Jetty Road Weekly Blog 12/08/25
- jettyroad09
- Aug 12, 2025
- 4 min read
Malice in Wonderland
Digital Don Does Dirty Deeds
The POTUS of POTUSES. Prince Of Terminating Uncooperative Statisticians.
POTUS: The only thing that needs to add up is did I win?
The Base: The only thing that adds up is when you are right you are right and when they say you are wrong they are wrong. Baaa Baaa.
Murdoch: The only thing that adds up is do I make more money out of the Wall St Journal or Fox or both? Tee Hee.
Bannon: The only thing that adds up is the amount of shit we have to flood the zone.
Ghislaine: The only thing that adds up is how much do I get off my sentence for lying about Donald?
Putin: The only thing that adds up is how many more months/years I can keep leading him by the nose?
Bibi: The only thing that adds up is how many more innocent people do I need to kill to stay in power?
The World: The only thing that adds up is that two and two don’t make four anymore if POTUS says they make five.
The Base, The Republican Party, Fox News, Bannon, The Washington Post, Zuckerberg, The LA Times, CBS, The Coalition and Pauline Hanson: Two and two make five
Gone to the Dogs
Another Shaggy Dog Tale
(Just don’t mention the fleas)
I was in Darwin living in a caravan at the dog track with my father. He had done all the wiring of the track and was living there gratis – so he said. There was also the strong possibility that his gambling and drinking proclivities had something to do with our modest accommodation. Georgie Dyke a mate from Rosebery, living in Darwin at the time, suggested we go to a meeting. Well it was certainly a way to lose your money fast. No sooner had they jumped and it was all over. Hitherto the only faster way I knew to lose money was playing Slippery Sam at two o’clock in the morning with Rosebery miners after consuming far too much of the Boags product.
Back in Melbourne my father Roly would sometimes decamp from his watering hole at the TOK’H to a shack at Lakes Entrance. Darby was almost a permanent resident there. Then in his sixties he had been a professional golfer and a greyhound race caller in the depression for a commercial radio station in Melbourne. He was charged with making sure the sponsor’s name and product were mentioned during a race call. He told me this story about a meeting where he was praising a dog whose name is long forgotten – but which for sentimental reasons we will name after a famous Fred Dagg flea – and call him Daggy Boy. Well Daggy Boy is well in front and Darby chimes in with: “Daggy Boy is flying down the strait. He uses Pratt’s Famous Tonic.” Then as they round the bend to the home straight Daggy Boy comes a cropper. Darby is not fazed, not missing a beat in his call. “And Daggy Boy has fallen! He’s been barrelled off the track. He needs Pratt’s Famous Tonic!”
I can’t pretend to be sentimental about the demise of greyhound racing in Tassie. After that Darwin meeting I never felt the inclination to pay it much attention. There are no doubt many characters and many stories. I will leave you with one of my favourite race calls: Fred Dagg and the Flea Race. Enjoy.
Life on the Railway
Tales from the Abt
My good mate Ralph who passed away early this month lived on the railway as a young boy. His family had lived at Teepookana during the depression. They then went to live on the North west Coast where Ralph was born only to return in the late 1940’s to live at Rinadeena.
Eddie
Eddie is Ralph’s older brother. He was in a hurry to arrive. His Mum Bertha was heavily pregnant and then living at Teepookana, with her only recourse being to call upon Uncle Ern. He placed her suitcase on a work trolley for Bertha to sit on. Then he hand pumped that trolley 9k’s all the way down to Strahan. Eddie was duly delivered a healthy baby with the addition of two thumbs on one hand. They did not muck around, tied off the extra digit with catgut and let it wither away naturally. Such a pity. A great career as a one-handed goal umpire or an intrepid hitchhiker – nipped in the bud.
Dougie and Oscar
Whilst Rinadeena was relatively close to Queenstown there was no access by road. So it was either the train or walk out to the Strahan road where Ralph’s brother Dougie kept a small sedan. This was 1954 and Dougie and his mate Oscar Triffet had decided they would travel to Hobart for the weekend to meet the Queen. Off they set only to discover they could not get out of second gear. No problem. Back they came, cut a hole in the floor, scrounged a steel bar to release the gear cogs and proceeded on to Hobart. They saw the Queen, slept in the car and returned on what was still a gravel road of winding and challenging terrain to clock on for work on the Monday morning.
Most of the Marshall children – nine of whom survived to adulthood travelled on the Mt Lyell train to school in Strahan. Ralph, Eddie and his brother Colin included. I am indebted to Ralph for the inspiration for this song.
Raindrops on Rinadeena
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