ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

Get ready Australia, your pubs are about to come back online!

That’s the message from that bloke in each WhatsApp group that’s harped on about this pub lockdown to shoehorn a personality into himself.

But not so fast.

There’s still a number of state-specific and in some cases, local council criteria that pubs need to satisfy before the authorities will let them recommence trade.

Here in our cosmopolitan desert outpost, where nobody was kissed by the pangolin, pubs MUST have SIX pigeons out the front and NINE spoons in each cutlery tin before the can start serving customers.

The Betoota Shire Council has said the flying rats must be of the rock variety and not the fancy ones with the mohawks. Galahs, cockatoos and other more popular species of bird are not acceptable.

As the common rock pigeon is especially rare in the Simpson Desert, hundreds were driven up from Kangaroo Point overnight to satisfy local demand.

The nine spoons that have to be in each tin must not match in any way or be clean enough to use.

Spoons that match will mean the pub could face a penalty of up to $55 000.

Local publicans say they’re just happy to be serving customers again after nearly two and a half months of whinging and complaining about the pokies being switched off.

Tom Shepherd, General Manager of The Gelded Seahorse in the Old City District, spoke briefly to our reporter this morning as he wiped the dust of the pub’s tables with arguably the filthiest rag our reporter had ever seen.

“We’ve really been hurting,” he said.

“I missed three payments on the Prado because the boss couldn’t afford to pay me. Without the pokies, pubs like this would have to rely on customer service and good old fashioned hospitality. Fuck that noise, booyakasha!”

“But we’ve ordered the finest pigeons in Brisbane to sit out the front. We’ve tied them to the footpath with fishing line. Our chefs got all the spoons out of the big bucket this morning and jumped all over them. They’re all bent and fucked. Pretty dirty, too,”

“So come on down to the Gelded Seahorse today! Bring the office down at lunch. Fuck it, why go back to the office? Have four pints of heavy over your parmy? As if you’re going to be any use to anybody after that! You might as well keep drinking and make a cunt of yourself. Speak your mind to your boss? Abuse Tom who sits opposite you and chews with their mouth open every fucking day. Why stop with a verbal tongue lashing? You could always stew on it over another couple of pints and end up nutting the cunt in the smoking pokies by 8pm,”

“Pubs are back.”

More to come.


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