I don't like dwelling on other people's misfortune,
I have always felt that special recognition should be extended to Hayley for her
fall down the houseboat stairs. I'm sure I'm not the only one who knew that if I
made if through the week without going arse over on the stairs then it'd be a
miracle, but the fact that this lass, who usually has the coordination and poise
of a leapord could fall down all that way and not injure herself is unreal.
NUMBER #12. Presentation night must also get a mention as being one of the
outright highlights of the trip. Over the week myself and the honorable
and also very often pissed Mr. Richard Flecknoe found it appropriate that we
should pay homage for all of those out there who were ‘having a go’.
The Brownlow style ‘Goonlow Awards’ certainly served this purpose, allowing
three people to get appropriate recognition every day, with a cumulative score
revealing the top pissheads to be Rich himself and and Wayne coming into the
final night, and quite obviously with Wayne being the deserved overall winner in
the end. This bloke may just be mentioned later...
NUMBER #11. Again, just a brief but very much worthwhile mention must go
to Ani, who in her goon induced drunken stupor decided that it was ‘floating
time’. Being a responsible bunch, it was ensured by all that the
houseboat’s life jacket was very much serving its purpose on her. There
will never be anything quite like being one of the many blokes floating our way
back to the boat and having to constantly remind one of our favorite kiosk
chicks the benefits of ‘keeping your head above water’. Indeed, she
was the most convinced when Heath mentioned that ‘you’ll get a better tan if
you keep your head above…’. Whatever works hey.
NUMBER #10. Greg Jones. As it turned, Greg wasn’t exactly partial
to spending five nights with his incredibly sexy brother in a double bed.
Taking one for the team, he decided to sleep on a smaller couch, which for a big
bloke isn’t an easy task. To all of us who had the privilege of walking
past this bloke during the night to grab a drink or to empty the one eyed
trouser snake will surely know what I’m talking about when I mention the word
‘Meercat’. To paint an average picture, this bloke had his feet up on
the arms of the couch, both hands up near his face swatting the countless flies
around him and was snoring like a bloody chainsaw that wouldn’t start.
Someone mentioned that he looked like a Meercat – and hence the name stuck.
NUMBER #9. I’m sure we’ll never again see a bloke with the
determination of Jonesy. Indeed it is an admirable effort when a bloke can
wake up hungover wearing nothing but a VB apron – and stay like that for the
whole day. Driving the boat (with a sword up his arse), eating, drinking,
boozing, and later in the night in the spa. This bloke is a beacon to us
all, and to the gods of VB.
NUMBER #8. Houseboat full of fellow holidaymakers going past. Wayne
fishing off front of boat completely nude using an empty VB can as bait.
That’ll do.
NUMBER #7. Jonesy and Wayne jumping off the boat nude again in front of
another houseboat. A fine salute. Great to see all the video cameras
and flashes going off from the other boat on the rather cold day…
NUMBER #6. One of the things that struck me the most over the week was the
tireless compassion that our crewmates held for others. Upon initially
leaving the jetty from which we hired our beast of a boat, we headed towards the
campsite where many more of us were catching carp and getting pissed. Some
time into the journey, it was realised that a boat from the same company who had
left before us had ran into some difficulty – indeed they had crashed their
vessel into a tree branch busting a window and damaging the side of their boat
quite substantially. Two older blokes, obviously pissed off their arse
weren’t too concerned with the debacle unfolding around them on their boat,
but, naturally, their bloody wives were. Two ladies were going completely
off their tree, indeed their dream week away on the murray had came to a
premature and abrupt standstill. One lady saw it fit to yell her
predicament to our passing boat, to which she was met with a small, yet
significant moment of silence and respect. Once this second was over, the
seven or so nude blokes on the roof and the bloke in full pirate’s costume
were henceforth absolutely relentless in pointing out to these people that their
boat was rooted and ours wasn’t in a bloodcurdling display that will forever
make the real Blackbeard proud.
NUMBER #5. Put yourself in this bloke’s position. You are a fat
dickhead of a wog. You are in a real hurry to get out of Bendigo, and in
your obvious haste you nearly run up the arse of Leeroy’s beast and swerve
dangerously near the Jones’ “family car”. Next thing you know, your
frustration builds because four cars around you seem to be communicating with
each other with ‘borrowed’ UHF’s handheld radios and are purposefully
boxing you in well below your desired speed. More so, these blokes have
recruited one of Australia’s fine truck drivers on channel 40 to give a
helping hand. For well over 15 kilometers these cars keep you locked in
and there is nothing you can do except for gesture wildly like the wanker you
are. Again, imagining you’re an angry fat wog, and finally, yes finally
you get away from this stronghold and escape like a GS bloke out of the battery
house – you are bloody followed in determined pursuit by Leeroy, a gallant
effort even with his kayak on top. Very determined and well-executed...
