some days my job is quite rewarding.

my favorite student came to the desk the other day in a modest scarf. and asked if the world was going to end.

I raised an eyebrow and checked to see if he was kidding but the guy was genuine. 

I said “hang on a minute, I’ll check my dairy….. end of the world? nope I don’t have anything like that planned.”

Then he explained that he’d heard that the Mayan’s calendar ended next year and some folks said that this meant the end of the world would happen.

I reassured him this wasn’t the case, it was merely that the Mayan’s had got so far ahead with their calendar that they decided to take a break.

“Besides cultural tastes were changing and people had started to want different things in calendars, something smaller that would hang on a toilet door with a picture of puppies or kittens on it. And it’s one thing to carve a huge stone disk with advanced mathematical calculations on it but it’s much harder to carve three adorable Labrador puppies in a basket….I’m sure how you can understand why any serious mathematician would find that not only difficult but a waste of his time!

And you see you can’t hang a huge stone disk on the back of your toilet door, they tend to tear down your hut wall or worse, fall onto you, trapping you for eternity in a septic tank. So the Mayan’s turned to smaller calendars made of paper, some with scantily clad ladies on them, and these don’t survive over the eons nearly as well.”

“Oh,” he says,” because paper doesn't last as well as stone”

“That and their wives tend to throw them out” I assert while nodding convincingly and thinking he is in on the joke.

Then he asks “are you serious?”…

"Only about the world not ending due to the end of a calendar, if that was the case it would end yearly and everyone using power tools would look like a breaker girl.”

I suspect my workmates hysterical giggling confirmed his suspicion that some of the info I’d given him wasn’t quite right, but he toddled off at least happy the world wouldn’t end. What shocked me was the last comment he made.

“I’m glad because that would mean the Brisbane roar wouldn’t be able to win a third premiership!”

As you can imagine I just had to tell someone ;-)

RE: a strange thing happened to me on my way back from the auditorium.....

Had rather an odd romantic encounter last night, while teaching at Springfeild campus. Teaching always brings out the extrovert in me and so when I got into the lift alone and it spoke to me, a conversation ensued. “Going down” it purred in a sultry female voice I suspect is wasted in a lift. “What?” I replied, “that’s rather forward of you isn’t it? You haven’t even asked where I’m trying to go? Or was that meant to be suggestive? In which case I’m not sure I should push your buttons, I don’t want to lead you on. After all and it could never work between us, me being a Homosapian and you being a lift…. “ The lift sat mute, motionless, ignoring me…. “Your ignoring me now aren’t you, I’ve hurt your feelings….Oh dear, why is it always the unsuitable ones that show an interest. “ Yep she was definitely ignoring me now… not a word “Oh alright then, I’ll gently press the button for the ground floor, but please don’t interpret this as anything untoward… I mean you’re a lovely lift but I’ll admit I’d never thought of trying a meaningful relationship with an inanimate object….” Thankfully the lift now swiftly descended to level one and as I waited for the door to open, I wished the lift a nice night and all the best in its quest for love. Such situations are awkward after all and rejection can be a blow for a lonely lift no one talks too…. The lift seemed encouraged and she said “first floor” in much the same friendly voice she’d started in. The doors opened and the waiting student gave me a WTF??? look that made it clear the lift isn’t soundproof…..oops. I gave the student a cheery smile and added in passing, “Be gentle with her, she’s had rather a rough night!” lol. Must admit as I walked across the car park it was hard not to laugh, the look on the students face was priceless!!!!

a viking hardware?

Was chatting to some freinds today and it was decided to try to visit a sword shop to try to find a gift for one of those hard to shop for lads. There was a sudden flurry of offers from guys wanting to come along. Seems its not just hardware stores that interest guys, the same effect can be got from a shop full of swords, knives, axes and polearms. I commented that it was sort of like a viking hardware and that got me started with an idea!

