1001 Nights Cast

Well have you ever heard the like of it in all your born puff?

Yes, it’s little old me, Pauline.

I’ve just had dreadful news. Overheard it really. Shockin’ stuff. Certainly alarming. You’ll never guess. But you know how I hate to gossip. It’s not appropriate to go into detail. I don’t know what devilish compulsion drives people to huddle into corners with friends and neighbours and blast them with the latest on Mrs Prufrock and the milkman. How many cartons of the stuff does that brazen woman drink? Must be those funny red pills she takes. And how come he’s delivering after dear Mr Prufrock goes to work at the customs office? Surely that poor woman deserves some privacy. It’s wretched and mean. To say nothing about young Caitlin and that dreadful Scooter that got her up the duff. I blame the parents. And that mangy three-legged dog of theirs.

Anyhoo—you’ll be terribly upset. I know I was. Dreadful, dreadful news. Our Margaret Brinnin from down the road has gone and decided to get married to a foreigner, John Treece from Crookwell. Tap-dancing Jaysus, every man and his dog knows that Crookwell is well over 20km away and this kind of carry on isn’t what God intended. I mean he’ll never fit in here. No way Jose. What will the neighbours say? I feel sorry for the poor bloke. I’m not trying to discriminate against the lad but he doesn’t belong here and should just stay over there in Crookwell with all those foreigners over there.

Holy Comoly. If a lass goes 20km away to get hitched what’s to stop us going 30km or even 40kms! O dear these are uncertain days. It will end badly and if God Almighty had intended us to go that far afield to find a young fella then he wouldn’t have given us a shopping mall to sit around in would he now? He could be a gangster or a leper on a terrorist mission. And hasn’t he got a shockin’ accent on him? Can’t make sense of hide nor hair of him. I feel sorry for the kids—sure they’ll never be able understand their own Dad, not that Marge is any great shakes in that department. Doreen says Marge spreads straight from the fridge. You gotta laugh.

But you can bet his relatives will want to visit him and won’t we be invaded here at Crookwell Heights from those foreigners down there in Crookwell with that weirdo Crookwell accent so that we won’t be able to understand a friggin’ bloody word that comes out of their mouths and we’ll go crazy and forget how to speak proper good English and won’t be able to order a schooner at the local, God deliver us. What’s the world coming to?