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From The Bucket’s Complaints Department

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Mr Anders Oberleuter from Kandersteg, Switzerland, wrote;

Hello there Mr Bucket,

This is being Anders here. On the last story you have been publishing photograph shooting from your house looking in the one direction only with the words telling me “Not a neighbour in sight….in any direction.” Yah? How can I know this to be true story from just one picture?
I am now needing the snapshorts looking onto the other three directions for me to believe you telling me the truth.

Long live all your dingoes in the billabong Cobber,


Certainly Sir.   My pleasure.
You obnoxious distrustful culturally insensitive old bastard.
Here are the sights which I see when looking through the other windows of my house Mr Oberleuter.

View from the East window

View from the West window


View from the North window

OK, are you satisfied now?
I admit that I lied with my original statement, Mr Oberleuter.

The last thing I need is for the likes of you to come poking around these parts interfering with my view.

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GOF goes fission

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When GOF eventually kicks his own Bucket and passes through the heavenly S-bend portal into Mother Nature’s Organic Matter Recycling Factory, he should be remembered for the seventy-three innovative proposals which he published on this blog in order to make the world a better place.

That not a single one of them has been implemented or even taken a little bit seriously is more a reflection of Public Service inertia rather than any inherent deficiencies in his concepts and designs.

When, in the year 2092, he is reincarnated as Mao Tse Gof and rules the planet as the ever-so-slightly benevolent supreme commander of the world’s single unified country, the Federated United Kingdom of Independent Territories, all 73 proposals will be implemented immediately.  

Meanwhile he has to suffer as a martyr to his numerous causes, and you have to suffer reading about it.    It’s a cruel world.

*        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *

Traffic Squad Officer Sergeant Engelbert Crankshaft;
“Good afternoon Sir.  Would you happen to be the owner of this centre-parked truck bearing the number plate GOF- 4PM ?

GOF;  “Yes Officer, is there some sort of problem?”

Crankshaft;  “Well indeed there is Mr GOF. The traffic jam you see backed-up into the distance extends for 24 kilometres along the Captain Cook highway.”

GOF;  “Dear oh dear, I wonder what sort of obstruction could have caused that to happen.”

Crankshaft;  “Well it appears to be somewhat related to the four metre long cannon barrel sticking all the way out of the back of your truck Sir, which is blocking the entire carriageway and causing many drivers and pedestrians to both poo their pants and become extremely angry at what you have done.  Cannon barrels have that effect on people you know.”

GOF;  “Oh $#%&!  Well I do apologise. I thought I’d fixed the
auto-retraction mechanism yesterday.  I’ll winch it back in immediately and drive back home to fix it.”

Crankshaft;    “Just a small question first Mr GOF if you don’t mind;    Why do you have a twelve-foot long retractile armament mounted beneath your vehicle?”

GOF;  “It’s not actually an armament Officer, it’s just a length of water pipe that I carry around in case I might need it on the farm to repair the water reticulation systems into my ostrich paddocks.”

Crankshaft;  “So if it’s only a water pipe, why then has my explosives-detector dog suddenly gone totally apeshit and shoved his snout all the way up the end of your “water” pipe?”

GOF;  “Oh that!  Easily explained. You see, my dog at home likes chasing things, so occasionally I put a charge of gunpowder or dynamite in the end of the cannon barrel  water pipe……. hehe…….you almost caught me out there Officer…… to fire coconuts down into the paddock for him to chase.”

Crankshaft;  “Is there anything else that you fire out of your cannon slash water pipe Mr GOF?”

GOF;  “Well, truth be told, in the early nineties I bought a shipping container load of replica coconuts from Iraq because I ran out of fresh local ones……they were very cheap, and the funny thing was that they actually look a little bit like bombs or cannonballs, but the Bill of Lading assured me that they were replica coconuts.”

Crankshaft;  “And do you still entertain your dog by firing these Iraqi faux coconuts down into your paddock?”

GOF;  “No, I stopped doing that a while back because the dog started to glow in the dark and he was passing iridescent green stools. The neighbours weren’t happy either because he got their purebred bitch pregnant and she gave birth to a litter of puppies that had two tails where the ears should be, and an ear where……..oh it was a terrible business……you know how difficult it can be to clean out dog ears.

Crankshaft;  Mr GOF, I am not appreciating your levity and deception.  I require you to answer all my questions truthfully.
It appears to have escaped your notice that you are in……let me put it in plain language for you……quite deep shit, because I could not help but notice that there are 59 deep notches filed into the barrel of whatever you’d like to call it.