Olaf the Viking walks up a well trodden pathway into a huge wooden long house painted in green and red. A big sign hangs next to a stylized image of a hammer and reads. “Bustings warehouse, raised villages are just the beginning.”

Inside there is a slogan in runic that reads “We’ll beat any competitor and their offer”

Olaf strides up to a red shirted staff person who tries to look the other way and duck behind a pile of badly sewn otter skins. The Viking’s meaty hand lands on his shoulder before he can disappear.

“Heil staff person. In a bit of a hurry, my longships moored in a “battle maimed” space out front….”

Staffer: “Oh, ok welcome to Bustings, how can I help?”

Olaf: I need two helms, fourteen oars, some war paint in a blue hue and anti chaffing cream for the berserks”

Staffer: “Were those half helms with nasal or would you like some of our new fully padded helms? Straight from the Byzantine Empire and they come with extra thick ear pads…”

Olaf: “Ear pads? What would you want ear pads on a war helm for?”

Staffer: “Well they keep the noise down, perfect for those early morning battles after a heavy night on the mead, very popular with the Varangians you know!”

Olaf: No I don’t like that cheap foreign made stuff, couple of whacks with a broad axe and they fall apart like a Slavic counter attack. I just want a couple of stout Norwegian helms.”

Staffer: “Those are in Isle twelve just look for the rune stone with the number on it at the end of the isle. They’re next to the bore spears with the rest of the voyaging gear.”

Olaf: “Boar spears are in the voyaging gear? You get a lot of boars on board your ships?”

Staffer: “no not boars, as in pigs, but bores. You know those whiney mongrels who get seasick and go on and on about how much they miss their wife on a long voyage, or someone else’s wife, if you know what I mean…. Every longships got one and these spears are perfect for the job. A quick stab on the dogstar watch and heave em over the side…just the trick! Happy voyaging is just stab and splash away!”

Olaf: “hmm, might come in handy now that you mention it. Oh yeah, nearly forgot. Thorfin bloodrage wants a new axe, what types do you have?

Staffer: We have a wide range in isle three from the full Danish war axe to the simple one handed multi purpose tool. What type does he favour? Bearded?

Olaf: “no he likes em like his women…. no beards!”

Staffer: “Defiantly not the Lombard two hander then, just try isle three past the loadstones.”

Olaf: where? I can never find a damn thing in these places. And you redshirts are few and far between.

Staffer ”It’s the plagues sir, hard to find and keep good staff. Half my team’s off with a rash that spreads faster than a Saxon nunnery with a bad case of comitatus and I’m trying to manage the voyaging and sacrificial sections all on my own. “

Olaf glares at him unsympathetically and he sighs.

Staffer: “well I guess it’s not your problem is it? Fair enough. Just grab what you want and then if you take your order to the traders desk you can take advantage of our new 30 day pillaging offer”

Olaf: “Hmm, how does that work?”

Staffer: “well you open an account, get the goods now, and have 30 days to settle your account. But if we catch you again later before you’ve paid, we stab you and throw you into a pit of vipers”

Olaf: “no I’m setting up to trade, so I’ll just pay in coin and slaves.”

Staffer: “Fair enough, but feel free to enjoy the charitable meat roasting by the door (its to support the local under 8’s sheildwall team) or attend one of our DIY sessions. Todays “Destroy it yourself” seminar is on Frankish fortifications. Tricky little forts those, but with the right tools and a bit of professional “know how” they come down like Thor’s wrath when the mead runs out….”

Angus bares all in his quest for love!

Well my torrid affair with a datebot continues. Its english is awful and its courting would make a lustful buffalo blush. But somehow I felt young Angus had finally found someone who didnt mind that he was a ferret (she didnt notice?????) and the least I could do was give him his shot at love..... lol.

