Disclaimer: The author neither endorses nor supports reckless and unsafe behaviour where any children or driving and alcohol consumption is concerned. What he does endorse and fully support is having a sense of humour about things, especially where no ultimate harm was done.
I have a confession. Like all males since time immemorial I have an affinity for the company of other males who share the same core interests and priorities as I. The brotherhood that I woke up to find myself in its midst is none other than the Men of Thirst who Ndumiso Ngcobo (thoughtleader.co.za/silwane) and The Sumo (thoughtleader.co.za/thesumo) make such frequent reference to in their tales of drinking soirees gone wrong. Our mutual interest is as you may guess the consumption of that fine amber nectar of the gods. Excessive consumption that is.
And as with all such male societies we often react with great pleasure and no small sense of comradeship to news of other men like us from around the world who have their heads screwed on properly and know just what a man’s list of priorities should look like. If you are wondering, that list should start with a “B” and no, I don’t mean the hip-hop vernacular for a female of agreeable moral choices.
So imagine then, my delight today when I encountered the story linked here. The long and short of it is cops in Oz’s Northern Territories pulled over a vehicle driving on a highway and upon closer inspection found a most incredible scene; a 30-can case of beer (an aside here — someone needs to look into this for the RSA market, and YES, I’m looking at you SAB) was strapped down between two adults in the back while incredibly on the floor behind the front seats totally unrestrained, sat a five-year-old child. No, really. Take a moment to digest and picture this.
Can you imagine the kind of thinking that reached such a conclusion? I can just picture Bruce, Brucer and errrr Brucest walking out of whatever the Aussie version of Tops is, case being lugged by whichever unfortunate sod picked the short straw between them and then they get to the car and realise that there isn’t enough space on the seats for both life-giving waters and the evolved squirt. And naturally, neither can go into the boot. So then thinking caps need to be put on and used. Something has to give. None of the adults can sit on the floor/trunk so that option is out. So is the trunk. You need to be able to keep an eye on that which you cannot afford to damage of course.
So the interior of the car it has to be. Now here’s my question: how did they choose the beer over the child? Did they draw lots? Was it a vote? Rock Paper Scissors between the father of the scrote (assuming he was present among the beer recce crew) and the resident beer-guzzling machine, tossing a coin? And how’d they break the news to the kiddo? Was it the tough love frankness of “look here son, it’s beer man, you’ll understand when you grow up”. Or maybe the more sensitive and playful “hey little soldier, here’s a fun idea for the trip home”. And crucially, did they have a plan for keeping this from the kid’s mother? I can only imagine that confrontation would take more than 9.9 litres of beer (assuming a standard can size of 330ml of brown salvation) for a man to fend off. Oh to have been a beer-fume-inhaling fly on that wall.
Another bit that just tickled me silly was the police officer’s recounting of the driver’s reaction — “he said he didn’t know anything about it”. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Aussies, good for something, even if it’s an occasional laugh.
Author
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