Wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy in white blankets and wearing a beanie to protect himself from the Townsville University Hospital airconditioning, our waterfront scribe presented a strange apparition. Being called a cold frog by friendly staff nevertheless made him feel a bit of a weirdo, which is not far from the mark.
One night , going through his ablutions in the washroom with the help of a female nurse, he was startled to hear a frog croak from the direction of the toilet bowl. Then it was heard again , again. In Darwin back in the l950s, he often showered in the old tin bank Northern Territory News washroom with an audience of scores of frogs lined up along the shower curtain , on the cistern and ledges , which protested loudly when the toilet was flushed.Pythons dined on the frogs.
Feeling he had become frog fixated at the hospital because the nurses frequently referred to him as a miserable frog, he asked Nurse Nikki if she also had heard a frog croak... Yes . She even seemed prepared to sign a statutory declaration to the fact.
However, the efficient nurse seemed repulsed by the reporter's suggestion she run a gloved finger under the lip of the toilet bowl to dislodge the mysterious swamp dweller. In a further frivolous suggestion, our man declared the frog would be revealed as one with registered nurse credentials . Joining in the madness of the discourse, the nurse said, if that be the case, the frog would be immediately pressed into service as they were short of staff that night and very busy .
Cocking an ear to the toilet, the beached shipping reporter made a forensic examination of the short, sharp croaks. He deduced they could be coming from the arse-end of Donald Trump's Russian built reelection autocue or the Chinese bugged plumbing in the White House West Wing/Wind.