"och aye that’s grand! I'm so glad you weren’t put off with me being a ferret and all. I know some ladies just don’t want to be with a 50 cm long carnivorous beastie.
I thought I might match your boldness and send a rather revealing photo. One I call “Angus au natural” (if you get my swish of a slinky tail ;-)
Haven’t sent this one to anyone before, and admit I feel a little bashful, but fairs fair, I've seen your … well pretty much everything really. Unless you have X-ray equipment or start vomiting I cant image there is much of you left to reveal. So I guess I'd better catch up. Kilt off as they say. Hope you like my intimate picture.
I'm told plane travel is rather straightforward. For people at least.

If you want, as you quaintly put it, to “know how to plane come to you master” I can explain the process.

You walk up into the large metal objects with wings attached and they fly. Cardinal points are to get a ticket, pick a location and remember to catch the plane.
Of course its much harder as a ferret. Seems there is some rule that says you have to be locked in a cat box to go into an airport. While its flattering to be treated like a creature who can kill with a paw and rend flesh at will, in short, a small fluffy dynamo of destruction, it makes plane travel bothersome. On my last trip I tried to explain to the stewardess that I wasn’t a vorpal rabbit and really didnt need to be confined for the survival of the other passengers. I mean I'm not wearing a Hannibal Lector mask and I'm not even the same species as Chuck Norris!
She was quite pretty and I'll admit curvaceous, as was distinctly apparent as she bent over my cage.
"Your so adorable!"she smiled.
"Yeah thanks, your pretty sweet yourself miss, but I’m also a paying customer and cant help but notice I’m in a cage and bipeds out there are in comfortable chairs near oxygen masks and there’s a lady with a trolley serving drinks. I'm thinking I’d be more comfortable over there in a chair with a small scotch and dry, and a straw.”

“Oh you are the sweetest little thing, you want out do you. I'm sorry, animals have to stay in their transporters at all times” she said waving her finger like I was a cheeky puppy or something.

“Well technically I would still be in my transporter, I'm in a plane right? The plane is transporting me. I mean this cage isn’t moving by itself. I'd just rather be over there with an in flight movie and a drink rather than in this small dark box with, what is this? Straw?”

“Oh are you trying to talk to me? Yes you are aren’t you?”

“what? Of course I am... what? Oh damn, I'm a bloody ferret, (facepaw) of course your just hearing small high pitched squeaking noises right? I keep forgetting I can type but I can nae speak in a way that people understand. Oh this is frustrating.... can I have my laptop please? Its the white Apple MacBook in that bag over there? I'll bring up Word or IM you!”

Of course she didn’t understand any of it.

“Now you just settle down, your getting all excited. You'll feel better when we land. Here I'll put this little cover over your transporter and you can go to sleep for a while.”

“Lady dont even joke about putting me to sleep, thats not funny”

Blackness covered my cage (transporter be damned!)

Happy when I land? I could have been happy right then!

In a chair, with a drink, watching Americans blow things up with special effects and a tardy attempt at a storyline. Not sitting next door to a friggin cat that snores out of tune. I was stranded in a dark box, offline and without a good book to read.

In all it was a good thing I was only going to Sydney!

As a rule now, I don’t fly. I mean fair enough, ferrets aren’t supposed to fly. As they say “Eagles may soar, but ferrets don’t get sucked into jet engines.” When people make up sayings about you you've got to take the hint. I'm convinced that mr murphy (and his law) are real and that the reaper is has a thing for irony. I'd prefer not to risk it.

Though the way Qantas is going death from a jet engine cant be ruled out if your under a flight route anywhere.

Are you sure your ready to fly over? I mean I don’t want to sound prudish but we don’t know a thing about each other. I'm not sure we should rush into this too fast. Its not a rabbit burrow after all.

But since things are going so well, maybe we should get down to deeper questions about life (I mean we've skipped the shallow stuff like name, interests, likes, dislikes, two legs, four fingers, tail?)

I was hoping you could answer a deeply personal question for me. I'll understand if you wont, I mean I don't want to pry..... but do you play the bagpipes, and do you like cheese? ;-)

Your furry friend

Angus.

