Even the Magnificent 7 didn’t emerge unscathed from their foray into the front line of their battle for justice against tyranny.
Of that great ensemble of heroes up against the worst that the cursed Mexican bandidos could throw at them, only three survived ….. and then one of the three, having come through a strafing of bullets, attempted garrotting and back stabbing betrayal…..guess what did!
Well beguiled by the deceitful flickering of eyelashes, the vulnerable fainting pleas and strangely attractive odour of an admittedly alluring Mexican maiden, he galloped back to become partners in wringing clothes in a nearby stream, battering them to stone dried submission of a handily placed rock and producing 40 screaming weans who would come in handy when the film ‘Return of the 7’ would eventually be produced.
Personally I would have preferred the garrotting ……… (although I have heard that from their humble beginnings the descendants of the two star struck lovers now run the biggest laundrette in Govanhill)!
Anyway the point was that of the SEVEN only TWO strong men and true remained to ride off into the sunset, fight another day and save another downtrodden village from exploitation and subservience.
And so with my own little band of troupers, a well-tuned ear would have been sensitive to the faint echo of history potentially repeating itself.
Today (Wednesday 19th November 2014) was Run-Day and as I donned my tailored and body hugging, muscle enhancing athletics gear I also chose from my assembled McGuffins the one who I thought was best placed to accompany me on my venture across Story Bridge and face the worst that the blazing sun, hordes of mad cycling natives and yellow and black lycra clad joggers could assail us with.
If only I had known the tragedy that lay at the end of such an innocent wee endeavour!
If only I had taken a moment to focus on the jeopardy that I would be placing my companion in!
If only I had known that following in the great footsteps of Charles Bronson, James Coburn Robert Vaughan, and the one we can never remember the name of……( ), my companion would come to an untimely end and respire no more; for all eternity to become part of the great natural flora and fauna of this finest of Australian cities.
It is indeed a tragic tail, but while I wish to record my regret and sorrow at the loss of such a funny, affectionate, intelligent pal, can I also add that the wee tight fisted bampot did to a great extent bring her untimely end on herself.
Still as it doesn’t befit anyone to speak ill of those who have gone, can I just record for posterity
Requiescant In Pace…….Angie Best…….or at least the hastily scribbled beer mat that she presented me with as her contribution to the McGuffin clan I was taking on my travels.
The tale is indeed exemplary and should remind everyone that karma is watching all the time and what you sow, so indeed will you reap!
The pictures of that day will appear in album near you soon, but these two should stick in your mind….the first is the McGuffin itself – my BMA or ‘Beer Matt Angie’ – (take it out her wages Fiona!) – YES! A flippin Beer Mat! Inscribed with ‘BEER MATT? Xxx”;
Note that it was taken while she/it was up a tree….What is it with my McGuffins and their reckless desire to climb trees?
The second is the scene of the final parting of ways….
I placed poor wee departed BMA against the A in BRISBANE….and then she was gone, fallen between the slats of the wooden supports.
I called to her …plaintively…..but I couldn’t quite grasp what she said…..(has anyone I wonder ever really understood what a beer mat is trying to tell you?)
Anyway there she lies now on the banks of the Brisbane river, in the company of the scurrying beasts of the waters edge.
Perhaps in there world they have seen her falling from their wooden sky and think she is some sort of Goddess. Perhaps even now they are surrounding her with gifts and garlands and writing the story of Beer Mat Angie……perhaps one day it will become their bible……perhaps the heat really has gotten to me !! 🙂 🙂 🙂