NUMBER #4. Indeed, no #4 is in essence a complete homage to a bloke named
Wayne. There is two reasons for this – firstly for being one of the two
gentlemen who started the tradition of ‘Murray trips’ many years ago – and
for winning, (in a last night on the boat effort), the acclaimed ‘goonlow
medal’, for consistent and obvious drunkenness and shenanigans. Indeed
in my time on the boat there is no moment that displayed this determination for
glory than one particular night in the spa. Yes, the debauchery in the spa
was down to five key players, myself not too lagered, Dick Flecknoe completely
lagered, Deb very lagered and, of course, Wayne (nothing needs to be said).
It had came to that part of the night where the spa was off, and nudity was
everywhere and widely accepted (tell me we weren’t all completely used to
seeing Dick nude by the end…). Acting upon Deb’s gentle coaxing, Wayne
realised that indeed it was bed time. Naked as the day the bloke was born
he exits the spa, and does no less than 5 complete laps of the upper deck.
This detailed clothing search reveals a wife-beating top and a sock. With
a look that can never be impersonated properly he looks at Deb like a 3 year old
that has just pissed himself in his new pants and in true Homer Simpson fashion
he exclaims innocently to the small crowd “…I seem to have misplaced my
pants”, to which he turns, and stumbles his way back to the tent.
NUMBER #3. Dick and myself on one particular night were ending the night
as too many nights seemed to be ending – alone and nude in the spa, and the
spa wasn’t even on. As Dick once said, the water level was so low from
there previously being up to 15 people in it that he once mentioned ‘Bakes, I
think our logs were floating…’. Anyway, in the midst of incredibly
intellectual and stimulating 4am conversation, Dick gets up out of the spa
(again dropping the old water level!), stumbles over to the edge and releases an
absolute monster chunky hurl – apparently heard clearly from a previously
asleep Loz at the campsite a substantial distance away. In this man’s
drunken wisdom he decides that ‘no one knows I’ve spewed, I’ll just
pretend I was going for an impromptu swim!’, and jumps in – in his dinner.
What was even better was listening to him get out of the Murray eventually, wipe
himself off and then deny black and blue that he emptied his guts off the edge
and jumped in it. Mate, people in Adelaide were worried for your welfare.
NUMBER #2. Many of you will certainly be aware that during the week it was
the 150th anniversary of Ballarat’s Eureka rebellion, or something like that.
Without dwelling on our own response to this milestone too much, having one of
the 40th regiment’s finest soldiers getting completely shitfaced, being
ordered to march into the Murray, pissing under the eureka flag, and later
garrying the ladies in the spa bath will always be a fine salute to this
important event in Australia’s history.
And now... the long awaited #1....
NUMBER #1. Indeed, the pursuit for a No. #1 amongst this week of action
and glory has been an arduous task. However, upon careful consultation and
perusal a definite winner has emerged. Shall I bring you all back to the
last night in the spa. Indeed, this was the night of many highly
successful goon based drinking games including “Who stole the goon from the
– spa bath”, “Perpetual Goon” and, naturally, Australia’s favourite
game, “Goon of Fortune”. By the end of many hours of these games (I
have heard the quote many times of over 21 litres of goon being consumed in this
session alone!) I don’t generalise in saying that everyone was completely
fuckeyed. And thus I turn to my winner. As it turned out, at one
stage it was apparent that Sammy had ‘stole the goon from the – spa bath’.
Like the trooper that she is, she swigs her fair share of the fine wine from the
bag, turns her head around, lays a pavement pizza on the deck, CRAWLS out of the
spa, CRAWLS over the railing, CRAWLS to the edge and releases a years worth of
burley for the carp into the river, stumbles back the spa, hops back in,
realises that again she has ‘stolen the goon from the – spa bath’ and
keeps boozing. Sammy, I for one salute you.
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There you go dudes, I hope my quick list has gone at least some of the way to
revealing just how cool the week was. Cheers to Leeroy too for being the main
organiser of the whole shindig...
Enjoy the four scanned collages in the next email I'll send too...
Cheers!,
Nath
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