SIHIP HOUSES GO WALKABOUT

It is a classic - but puzzling- case of now you see them, now you don’t. Residents of a settlement down Elliott way are scratching their heads over the mysterious disappearance of two brand new demountable houses. Seems the dwellings, said to be part of the troubled $672million SIHIP , were due to be on site by a contracted date.

They were trucked down from Darwin, set up on the sites for inspection, passed muster , and were apparently ticked off as real progress . Soon after , they were unbolted and trucked back to Darwin to be properly fitted out .

HOSPITAL INFECTION SHOCK HORROR

No doubt the Royal Darwin Hospital valiantly attempts to keep golden staph and other super bugs from thriving within its walls. However, just outside the main entrance -at the two Telstra telephone booths- there appears to be an incubator for breeding nasties.


Little Darwin recently had cause to wait outside the hospital for a person visiting a patient and peeked inside the telephone cubicles . Yuk! It was not a pretty sight. There were blobs of black matter and streaks on the wall, which looked as if they had been there for many a day. Handpieces looked greasy, and there was green slime on the ground.

We were reminded of the frightening old ditty on grotty toilet doors which read : It’s no use standing on the toilet seat-our crabs can jump 40 feet! Those phones are used extensively, many people sit on the ground nearby and patients, some barefooted , stroll about .

One elderly man sat nearby wearing a face mask. We don’t know if he was worried about an outbreak of swine flu or protecting himself from possible Telstra contamination. The person responsible for germ warfare at the hospital should don a space suit and,armed with a flame-thrower and disinfectant, inspect the ring alongs and surrounds at the front door.

NAUTICAL SOLUTION TO DARWIN BLACKOUTS ; TORPEDO UP THE STERN ! !

Little Darwin has the obvious answer to the recurring blackouts infuriating the Top End. It is the brilliant White Hunter solution, dimissed out of hand when first suggested. Following Cyclone Tracy , Darwin was beset with frequent black outs.

During the hearing of charges against people involved in importing a large amount of marijuana from Asia aboard the vessel Marianna the power went on and off. The exasperated judge made some remark suggesting everybody should just sit there glaring at each other in the hope that the power would come back on .

When the former Brisbane ALP Lord Mayor ,Clem Jones, the man who eradicated Brisbane’s dunny cans, became involved in Darwin’s rebuilding , he was puzzled and irritated by the frequency of the power cuts , there being no apparent reason for them. One day, about to enter the lift at the Travelodge, everything went dark as the lights went out. Infuriated, Clem, a man of action , jumped in a car, grabbed the surprised head of the Department of Works , and drove down to the power house , intent on lifting the lid on this sorry state of affairs.

Why has the power gone off ? Clem demanded. The Works and Jerks bod , an old Darwin hand , told him the generators had stopped working. Why? Clem, a trouble making southerner, insisted to know.

Happens every year – it’s the wet - was the answer . This was not good enough for Clem , he came away muttering about the way important utilities were run in Darwin and the attitude of people responsible for the services. Unfortunately, Clem’s power pack died years ago so he cannot come back and help re-boot the Territory’s power supply and its executives.

Therefore, Little Darwin declares the only real course of action to solve the power problem is to invoke the unusual solution proposed by the late Allan Stewart, known as the White Hunter. During the post Cyclone Tracy debate in the NT Legislative Assembly about the vexing power failures , politically minded Allan jumped up in the public gallery and shouted out the debate was hot air. The obvious solution: BRING A SUBMARINE INTO PORT AND RUN AN EXTENSION CORD FROM IT TO THE POWER HOUSE AND KEEP THE CURRENT FLOWING INTO THE CITY.

The Speaker of the House was not impressed by this first example of Territory lateral thinking on a large scale, so Allan limped out and left Darwin groping in the dark.


Seriously, with talk of putting noisy Collins class submarines up on dry land because of many problems, why not bring one overland on the Ghan from Adelaide , stick it in the hard , and use its massive generator to back up our dubious network. Sailors would be assured of a warm welcome as far south as Katherine . Of course, with wash aways along the railway line, care would have to be taken to prevent a submarine from falling off into the water and springing a leak.

GIANT KILLER BEES IN TERRITORY ! HANKY PANKY ON CASUARINA BUS

Regular readers of Little Darwin will recall our recent post lampooning gullible Americans for their hysteria over the media beat up claiming giant killer bees were heading north of the Mexican border. In our piece we tied in the fact that a web had claimed a “swarm ”( a term normally applied to bees ) of plovers, birds, had attacked Minister Rob Knight near the parliament building.

Well, this writer was travelling on a bus when the biggest bee he has ever seen started angrily bumping up and down the window, trying to escape. Sitting in front of me were two young tourists, possibly Germans, studying a guide to Darwin. From time to time , the steroid stuffed bee came dangerously close to the woman’s bare shoulder, unbeknown to her.

With my claw, I tried to flick the bee away , wanting to prevent a nasty experience for overseas tourists in Darwin town. Luckily, the girl did not see my paw near her neck , otherwise she may have thought I was a furtive, arthritic groper and screamed for the transport police.

With honourable intent, I took the snotty handkerchief from my pocket and grabbed the angry bee, not far from her ear. The passenger behind me who looked glassy eyed when I first sat down,soon after sneezing all over me, started mumbling. I suspect he has things buzzing about in his head and objected to me grabbing one of his pet, errant neurons.

