Just ‘Cause You Didn’t Finish High School An’ Ain’t Got But Four Teeth In Your Mouth An’ One Uh Them Not Worth A Damn Dun mean Can’t Feelup SawHole

Just like peace and harmony can bring people together, so can irrational prejudice.

While sitting on the verandah last week being served nibbles and soft drinks by Harry, Mrs Woog and I realised there was one section of society repelled us both.These, Woogsworld readers, are carnies.

Carnie? What is that, you ask?

Well, according to Wikipedia, carny or carnie is a slang term used in North America and, along with showie, in Australia for a carnival (funfair) employee, (also circus) . A “carny” is anyone who runs a “joint” (booth), “grab joint” (food stand), game, or ride at a carnival, boardwalk or amusement park.

Mrs Woog’s reason for her prejudice is, firstly, she likes the sound of the word ‘carn’ and, secondly, being from Western Sydney originally, it gives her someone to feel superior to. My bigotry is far more ingrained and much more sinister.

You see, in 1989 I was the victim of a carnie assault at the Lithgow Show. The location for this assault was the Ghost Train ride. We were still kids so the idea of going on the Ghost Train was exciting, so I climbed aboard the train with my two friends and we were strapped in the compartment. Soon we were swinging left and right on the tracks and waited expectantly to see ghosts. But these weren’t ghosts.

These were carn.

And they grabbed boobs. They would come in from the right, from behind the ghost diorama and grabbed us straight on the chest.The carns thought they were hilarious and came out from behind the diorama and leered at us as we left the ride. You have to be one sick carn to get off grabbing teenagers on a non-amusement ride. That is how you get your jollies, boys?

I would have loved to have said that but in 1989 you would have been laughed off if you made a complaint. These days I would call the police and have those carn boys locked up in the big house with a man called Bubba. The only other time I have been groped in such a fashion was when I was walking around Old Delhi in India.

Unlike some of the stupid Australians who come to India, I was dressed appropriately in the hideous happy pants Mrs Gibbs bought for us, along with a tunics and head scarf. We dressed with the aim of making ourselves look as unattractive as possible. But no. SawHole still manages to get a boob grab from a man in an Osama Bin Laden-like outfit. (In this case, it was a nipple cripple and it hurt)

Now like all bigots, I have a friend who is a carn. I tell you this to reassure that I am not going to embark on a carn war. My friend, Jones, makes biscuits and sells them at markets. Her sister makes dolls as well, so they say they are carn. Fancy Carn.

Insert gratuitous carn plug http://www.theolivetreemarket.com.au/stall-holders/craft-and-textiles/sketch-jones/

When Mrs Woog heard these stories she laughed until she almost could not breathe and decided I was in need of some protection.

Enter, please, Ambi pur Air Effects.

Not only is it shaped like a can of mace, one blow from it will leave a carn stunned and smelling like:”spring and renewal”. Mrs Woog gave me the almost empty can of Ambi pur to protect me from carnies.


She says it is my end of the financial year bonus. But I don’t want Ambi pur.

I want justice.

Yours in carn loathing,

La Hole. (French for SawHole)