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The No T$ No B$ Thread


Redleg

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Most civilised away from the riff raff that inhabit the MCG these days.

I could handle a little of that myself at present.

I can assure you that the going hasn't been all that easy since we left Adelaide.

We were on the high seas and out of communication with the rest of the world for almost 48 hours as the ship headed first south and then in an easterly direction across the treacherous Bass Strait. Our own independent investigation into the tanking affair was seemingly over, so Redleg and I reconciled ourselves about the events of the past two days by visiting the upper deck where we sat by the swimming pool sipping on banana daiquiris admiring the young Brazilian guests in their skimpy swimsuits. It was a hard life ... until the seas became angry and we had to go below decks.

Redleg noticed the envelope first. It had been slipped under his stateroom door and contained a not too subtle message,

"Here is an invitation you've been waiting for - an opportunity to meet and listen to the one and the only Dean Bailey this evening at 7.00 pm. Starlight Room, 5th deck."

I received a similar note under my door and we spent most of the afternoon discussing this new and intriguing development. It was clear that while we were back in the city of churches, Bailey had been avoiding us but here, on the high seas out of the world's gaze and with not a reporter or AFL official in sight, he was willing to talk.

Would he spill the beans on the long running scandal or were the events of 2009 as stale as the snapper we had consumed in the Demetriou family fish and chip shop we visited before the start of our investigation?

We wore the obligatory dinner suits (we thought they would act as an effective disguise) and made it to the Starlight Room at exactly 7.00pm but noticed that quite a crowd had gathered inside. They were listing to an American crooner playing songs on a grand piano.

"I get my kicks from champagne ..."

Bailey was nowhere to be seen and we became really worried when we realised that we were back on eastern standard daylight savings time and hadn't reset our watches. It was really 7.35pm and it suddenly dawned upon us that we had missed our assignation.

"I get a kick ... yes I get a kick outa ... you ... "

The entertainment director came out onto the stage and announced,

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for a wonderful performance for the velvet voice of grammy award winner, Dean Bailey, tonight's act direct from Chicago in the US of A."

So he wasn't "the one and the only Dean Bailey" after all and we had reached yet another dead end. As we trudged out of the Starlight Room in disappointment we noticed a sign advertising tomorrow's main activity. Accompanying a photograph of an extremely obese man was the topic of his lecture:

"Phil's fabulous fifty bananas a day diet".

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hows the old farts cruise going redleg?

wearing dinner suits to meals?

Been wearing banana coloured polo tops. Getting many admiring glances from the ladies.

Shocking news for morabito. Going to be hard for him.

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Been wearing banana coloured polo tops. Getting many admiring glances from the ladies.

Shocking news for morabito. Going to be hard for him.

funny you should say that i'm sitting here typing with my Rivers banana coloured polo shirt on

spooky huh?

you guys must be the only people actually heading TO tassie at the moment

Yes, really tough for morabito...might be the end for him but i hope not

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Been wearing banana coloured polo tops. Getting many admiring glances from the ladies.

If you saw the ladies who are giving RL the many "admiring glances" then you might see it in its proper context.

They define the meaning of 85 year old cougars.

Even more ridiculous is the stuff I'm reading from our local rags about the tanking inquisition. It's gone from the sublime to the absolute ridiculous. The stuff I'm writing from the ship is far closer to reality than some of the carp this Pierik guy is writing about although I'm almost certain that he reads Demonland posts before he puts pen to paper.

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Well I am here in Hobart and the locals tell me that there was no tanking; we were just no bloody good.

They know their footy.

and they know it twice as well as most !!
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Next you will tell me they see you coming and going.

tish -boom !! :)
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Have just rediscovered the Pine Lime Sunnyboy, very nice way to cut through the sweltering summer heat here in Canberra. Highly underrated the old Sunnyboy ice block. Would gladly forgo a banana or 2 for one in this Canberra heat wave

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Have just rediscovered the Pine Lime Sunnyboy, very nice way to cut through the sweltering summer heat here in Canberra. Highly underrated the old Sunnyboy ice block. Would gladly forgo a banana or 2 for one in this Canberra heat wave

I was a bit of a 'razz' man myself, back in the day .

