It was now 3 months into 1967. I'd been in Lake Cargelligo for just over 3 years and by this time, I was shearing quite well. I had also got to know most of the local people for miles around. It was about that time of year again when the Lake Show was due to return. The 'Yorky jokes would start up in the bar room as to whether or not I would be taking another trip on the ShowGrounds. These type of leg-pulling sessions helped to entertain and pass the time for the locals. Who was I to deny them their little bit of fun?
There was no chance in hell I would ever travel on the ShowGround again. So, when the Show finally arrived, I decided to go and spend a few hours walking around.
You can imagine the laughs and jokes that arose when I ran into Kevin Skippy and Stan Booth.
"Hey Yorky, maybe that little blonde sheila of yours is around here somewhere.", said Skippy.
"I don't think so Skippy.", I said as we walked around.
"Maybe she's got a young'un at foot!", said Stan Booth, with a loud cackle.
"Very fucking funny Stanley", I said, playing along with him.
"Keep ya eye out for some little show kids that resemble Yorky, Stan. We should have fixed a rams' harness on him. That way, we could have seen where he'd been." That was Kevins' little joke.
More laughs and giggles came out of Skippy and Stan.
For a change the show weekend was quite sunny which made walking around the tents a bit more pleasant. As we walked around one side, Kevin spied FRED DUFFYS' STRIP TEASE tent and said,
"Here we go Yorky. Which one d'ya like this year sport?"
"None of 'em Skippy. I'm not even gonna go inside for a look this year."
"Come on Yorky. Ya may change ya mind when ya see a big pair of bare tits!", said Stan.
"No way Stan. I'll just wait for ya outside. I'm not wasting a cent on that con job."
As we continued walking around, we came to the Boxing Troop tent. This year, it was Roy Bells World Famous Champions.
"Here ya go Yorky.", said Skippy. You've gotta give us a little bit of entertainment mate. Soon as old Roy call for a local bloke go up on the board."
"Yeah, come on Yorky.", said Stan. "You could take on any one of those blokes one-handed!"
"Not on your life Stan. You go up there if ya want some fun and I'll come in and watch ya."
"Nah mate, I'm too fucking old for that caper. I used to have a go every year when I was younger."
"Did he Skippy or is he just bullshittin' me again?", I asked.
"No mate, he's fair dinkum. Every year old Stan would go up and get matched to one of the Abbos."
After 10 minutes had gone and no local Lake blokes had gone up on the board, I finally allowed Skippy and Stan to con me into taking on one of the boxing troop blokes. As Roy Bell was starting to panic a bit because no local residents would come up on the high platform so he could make a show, I stuck mi hand in the air and held it there.
"There's a game young bloke!", he roared over the mic. "Give him a big round of applause folks. He's the only one of you lot that's got any guts at all!"
The crowd was now clapping and shouting the name of 'YORKY' as I reached the top rung of the ladder and made mi way to the center of the high platform.
"Good on ya sport." roared Roy Bell over the mic as he offered me his hand.
Before he could say another word, I leaned over to him and whispered in his ear,
"I worked for Jimmy Sharman for a couple of months, so I know the ropes Roy."
He then whispered in my ear, "Good on ya mate. You've saved my weekend. Let's give 'em a fucking good show!"
I played my part to the hilt too by ripping off my shirt and flexing mi hard-working muscles to the crowd.
"Have a good look along that board Yorky mate.", spruked Roy. "Which one of my champion prize- fighters are ya gonna take on first?"
Roy stuck the mic in front of me and I roared out loud to the local crowd.
"I'll take 'em all on, one at a time, starting from any end of the board ya like and before the day's out, I'll knock 'em all arse over head!"
The crowd now let out a tremendous roar as they looked up at the platform of fighters with Yorky Mate, right in the middle of 'em, shirt off and both fists held high in the air in victory pose.
I must have had 8 to 10 fights that weekend. I made miself 30 bucks and saved the weekend for old Roy. Once some of the local Lake blokes saw Yorky up on the board and doing alright for himself in the ring, they mustered up a bit of courage to have a go themselves. Late Sunday afternoon, after my last bout, old Roy thanked me for my support and said, "Same time, same place next year Yorky? I'll keep an eye out for ya. Thanks for ya help mate."