This may well be a coincidence, but as you are probably aware, during the last two months we have recovered precisely 59 unexplained radioactive car wrecks from grass verges adjacent to highways in the local district.
I am beginning to suspect that you might possibly have had something to do with these motoring mishaps.

Please retract your “water pipe” so that traffic can start moving again, then accompany me back to the station for additional questioning.  Unfortunately I am required to handcuff you, but first Mr GOF, please bring me the book which you have been attempting to hide under the driver’s seat of your truck.

GOF;  “Oh yes, The Bible in Swahili.”

Crankshaft;  No, Mr GOF, not that one……the other larger coffee-table style publication;

“GOF’s Illustrated Manual for Exterminating Tailgaters.”

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Tailgaters #1, #2 and #3......a very good start.

Imaginary friends

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On my mother's side of the GOF family I do not know any living relatives, and there is only one older cousin on my dad's side.  
She has a large clutch of children and grandchildren, most of them living within downwind spitting distance of her in Victoria.

Whenever she has an advance warning of my visit she gives them all  a cautionary warning about the black sheep of the family who, whilst still a teenager, nicked off and ran away to New Guinea, and
"if any of you lot choose a similarly rebellious attitude you will also end up living a life of squalor in some North Queensland jungle"

Cousin Liz has memories about me which pre-date my own memories about me.

Apparently in 1951 alongside the country road between Castlemaine and Daylesford there were three ramshackle unoccupied cottages.
Relics from the 1850's gold rush.
Liz's fanciful story relates that I had an imaginary friend living in one of the old houses.  His name was Uk.  Uk apparently had a very productive and interesting life, and my stories about him often entertained my parents during the one hour drive between the two towns.

As that great Prince of Pontification would have it;

"The best predictor of future behaviour, is past behaviour."

Yes Dr Phil, you nailed it.  
I indeed have had a couple of imaginary friends since then, and I would not have wished for it to be otherwise.


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Happy Birthday Eleanor Nancy Gow

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Happy 45th today Eleanor.  Thank you for the part you have played in my life.
Please call me when you are next in my neighbourhood.

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Globet Inc.

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Ten years ago, our daughter generated for herself the nickname "Globet".

It is the sort of obscure name you see on personalised car number plates that makes you wonder what significance it has to the owner.
I do know the derivation of "globet", but it deserves to remain shrouded in mystery.

Last night, in the most vivid of dreams, I discovered a telephone directory entry for "Globet Inc." 
A display advertisement of magnitude normally reserved for a major airline or large government department.

Now for me, those who profess to interpret dreams have as much credibility as astrologers.   (i.e. very close to zero.)

In this case however, I am prepared to make an exception.

I forsee that I am going to be cared for extremely well indeed during my rapidly approaching autumn years.

I can also see a little red convertible and a penthouse apartment.

And then that retired Aussie supermodel who has been avoiding me for all these years might just change her mind.

And just when I was about to set the final jewels in my crown of fantasy, Mrs GOF had to come in here and ask me what I was thinking about, and would I like a cup of tea.

Now I've lost my train of thought.

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Elle and GOF; A texting love story

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Herewith continues the long running romantic saga of GOF and Elle.
The Bald (ing) and the Beautiful.

For over 20 years I have been subjected to much hurtful ridicule from my friends who did not fully understand my obsession  academic interest in Elle's career.
Poor sad GOF.   😦

When I recently saw an advertised service offering to predict romantic future simply by texting first names on my mobile phone and paying a very reasonable fee to the nice people there, I saw it as an opportunity to bypass the biased, uncaring, and unwanted opinion of these friends.

What more information would these incredibly gifted telephonic clairvoyants possibly need to have, in order to make an intelligent and realistic prediction of our impending hot and steamy love life, than first names?    I am a trusting human soul.

Txt;     GOF  AND   ELLE     (my mobile phone is 10 years old and only texts in capital letters)

Response;   "What the hell ridiculous name is GOF and it's high time you acted your age and stopped pestering retired supermodels"

So which one of my stupid friends is operating this stupid service anyway?!!!!

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My cups runneth over

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Upliftbras is a charity organisation seeking donations of brassieres for distribution amongst disadvantaged women around the world,  and is currently supplying them to Papua New Guinea.

Given my close connections with PNG, I feel it is my responsibility to lend a hand (or possibly even both) in support.

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