Send in the clowns

Years ago, when kings and queens still ruled, they used to have clowns at their disposal.  The job of the clown was to entertain the royal family, and maybe even entertain the common folk too.

If the clown wasn’t funny or talented enough, he would lose his head.

In modern days, however, there is a new system.  In order for the queen to have any legitimacy in the eyes of the public, she has to reduce herself to the lower level and share a stage with a bunch of clowns.

The Clowns make a mockery of the Queen and everyone wants to see the show because the clowns are going to be there. 

The Queen has no celebrity status if she is not endorsed by these dope-smoking hippies with their silly clown suits and crappy hairstyles.

The truth of the matter is that nowadays the clowns are the rulers – they rule the crowds, they dictate even to the royal family and they have more assets than the British monarchy can ever dream of.  They also have less rules to live by – they pretty much do as they like, and no matter how immoral or inhuman their lifestyle, it is always regarded as cool and trendy. 

The old queen hangs around like a piece of furniture for the Clowns to display.

Oh, and did I mention the silly hats that those red-coated guards wear?  Maybe the queen doesn’t notice the freaks on her stage, because she is used to being surrounded by jokers in clownish costumes like this one:

If I paid someone to guard my life, I’d make sure he could see where he was going, and I’d want to be able to see if he was awake - this bloke is probably sleeping on the job?

RAAF Airshow

A few weekends ago we managed to squeeze all the kids into the car and head of the RAAF air show at Pearce Air base just North of Perth.

As we headed down Gnangara road, the traffic seemed a little slow, but not too bad.  Once we got onto West Swan, however, it was worse than the freeway during rainy weather.  Every man and his dog was heading to the air show.

As we got to the junction with the Great Northern Highway (which in all honesty is not that great…), it was amazing to see that an obese oversized truck was taking up both lanes and crawling in the direction of Bullsbrook – exactly where every man and his dog was also heading. 

How the authorities managed to approve an abnormal vehicle permit on a day like this, only they will know.  What arrogant mining company decided that their next big toy being slithered all the way to the Pilbara is soooo important that even the air show can wait?  For the first time I’m thinking that maybe the Labor government’s Mining Tax is not such a bad idea – surely then Muss Gillahd will pay for a freeway to Bullsbrook and these iron-ore crooks can pay the penalty for holding us back from a great day of entertainment.

After crawling behind an old man who was doing 60 in a 90 zone in Gnangara road, I suddenly realised that I had nothing to complain about back then.

Off course by now the kids were asking “are we there yet?”…

When we got to vicinity of the air show, we could already see planes flying around and helicopters thudding over us.  This was already way cool and I struggled to keep my eyes on the road.  My dad would have loved this – he always swerved around on the road whenever he saw or heard a plane – he loved looking at planes and for brief moments couldn’t care less about where the white line or the road shoulder was.

We were finally showed where to park, and immediately realised that we would have to lock the car’s position in a GPS, otherwise we would never find it in the “mother of all parking lots”.  There were thousands of vehicles parked in straight rows for kilometres long.

Arriving at the gate I was really glad that I had already purchased my tickets online, because the ticket line was almost as long as the toilet lines.  It was just around noon and there were still millions of cars waiting behind us somewhere on the Little Northern highway – but we were IN!

Needless to say the kids were already asking when they were getting fed, and looking at the feeding lines I thought it might be easier to kill a stranger and eat his food.  There were long lines (almost as long as the blue toilet cubicle lines), and I was seriously doubting the ability of those poor cooks to feed all these people.

In the meanwhile we started looking at some planes, and I forgot all about food and dead strangers.

Amazing, is all I can say.  I’m not one of those blokes who can ramble on and on about every plane’s name rank and serial number, but I do enjoy looking at these bad boys.

The highlight of course was the F18 Super Hornets.  Need I say more?  These things take off on a short bit of runway and then head straight up into the sky in a vertical position – freaky.

The guns on the Hawk trainers were displayed in one of the hangers, and I took quite an interest in these. This barrel is a 30mm monster, and you sure don’t want to be at the receiving end of it.  Not quite the hunting tool, as it would mess up too much good meat:

We finally managed to get food and drink at highly inflated prices, and settled on our little picnic blanket.

They also had a display of vintage cars nearby which my son and I enjoyed while the girls went looking for a blue cubicle.

By the time the kids had eaten, the Hornet flybys had finished and they wanted to go home.  Go figure.  There were still heaps of aeroplanes that I had not yet inspected on a closer level, but the missus and the kids had enough of a fun day in the sun, and we were soon heading back home. 

The parking lot was – well – a parking lot, and it took about half an hour just to reach the exit, while hoons with 4x4’s thought they owned the road and passed people in the most selfish and idiotic ways imaginable.  Probably South African expats from Joburg, if you ask me...

All in all, a great day except for the traffic.