Ah obbie, I have a story about the Jardine...later.
And Gert - some about The Grand, The Fed and The Gateway too.
Ladies - here is the next chapter. You have got me reminiscing, so there'll be a few more yet!
While I was still working in the pub, one chap (I’ll call him Fred as I can’t remember his name now – can still see his face plain as day though!) that frequented the bar was annoying. Very very annoying. He drove everyone nuts one way or another. He would drive us crazy, continually being rude, crude and disgusting and always asking one of us to “put out” and when we politely or not so politely declined his offer he would then start putting $50 notes on the bar to tempt one of us. The pile was impressive – he was not! The boss lady (and I use that term loosely – she was no lady!) decided she could do with a bit extra and took Fred up on his offer many times, but then she was pretty mad (I’d seen her swinging off the security gate and wailing out the back most nights!) and wasn’t at all fussy.
A couple of yachties were in town, they were lovely and would come in most days to have a beer, lunch and a chat. One day even they’d had enough of Fred, he was in fine form after several dozen beers, the pile of cash was getting higher and they were sick to death of him, wondering how on earth I put up with all his carrying on! They came in with a small box of Epson Salts, quietly telling me that if I mixed one teaspoon into his beer it would give him the runs and he’d leave me alone. By this stage I’d had enough, I’d do anything to have an hour or 2 without him in my ear. We couldn’t turf him out on his ear as he was never rowdy or picking fights. We had complained to the boss, but in her eyes, money was money and it didn't matter how it got in the till or what we had to put up with to get it there!
So I did it! I mixed a teaspoon into his beer. He was too far gone by this stage to realise there were crystals in the bottom of his glass. I was attentive. I watched him like a hawk. I smiled and nodded and kept myself together when his belly started making horrendous growling grumbling noises that we could all hear. Fred started to sweat and then looked a bit pale and uncomfortable. He clutched his belly and groaned.
I asked if he was ok, he shook his head, his eyes were like saucers, he farted once, shot off his bar stool like a man possessed and with his legs crossed and his bum cheeks clenched firmly together with both hands he was out the back door to the men’s dunnies quicker than lightening.
I shot out after him – along with half the bar, who by now knew what was happening and we watched Fred somehow hold his belly, wipe the sweat from his forehead, hold his bum cheeks together and drop his daks and climb the steps all before he got the loo. The noise that emanated from the loo was incredible, the only thing missing was the lightening as it sounded like a wet season thunderstorm, the groaning sounded hilarious, and Fred did not come out.
I was in fits of giggles, the rest of the patrons were laughing and buying the yachties and me drinks and the packet of Epsom Salts was put up on a shelf for all to see.
About a week later Fred came into the bar again. (I got more than an hour or 2 in peace!) He didn’t look good, he was a bit thinner and still pale and quietly sat on his bar stool and ordered a lemonade. I had to ask him how he was feeling and where had he been as we really hadn’t missed him in the week that he had been gone. Fred looked at me and started to explain in great detail how he’d been crook, that he’d picked up a bait from somewhere and had spent the past week no more than 3 paces from the dunny.
I laughed and fessed up. I told him in no uncertain terms that he gave me and all the other staff the willies, we were all sick to death of him and his antics and unsavoury propositions and that I had dosed him with Epsom Salts. I pointed to the packet on the shelf telling him that was the bait he had picked up. Fred finished his lemonade and left.
A few days later he came back looking a bit better, sat down quietly and ordered a beer. (Keeping a good eye on me and the packet of salts up on the shelf all the time!) He then apologised to all and sundry and said he was a changed man and wouldn’t be like that again. He was pretty good from then on, but if he did start getting a bit ordinary to any of us, all we had to do was point up to the Epsom Salts and he pulled his head in real quick!
