"Showie mate.", I said to the ticket man.
"Whose show, sport?"
"Chad Morgan."
"Go straight in mate."
Inside the tent was a roped-off area. In the center of the roped-off area was a thatched straw hut. Sitting outside the hut were four small pygmies. All of them had a tightly curled, negroid beard. Each one of them had a bone shoved through the septum of his nose. One of them had a large pair of brass earrings. The others had a large hole in their lobes where the thick rings had once hung.
As soon as anyone entered the tent, they would make a war-like cry as they charged towards the boundary ropes, carrying their shields of bark and pointing their sharp spears. After this, they would speak to each other in their own language. Then, one of them pointed to someone, usually a young woman, then they'd all look at the large cooking pot which stood over a charcoal fire. After this, they'd all go back inside the straw hut and the sprooker would say,
As soon as anyone entered the tent, they would make a war-like cry as they charged towards the boundary ropes, carrying their shields of bark and pointing their sharp spears. After this, they would speak to each other in their own language. Then, one of them pointed to someone, usually a young woman, then they'd all look at the large cooking pot which stood over a charcoal fire. After this, they'd all go back inside the straw hut and the sprooker would say,
"The show's over. The pygmies are going to sleep for a while."
"That show stinks!", I heard someone say as they left the tent.
I went off into one more show, before I went back to work. It was the Maori Troubadours. The band consisted of six Maoris. They stood an a stage, with a backdrop of a Maori village painted on a huge canvas. They took turns at singing their local songs in their own language. I only had enough time to listen to one song but I planned to come back later, as they were really good.As I was sauntering around at a steady pace, checking out the poster boards, a big Melbourne City Copper stopped me.
"G'day.", he said.
"G'day.", I said, in a friendly sort of way.
I was not expecting anymore than a greeting, when he said to me,
"Your name Richard Swindells, mate?"
I almost fell over with shock when he asked me that question.
"What if it is?", I said, not knowing how the hell he knew my name, 'cause all anyone knew me by, on the showgrounds, was Yorky.
"Show us ya arms.", he said.
"What for? I've done nothin' illegal."
"I wanna' make a positive ID, 'cause we've got a wanted poster for you, back at our local station."
"You must be mistaken.", I said, with a bit of fear now creeping into mi voice."
"Just be a good lad and show me ya arms."
"All right, but that's all!"
When he saw the tattoos on mi arms, he said, "Where did 'ya git those from?"
"Rex Stokers in Bradford, England. Why?"
"Just making sure I've got the right man."
"The right man for 'what'? I've done nothin' wrong."
Now I was getting really scared, as he questioned me.
"We've got a missing child report out on you. It's been circulated all over Australia."
"You must be joking? Who would file a missing report on me?"
He put his hand in the top pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, back notebook, and started to thumb through the pages.
I stood there, in front of him, waiting in anticipation.
"Ah! Here we are. A Mrs. I. Bailey from England has filed a lost child report on you."
"Oh shit! That's mi mother."
"How long since you wrote home son?"
"Probably about six weeks."
"Well according to my information, it says here that you've not been seen or heard from for three months."
"That's not true. She's a panic merchant. If I don't write every week she thinks I've been killed or something."
"Where d'ya live in Australia?"
"At Lake Cargelligo, New South Wales."
"How long ya staying at the show?"
"Oh, probably till the end of it.", I said.
"Alright, tell ya what I'm gonna' do. By rights, I should take you back to the station to fill out a report but seeing as ya look healthy enough to me, I'll do it later miself. Now, listen to me young fella'. We don't have time to go looking for every Tom, Dick or Harry that gets reported missing. We've got better things to do with our time, like chasing down hardcore criminals. Now! I want ya to promise me you'll write home to ya old mother, 'cause it's obvious to me she's worried about ya. Is that a deal?"
"Yes.", I said.
I'd have said 'yes' to anything at that point.
"Make sure ya do and don't get into any trouble. You're pretty young to be looking after yourself. I've got a young bloke, same age as you but I'm damn sure I wouldn't be letting him work on no showgrounds. Now, Take good care of yourself and if I was you, I'd head straight back to Lake Cargelligo after the shows are over. Alright?"
"Alright.", I said and walked off into the crowd. 'What an embarrassment!', I thought, as I got lost in the sea of bodies that were milling around the showground. 'Just wait till I write another letter to Iris, I'll soon put a stop to her shenanigans!'