Angus the kilted ferret goes online dating

Dating at the best of times is fraught with peril, but online dating certainly put a new twist on it. Suddenly a person can be just about anything. And some are prone to exaggeration or outright falsehoods.
And some are dating bots that spew out automated responses to incoming messages, based on what they assume the prey wants to hear. I was chatting to one recently. It quickly became apparent that the responses bore no relation to my correspondence, that the original author was in another country and didn’t know hair (as in Hair dresser) is spelt differently to the long eared rabbit like creatures known as Hares. And must admit on realising it was a computer I was a little disappointed, but quickly came to realise that poor computer could well be lonely. So I wrote it out a reply, and Angus, the kilted Ferret went seeking a companion online...........

Um, now I’m sure your not reading my emails. Which is disappointing as I’ve always found a conversation works best when it involves meaningful two way communication instead of just one person describing their privates and their potential uses ;-) I’m also a bit surprised you don’t seem to want to know anything about me before pledging your undying….well it wasn’t exactly love, was it.

I mean for all you know I could be an anthropomorphic ferret named Angus who has learnt to type online? And life with a ferret may not be your thing? (Though I find being a ferret has its advantages. You can chase your tail and catch it! I think it has something to do with an extra long and flexible torso!)

But imagine the downsides, my idea of fun might be having you roll a little ball with some bells in it around my room so I can pounce on it. Fun for me, but it may not be satisfying to you.

They don’t eat ferrets in your country do they? I’m not one to stereotype someone based on their culture or ethnicity (I mean as a ferret I’d be the last one to point the paw) but I’ve heard that in some countries they eat kittens and chow down on dogs. I’d hate to end up in Singapore noodles while my lifeless pelt gets used as a furry G string.

Is there a lot of call for hare dressers in your country? Over here we mostly have European brown hare, and few of them wear clothes (probably because they have no one to dress them???) You’d have great job prospects here if it caught on!

Obviously the hare’s in your country have a better sense of fashion.

Not that I’m against introduced species wearing clothes, been known to sport boardshorts on occasion, but I can get into them myself ( I have really dexterous paws ;-) But it sure is hard getting shorts to fit through when your only 50cm’s long. I used to don a dark green checked handkerchief which I wore as a kilt, and thought looked rather fetching, but some mongrel kid thought it was a dress and laughed at me. “Look mommy, that rats wearing a dress!” she said. Of course I bit her, and she cried, but after that I did feel rather silly. I mean a bloodstained highland ferret might feel butch, but when people think you look like a savage girly mink (or worse a rat) its tough on your self image.

Oh and by the way when your not offering yourself online to anyone who can string together a sentence, what do you enjoy doing? I don’t suppose you really enjoy rolling small tinkling bells around on hardwood floors? I mean its just not as much fun on your own. Not to mention it sounds perverted when you say “I’m just off home to play with my balls.” Much better to be able to say, “I’m just off home to have a pretty lady play with my balls.” Actually that still sounds a bit perverted, but I guess your broad minded given your photo and rather explicit email. I hope you don’t mind me commenting on your mind, (after all its just about the only part of yourself that wasn’t bared in your photo’s,) and I’m assuming a shrinking violet wouldn’t tend to send naked pictures to someone before they have established rapport enough to know their name. I’ll admit, I don’t hold up much hope for us, apart from the disturbing trend of you not reading my messages and misleading me about your geographical residence, I’m uncomfortable with your choice of footwear. I mean stiletto heels are a real hazard to ferrets and while no self respecting chap likes to be walked on, accidents can happen and having sharpened steel spikes driven through you can be fatal. My preference is to survive cohabitation with a woman. That is of course assuming you’re a woman at all. Your email read more like a blow by blow account of a blue movie and was rather devoid of personality or a sense of who you were. Could it be….. are you a ferret too?

