Toadfish Monastery

"Knees up mother Brown, knees up mother Brown,
Knees up, knees up, don't get a breez up,
knees up mother Brother!"

Last corny old English holiday camp song Post

But then I woke up realised, thank heavens, that it was all just a bad dream.

The person below me has read every book written by Terry Pratchett, even the ones written for children.

I find it very difficult to listen to this song with a dry eye, not that the song is so emotional itself, although it is, but because it makes me think about what it stands for.  I know of no better commentary on the futility of war than this song.

Sadly, no longer do any veterans of the Gallipoli campaign survive - the last known survivor of the ANZAC forces at Gallipoli, Alec Campbell(indeed he was the last known survivor at all of the Gallipoli campaign), died in 2002 aged 103.  He was 16 when he signed up.

---

The Band played Waltzing Matilda

Eric Bogle

• 
  Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
  And I lived the free life of the rover.
  From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
  Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
  Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
  It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
  So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
  And they marched me away to the war.
  
  And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
  As the ship pulled away from the quay,
  And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
  We sailed off for Gallipoli.
  
  And how well I remember that terrible day,
  How our blood stained the sand and the water;
  And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
  We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
  Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
  He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
  And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
  Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
  
  But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
  When we stopped to bury our slain,
  Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
  Then we started all over again.
  
  And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
  In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
  And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
  Though around me the corpses piled higher.
  Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
  And when I woke up in me hospital bed
  And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
  Never knew there was worse things than dying.
  
  For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
  All around the green bush far and free --
  To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
  No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.
  
  So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
  And they shipped us back home to Australia.
  The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
  Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
  And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
  I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
  And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
  To grieve, to mourn and to pity.
  
  But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
  As they carried us down the gangway,
  But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
  Then they turned all their faces away.
  
  And so now every April, I sit on my porch
  And I watch the parade pass before me.
  And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
  Reviving old dreams of past glory,
  And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
  They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
  And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
  And I ask meself the same question.
  
  But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
  And the old men still answer the call,
  But as year follows year, more old men disappear
  Someday, no one will march there at all.
  
  Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
  Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
  
  And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
  Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?
  

---

Listen here

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S T R I C K L Y   C O N F I D E N S H U L

To: 'Eadmaster

From Master of D'stillin

Dear 'Eadmaster,

Oi aheared that Dr Austin Wheelwright PhD, DCO, KFC, AK47 and Bar be amaking a newsents o' hisself.  If ye ba avin ani trubbel wiv 'im, Oi 'ave some interstin fotograffs taken on a resent voyage ter the far east wot he undertook on me ship wen Oi last visitied that part o' the globe.  Ye mite loik ter mention Chantel, Roxanne and Bubbles oo were 'is "assistants" an' enquire as to just who "Snooky" woz.  Oi am sure that you will foind 'im ter be much more accommodatin after ye do this.

Master o' distillin (an' skullduggery) Bluenose

I read this with a kind of morbid fascination.  It is almost beyond belief.

The article skirts around the legal issues, but it occurs to me that this facility would surely be in direct contravention of the UN convention on the rights of the child.  It is a pity that so many countries put so little importance on fulfilling their international obligations.

Frankly I find the whole milieu of this place deeply disturbing.

Sibling Bluenose

'Ere yer go, 'eadmaster,

This be that 'ogs'ead o' me special over-proof, err... tonic ye were askin abowt.

Dyer want me ter put it down in the budgetin room (he he, ho ho) where ye be doin th' budget estimates (never 'eard it called that before!) with the new Biology Mistress?

Master o' Distillin' Bluenose

Oi reckon ye kud ave me cabin boy, Tommie, e be prittie fair, iffen Oi ken get im off the Cyclops Fire Truck wot e stole from me new still.  (Oi never did werke out wot it woz four)  'E be aard ter beat at pin-ball too!

Cap'n Bluenose

There is a sort of unspoken tradition in the Navy that if a sailor can come up with a truly inventive but believable excuse, one that the captain has not heard before, he will get off.

On this particular ship there was a sailor, Able-seaman Jones.  Jones was notorious for always being adrift (returning onboard late from shore leave) and always had a different, unbelievable excuse.

One morning during a port visit the Captain noticed that there was a particularly long line of saiors outside the regulating office when he went to perform his duties at the Captain's Table.  He noticed Jones amongst the throng and sighed heavily to himself thinking that this was going to be a bad morning.

The first sailor was brought in and duly charged with being adrift by 15 minutes.  The captain asked him if he had anything to say in his defence.  The sailor said "well, Sir, I had been out in the countryside and I realised that it was getting close to time to return onboard so I hired a horse drawn cart to get me back in time.  Everything was going fine and I would have been back in time except when we were about a half a mile from the ship the horse collapsed and died and I had to run the rest of the way and that is why I was late."  Well, the captain had never heard this one before so he said "Ok Sailor, I'll let you off this time, but in future, please ensure that you allow for unforseen sicrcumstances and aim to get back earlier.  Case dismissed!"