Sitting there with the crazed, Turkish wrestler- sized bee in my hanky, I tried to look nonchalant . When the bus finally came to a stop, I jumped up and violently shook the hanky so the bee could escape. Passengers probably thought I was a grey haired weirdo waving at Old Father Time. Only the Thunderbirds know the things I do for international rescue.

TERRITORY POLITICIAN WRITING BOOK

Former Territory politician Roger Steele is writing his memoirs. As a young boy, Roger lobbed in Darwin from Tasmania in l948 with his father who was in the army. After decades working as a cow puncher and stock inspector , Steele sold insurance and got into politics. As Member for Elsey and Ludmilla he held several ministerial posts. With his love of the bush, its ballads and its many characters , some salt of the earth, one in particular an evil old bugger, it should be a great read.

It is to be hoped he includes colourful and humorous insights into Territory politics . Alas, much of what has been written about Territory politics has been dreary, dull and academic , which is unfortunate because there is a rich lode to be mined.

If Roger is looking for graphics for his book, Little Darwin might be able to dig out a scurrilous poster from our mouldy files which sported pics of our then political leaders urging voters to get rid of certain PESTS in the Territory , identified as Perron, Everingham , Steele and Tuxworth , the first letter of each conveniently spelling PEST . It is understood the p erson responsible for the poster , stuck up all over Darwin, later rushed about and pulled them down after receipt of legal advice. It was a fishy situation in more ways than one and could be the subject of a whole chapter in the book .

Incidently, when we Googled Roger Steele up came a person with more than 600,000 listings . It was , however, for a Kiwi book publisher of the same name. If the Territory's Roger Steele sells as many copies of his book as the publisher has listings, he'll be able to buy Elsey Station with the royalties.

DOUBLE THE POLITICAL BETTING

Apparently unnoticed by many in the media was the prediction by political commentator , Malcolm Mackerass , in the Weekend Australian of January 16-17 ,of a double dissolution election .

While stomping about the nation last week on his way to Darwin to officially open the Royal Darwin Hospital oncology unit, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd gave what were seen as election campaign speeches - but then this is the year of living electioneeringly / dangerously throughout the nation and anything the PM says has to be regarded in that context.

In Darwin he deftly flattered the NT News by saying it was the most read newspaper in his office. ( When federal parliament resumes, bet the Opposition says Australia is going to the crocs, not the dogs ,under the Rudd regime). Rudd’s praise for the paper must have made the newspaper management cartwheel about the office in jubilation. The News was so pleased with the PM's unsolicited testimonial they responded by running a special front page picture for him of Miss Piggy being devoured by a large crocodile, thus causing thousands of sensitive kiddies and ET to have nightmares and wet their beds.

Unfortunately, our leader used what could be inappropriate language for an oncology unit to say Solomon MHR Damian Hale had been a pain in the butt , urging the unit be established. Why is that every time there is a photo opportunity involving Darwin medical facilities politicians insist on hamming it up. NT Health Minister Kon Vatskalis has worn Easter Bunny ears , jostled with Hale in one episode and spread himself out in the horizontal at the opening of a new operating theatre.

Not to be outdone, PM Rudd allowed himself to be photographed at the oncology unit with his head in a position like that of a gynaecologist going about his important work. He may have been looking for a member of the official government party who disappeared without trace from most of the opening parade and ceremony, apparently having slipped away to Casuarina for cappuccino, a greasy doughnut and a fag.

MISS PINK'S COOL BEAUTY PARLOUR ; OUR SPECIAL NT AUSTRALIA DAY REPORT

Three cars pulled up outside an old tin hut on the outskirts of Alice Springs on Australia Day 1964, the occupants intent on converting part of the hot building into an airconditioned room for its 79 year old resident, the one and only Miss Olive Pink, anthropologist and honorary curator of the Australian Arid Regions Native Flora Reserve. Since 1958 she had lived in the unlined hut which had provided provost guards’ sleeping accommodation in WW11 and measured 20ft by 60ft.


The heat inside the hut exhausted Miss Pink both mentally and physically ; she had been advised by a doctor to go south to a cooler clime.

From those vehicles disgorged four men led by local electrician Reg Harris , his young assistant, surname Mott, master carpenter Sidney Kinsman, and another trademan, Mr Townsend. They ordered Miss Pink outside and in five hours converted part of the hut into an airconditioned room 13ft long by 10ft wide by 7ft high, lined with caneite, into what she dubbed The Harris- Kinsman Iceberg, an iceberg being her idea of heaven.

It came complete with a small picnic electric cooler box , a bright fluorescent light and an entry door for the portiere. The first time she saw the room she said it looked like a beauty parlour. Once the airconditioning was turned on she felt a renewed person. Fiercely independent , she “fought " for a month to at least pay for 11 sheets of caneite and insisted the air conditioner was only on loan. The fluoro light was replaced with a globe because she found it too bright and the cooler box was returned as well .

She wrote that she would always remember Australia Day 1964 because of the two “Dinkum Aussies “ who came to the relief of a third generation Tasmanian “Aussie” when she was at the end of her tether.

About 10 years later , she wrote to Reg Harris saying she was going to return the air conditioner and would replace it with one of her own “ I am more that grateful for the loan of it but feel we all change as we grow older and I feel sure your main interests now are TOURISM and ROTARIANISM . I have no interest in either so, with grateful remembrances – will say farewell .”

The late Reg Harris told this writer he firmly believed Miss Pink brought on her death in 1975 by going into the beauty parlour and turning on the airconditioner during cold weather.