Yours sincerely, Angus

phone rant

Phones, those handy little devices that connect our ears to the multitude voices of humanity. Or at least used to. Nowadays it would seem the phones function has fundamentally changed. Nowadays they connect us to pre-recorded messages where we are told how important our call is to whatever agency or company is currently not answering it. Or allow telemarketers to peddle their wares to us while our dinner cools and our minds seek new and interesting ways to return the favour and cause mayhem. For some handing the phone to a toddler is the key, to others the phrase “oh hang one you need to talk to the owner, I’ll just get him….” Precedes a wait that matches the patience of the telepest on the other end of the line.

Personally I’m rather over phones. Even the modern ones that make lightsaber noises and allow you to engage in a digital parody of sport. To me they are simply a tool and like all tools open to misuse. At least they are in my hands ;-)

For I have a rule regarding phones. When I ring a company needing to speak to a person and get placed on hold the chances of them getting a mischievous or cheeky response is directly proportional to the length of time I have to spend on hold listening to how important my call is to them.

I mean my call may be “important” to them but to me its just the medium I’m using to initiate a conversation. To me the message was important, not the call. I’m a little disturbed that they sit listening to the dulcet ringing tones of their phone rather that answering it. I mean I’m an open minded sort of chap and if their idea of fun is to sit in an office full of ringing phones and that makes them feel special, all power to them. But I just wanted to talk to someone. So if their audio fetish results in me irradiating my head with a mobile or cupping my ear with some plastic appendage for long enough that there’s a danger my skin will grow over it, I have a tendency to play up. After all, those are precious moments of my life that I won’t get back and which normally gave me no satisfaction or amusement at all. And I, like nature abhor a vacuum ;-) So when they finally answer I sometimes feel the need to redress the balance and have a little fun.

Just the other day I was calling tech support to try to get a downed system fixed. After a lengthy wait I got a slightly disinterested tech start his phone spiel with “Can I have your name please.”

“Only if I can have yours. In fact , that’s a great idea, lets swap! I’ve always wondered what its like to be Simon. You can have my identity and I’ll have yours, now I’ll start; are you having a tech problem you need my help with?”

Poor guy wasn’t ready for that “um, hangon you called me”

“true but if your going to be me and me you, then you should tell me your tech issue and I’ll log it and ignore it.”

Took the poor tech a few moments to get his head around that.

Our tech support now knows me pretty well. Its funny how easily you can make an impression. I remember one lass on deciding she should remote into my computer asked “is there anything private on the screen you’d like to close?”

There wasn’t, so I simply replied “nope just some softcore pornography and the schematics of a Kevorkian machine I’m building for my staff. It irradiates your brain to mush while your on hold.”

It was then I discovered that I have a bit of a reputation for phone banter. Despite being new to the tech support office this lass responded immediately with “oh your that Max” and proceeded to mention how my porpoises rant had been played at the last tech support Christmas party. Apparently it had been a huge hit!

I’d been listening to the “your call may be recorded for training purposes” for far too long one day so when I finally got a person he was greeted with

“Hey now listen here, I want to talk about this training porpoises thing your company’s doing. Its unethical you know. I mean off shoring jobs is is one thing but its going too far when you start training aquatic sea mammals! Porpoises are highly intelligent, social animals and putting them in call centres is just plain cruel! Did you know the wild porpoise spends about a third of its time sleeping, a third getting food and the rest of its time playing, swimming and having sex. You can’t tell me your working conditions are anywhere near as favourable as that!”

The poor tech confided that they weren’t, that he was lucky to get a lunch break most days and then went on to explain it was training purposes, not porpoises. He forgot to mention that a particularly amusing rant might also be used for general amusement at annual Christmas parties. But hey, why not share the joy eh? And this chap at least had a sense of humour. So many folks just don’t catch on!

Take my local council for example. They delight in sending me letters about a dog that hasn’t lived at my house for years. I’ve spoken to them on the phone, written to them and even filled in the forms to tell them that the dog and its owner moved but still I get letters asking me to renew its rego. And believe me calling them involves a wait Rip Van Winkle would resent. So after explaining again how the dog was no longer there I decided to raise another issue.

