Entertainment
22 October, 2021
Wayne’s World: The devil within … third born mongrels
G’DAY Tropicairnsians,
Here I sit once again at 3 o’clock in the morning, tapping away at this keyboard after waking up with what I am starting to call my journalistic inspirations, (I can almost hear my editor choking on his donut.)
I ask myself, why I cannot just write down notes while in bed like I do for the brain busting ideas that come to me for my handyman business.
No, instead for this column I have to get up and sit front of a bright screen swilling down mugs of tar, and all because of my Irish genes.
Now good people, I want to give you a little bit of history to the meaning of life surrounding me, Wayne John Marshall.
For a good laugh, say my name backwards and remember I am 4 feet tall.
This was my dad’s joke on me having been born in the 60’s in Vicoldia to a father called Gordon Robert Marshall who as an Interstate bus driver was not home very much and indeed by the time I reached four years old not home at all.
Now this is not an uncommon story for many people, but my life story is definitely not normal, and it all starts with Bob, who is Bob??
Well, that’s my old man because as a young fella decided the name Gordon did not sit right with him so he shortened his middle name and took a knuckle sandwich to any who thought different.
Now dad was a pretty cluey short fella, and soon realized that while travelling around this fantastic island with some excitable young ladies, that if you have loyal, grateful, food and beverage stop people to bring over a birthday card to him on every trip, that it was exceedingly rare that he would go to a cold bed at night.
Another of his little idiosyncracies was waking up early in the wee hours to write notes about yarns to tell the passengers while traveling long bumpy and often dusty roads and he said that some were so bloody fantastic great yarns that many times it was suggested he should have given up driving and penned a book, but way back then he reckons the bus perks were too good.
On one of his last visits up here to see his grandkids, while we were on the turps one night, I asked how many half brothers and sisters I might have, well he almost spat out a mouthful of scotch then recovered with a huge Cheshire cat grin telling me not to worry as there is no chance of another third born trouble making mongrel like me haunting the country, but there may be a few first borns.
What he was referring to that in the Marshall family breeding line, the first born is usually a normal boy followed by a girl and third is a devil enhanced boy, then followed by normal girls again if you kept breeding.
My dad was the 3rd born, the devil boy was me and the trend is now showing up in my third born grandson who managed to spend his seventh birthday at home suspended from school for fighting, the apple does not fall far from the tree.
To my son, this is why you have a sister and not a brother too, because I went to the Vet to eliminate being harassed by a smaller demon boy of me.
May the Leprechauns follow, guide my devil grandson and then his 3rd born son in life with all the great yarns to be told by them and their future generations of Irish rejects.
Wayne