Those triangular shaped globules were a sight for sore eyes on sweltering days

Occasionally the 'glug' would be purchased (or not purchased) but more often than not it disappointed ...

Edited by Macca
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Had a banana foster for dessert tonight with cherry Garcia ice cream. I can't work out why my pants feel tight.

Yesterday my Doctor told me to watch my drinking, so I am off to find a bar with a mirror.

Redleg might well be acting dumb but we've been working hard in Hobart today to try to solve the conundrum of the tanking story. We are about to sail off into the wide blue yonder in the direction of Sydney but, below I set out my diary of today's events as they unfolded in Tasmania's capital city:-

It was our last day here and we went on an excursion to the MONA (Museum of Old and New Art) which is about 20 minutes out of old Hobart town.

Unlike Redleg who fortified himself for the ordeal the night before with a concoction made from bananas called a "banana foster", I had to be taken there at gunpoint by she who must be obeyed. I mean, the MFC is currently under siege and our wives are taking us on a tour of an art gallery? Let's get real, please!

We took the ferry up the Derwent River and passed the Cadbury Chocolate Factory. There have been rumours that the company intends to come on board as a sponsor of the MFC and I have no problems with that proposition. In fact, I tried to arrange a meeting with executives of the plant to convince them that we Demons are a solid upstanding bunch of decent human beings and had nothing to do with the alleged match fixing they might have been reading about in those funny Victorian newspapers but the execs wanted nothing to do with us so the next stop was MONA.

Now, both Redleg and I are anarcho-primitive philistines who have no place in a modern art gallery and we were soon bored witless by the wild mix of antiquities, modern and contemporary art and audio-visual displays which (as far as I was concerned anyway) were all a load of carp - literally. Anyone who has been within smelling distance of Cloaca Professional, a machine which turns food into excrement would attest to this.

And after queuing up for half an hour to get into the death room, which wasn't nearly as confronting as we expected, Redleg and I were already working out an exit strategy.

Then a strange thing happened. We passed by Sydney Nolan's Snake and found ourselves in an alcove where a green button on the wall invited me to press hard once, upon which I started hearing voices through the speakers. One of the voices was familiar - it was Dean Bailey.

"OK. Nathan Brown's a bit of a worry. Who have we got left to put on him?"

Then, I heard another voice coming out of the ether.

"Try PJ on him. He's got the pace and the agility and if you move Ricky up forward, he might just get a goal to put you in front".

At first, I froze when I realised to whose voice those words belonged but I quickly gathered my wits, pushed my way beyond a screen and grabbed the cassette from a console and placed it in my back pack. Then, I ran up two or three flights of stairs with my chest heaving pushing past crowds and shocked attendants. I hailed a cab and within a quarter of an hour was back on the ship where I played the tape through in its entirety.

It was in fact the missing audio from the the Jordan McMahon game and I had my proof that there was no tanking. This was all the evidence that was needed to put an end to the sham of a farce that would surely now become the great AFL tanking fiasco of 2009. I had no doubt about the identity of the other voice - the one who was advising Bailey during that frenetic final quarter against Richmond and provided him with all of those brilliant moves that all but won the game against the Tigers. His voice was distinctive, his initials were A.D!

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Enjoy your holiday and stop posting guys. What is wrong with you two?
Stop posting at such a momentous time in the history of our club and the game?

We have work to do in Sydney and neither of us will rest until the club is vindicated and we can drink our banana smoothies once again without looking over our shoulders.

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have to start referring to you two as B1 and B2 !!! ^_^

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Hate to put holes in a great story...but cassette tape? Someone should inform that floating Island,the mainland has gone digital.

Surveillance cameras were tapered with by your offsider no doubt,as you would knocking us off the headlines. Man seen tapering with and stealing from art gallery.But with no video evidence of the forementioned heist,you may rest easy on the good ship lollipop.

May I also suggest if you are Sydney bound, check the "Rocks" DB is between a rock and a hard place atm.

Edited by Deevoted
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This is Tassie we're talking about ^_^

( love the Isle btw )

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