“hey while I’ve got you I wanted to ask something. I was recently ridding my motorbike on Garfield road and a dog ran out in front of my bike. The bike was written off, the dog died and I’ve just come out of hospital after two lots of surgery to repair a smashed knee. Now the dog failed to give way, in fact I’d go so far as to say it showed no knowledge of the road rules at all, and since council issued its licence I’d like to know what legal liability your willing to accept.”

That threw her, but her hastily summoned manager was a little quicker on the uptake after I’d asked him the same thing. There was a long pause then he said

“your having me on right?”

I agreed and explained that this was what I did when I got bored waiting for someone to answer my call.

He commented that he was glad not all his customers were like that and I suggested that maybe the alternative was to answer the phone, promptly.

Sometimes though a phone can bite back!

I recently attended a staff forum where every employee is sent into a large room for an info dump that lasts longer than the proverbial zen piece of string with only one end. Through a strange combination of following advice to put my phone on vibrate (for the first and last time) and having read the night before a news article on testicle biting ferrets, I found myself suddenly subjected to a movement in my pants.

Somewhere in my troubled mind the recognition of a n incoming call was supplanted by the idea of an angry carnivorous diomorph in the vicinity of my private parts. This resulted in a shriek and corresponding sideways leap that covered about four foot.

Suddenly all eyes were on me and I struggled with the voices in my head to find a suitable explanation for my rather unseemly behaviour.

Something just moved in my pants? (um no.)

I thought a furry bandit was about to make off with my family jewels (no, that’s worse)

I just got a call and thought nature was involved….(defiantly not!)

So as the eyes of my professional colleagues watching me awkwardly struggle for words (possibly a first) I went for an hones but emphatic truth.

“It’s a phone! And its driving me nuts!”



Putty road and the slow the F$%#K down wombat.