The next sailor was led in and it seemed that he too had had his horse collapse and die on him on the way back to the ship.  smelling a rat, named Able-Seaman Jones, the Captain waited for the sailor to finish and then said "Case proved.  Seven dayd extra duties.  Next case!"

Again the sailor trotted out the same excuse and so on, each sailor making the same excuse and the captain was getting more and more non-plussed.

Finally Able-seaman Jones was led in.  "Don't tell me, Jones," said the Captain "you hired a cart..."  but before he could finish Jones piped in with "Oh no Sir, I was walking back to the ship.  I would have made it in plenty of time too, Sir, but when I was about half a mile from the ship the road was blocked up by all these dead horses..."

...well, having been brought up as good little catholic boy, been through the full thing, nuns, brothers, confirmation and all, I believe I am qualified to report that not very much does.  Generally it seems to be based on the idea that a bunch of old men dressed in bad frocks living in an ancient Italian city can do all your thinking for you.  In fact all the really important thinking has already been done, at least a couple of hundred years ago, by people called saint whatever his name was and there really is no need to indulge in any of that namby-pamby modern liberal excuse for thinking that everyone else seems to go in for these days.   

You may have guessed that I have changed my allegiance regarding the RCC since my boyhood.

The person below me has never eaten chocolate coated ants

Quote from: Swatopluk on November 27, 2006, 03:44:19 PM
Why is it colder on the top of a high mountain than on sea level (ignoring the wind)?

Now, digging down deep into my met classes back when I was a young man...

Generally speaking the lower part of the atmosphere cools with altitude at what is called the adiabatic cooling rate which is a direct application of Boyle's Law.  BTW, I think, if I remember correctly, that this is about 5^oC per thousand feet.  In other words if you take a sample of air at sea level and raise it up to the altitude of the top of your mountain, the reduction in temperature caused by the expansion of the gas (lower pressure due to there being less air above you "pressing" down under the force of gravity) will reflect that observed at the mountain top.  Obviously there are a whole lot of local effects that determine what the actual temperature is on any given day, but overall, when averaged out, this is how the atmosphere behaves - at least in the lower part, the troposphere.  Once you get up into the stratosphere, however, the temperature stays the same at around (from memory) minus 60^oC until you begin to reach the upper atmosphere then all bets are off and other, mainly kinetic effects take over and "temperature" is a bit of an academic point, for although the temperature can be very high, there is very little heat in it up there, what with there being so little air around to hold it.

Quote
With the Earth flatter on the poles and thicker at the equator, why doesn't all the water flow "downhill" to the poles?

Because the water is effected by the same force that causes the Earth to be flattened at the poles and the local water surface remains perpendicular to the sum of the two forces, gravity and cetrifugal "force".  Thus there is no "downhill" to flow down.  In a way, this is the same as what happens when you fill a bucket with water and swing it over your head.  Even though gravity is still pulling it down, the centrifugal "force" keeps it in the bucket, as it does all the way around.  If you could conduct this experiment smoothly enough, you would see the water surface tilting from side to side in your bucket, twice for each revolution as the two vectors change relative direction.

Quote
How does a mole find its way and prey?

He buys a street directory, just like everyone else.  Churches are marked so he can find somewhere to pray. 

Sibling Bluenose

Yeah, why don't they just bring back Space Quest?  Roger Wilco is my hero...

The sibling below me only ever eats scallops on Wednesdays

...to see who would be the first to mention Big Ron's enormous...

... jellies, not to mention our cute little...

Dear Brian,

Oi reseeved th' new X3400 Pressure Vessel komplete wiv th' Secret "Patented" Burner this afternoon.  Oi trust ye fownd the treasure chest to yer satisfakshun, Oi must admit it were a bit of a stretch ter fill it up wiv all them 10 carat diamons, black perls and gold bars loike ye spesifyed, but Oi'm shore it be werf it in th' long run ter get the advice o' sumwun as skilled as yerself.

Unfortunately it seems loike a rat got in an ate some of th' instrucshuns, 'coz Oi carnt find anywhere wot tells me wot ter do wiv the bit Oi found in a box marked 'Cyclops Supa Fire Engine Ride On'.  Me cabin boy's eyes lit up wen 'e sore that bit but Oi be tellin 'im it be too danjerus fer the loikes o' 'im.  Oi'm thinkin it be part of the fuel delivvry system fer the burner, but Oi jess carnt make 'ead nor tail o' it.

Eegerlie awaitin yer reply,

Cap'n Bluenose