I recently had the good fortune to take some time off work and ride my motorcycle across some of the best scenery and roads in Australia’s east coast. Had a blast and many memorable experiences, but I must admit, I think my favorite will be the strange and bizarre road signs I saw.
Amongst the road side “tutt tutting” of the modern nanny state with its road safety obsession, “don’t smoke” barrage and constant roadwork’s, there were some standout classics. Like the Victorian nanny state’s advice to tired drivers.
“Sore eyes? powernap now.”
Subliminally, I’d say that’s rather a dubious piece of advice to someone driving a motor vehicle at high speed. I had visions of people simply doing what they were told and having to navigate my way through piles of wrecked cars and copulating Winnebago’s. I actually stopped to see if there was anything on the sign that said it was sponsored by the local auto wrecker. But nope, this entertaining piece of suicidal advice was from Vicroads.
Another that caught my fancy was situated on a perfect road though a lovely stretch of rural sheep country. Someone had tied an old “for sale” sign to a gum tree, and written on the back of it in big letters
“Lost Kelpie, phone ########”
I’ll admit, I saw a funny side to that. Thought to myself, “I knew kelpies were smart, their smart in Queensland. Probably smart enough to read, but in Victoria they’re carrying mobile phones!”
Had visions of a farmer in his driazabone and akubra sending his kelpie out to herd sheep.
“Get around Shep” he’d call “It’s a long way fella, better take your mobile.”
And the lost, but loyal dogs relief when he finally saw the sign. A quick doggie dial and its
“G’day dad? Its Shep! I’m at the sign. Get the Ute!” lol
Modern technology eh, isn’t it great…. 
But the most thought provoking campaign of road side doomsaying was on the approach to the puty road.
If you don’t know the Putty road its 150 kilometers of sometimes narrow and winding road between the mountains of two national parks. Its described as one of the best roads to ride in Australia and imho deserves the reputation. Its fantastic. But needless to say the government has noticed that the road can lead some folks to overestimate their prowess and end up in a tangled mess of broken machine and bleeding person. So they were particularly keen that we all knew the dangers that lie ahead.
“Winding road ahead” a sign warned (enticingly ;-) “Road slippery when wet” “High crash zone” and the lovely pictorial cartoon shapes of bikes and cars sliding helplessly to their doom. It started off with the mild ones and worked up to “Speeding motorists die” I half expected to see one after that that said “Ahead there be dragons, for gods sake turn back!”
But no, the next one was in a rest stop and showed the basics of how to take a corner on a motorbike so as to not overshot the corner and run headfirst into an oncoming car. Without being graphic it was fairly convincing that running headfirst was in a car was a bad thing.
Overall it seemed to take the approach of “Well if you haven’t stopped yet you probably aren’t going to so you better know this!”
I wasn’t planning to set any land speed records. I was ridding a bike from last century (1997) carrying a swag, bulging saddle bags, and had a lot further to go today. So a high speed entrance into the scenery (however lovely,) really didn’t suit my plans.
Instead I was planning to take it with gentle enthusiasm.
Enjoy it, but leave enough room to cope if I misjudged a corner, or there happened to be a rock slide, speeding car or exotic fauna behind that next blind corner. At least slow enough to have a hope of getting around it.
I call this my hedonist approach to ridding motorcycles. Have fun, but try to survive the experience so you can continue to do so in the future.
So needless to say the road signs were more a source of amusement than anything else. Till I saw one that really slowed me down.
It was an animal sign.
In Australia we post small signs on the side of the road to let motorist know what local animals are most likely to try to kill you in the near future.
This may be sheep, cows, the ever popular kangaroo, or something truly exotic. Such as an echidna, deer, saltwater crocodile, or koala. Even if the animals small and fairly harmless they warn you.
I’m not sure if its so sick people can play “road safari hunter” in their cars or to support a mysterious road kill appreciation society. But either way if you pay attention you can normally recognize most of the smeared and flattened meat messes on the side of the road. But this particular animal sign really got my attention.
It showed a wombat.
Natures answer to a bulldozer. A dense muscular form that looks like a small thick tree log has grown four stumpy legs and has been fur upholstered. They are approximately one meter in length when fully grown and I’m told weigh in at roughly 35 kilos. They also have a think protective shield of cartilage that they turn on attackers that is almost impervious to harm.
I’m reliably told colliding with a wombat is like crashing into a tree stump. A tree stump with a butt shield!
They destroy cars, and there are many stories of trucks coming off second best from hitting one! And in these stories the wombat normally scurries off unharmed.
A wombat is like a medium sized scurrying boulder. Hit one, and your going to know it.
I slowed down a little and really kept my eyes open.
I’ve read somewhere they can reach 40 k an hour and a bloke in Victoria was mauled by one. Wombats are a hard core Australian road hazard.
But by the time I reached the other end of the road it occurred to me. Wombats are also quite rare.
Some are endangered and most people who have ever seen one have done so in a zoo. You just don’t see wild wombats. Ever
So I wondered at the sign. I thought maybe road safety association had hired a country bloke with the sort of humor that occurs in the areas I grew up. He’d have sat back at the meeting and gone “well if you really want to slow people down put in a wombat sign. I know I’d slow the f@#k down!”
Thus despite their endangered status the wombat could make a noble contribution to reducing the road toll.
America has smokey the bear, we’d have our “slow the f@#k down wombat.”
And it worked, I’d slowed down. I’d ridden carefully and precisely and kept my concentration on the task.
I’d been alert for scurrying tumbleweeds of solid mass and had got through safely.
A number of times on the ride I thought of “slow the f@#k down wombat.” A number of times when I was tempted to nudge the needle above the mandatory speed limit I had little images of a wombat looking stern and pointing at his butt. I’d chuckle and back off. It never failed to bring a smile to my face, the feeling that I’d been part of a delightful bit of clever manipulation. Someone had played a very cunning, very clever joke on me and I could see the funny side.
At least till on the return trip when I happened to see on the side of the road….
A dead wombat!

Holy crap people, the little beggars are real!!!!!!!!