# 81
...And I quote: 'Please find attached a copy of your import approval. The original approval is currently held at this office. To enable this office to send your approval to you please send in writing your Australian address to fax [imagine the next few bits are actual numbers] xx xxxx xxxx or email [identical principle to before, substituting numbers for letters] xxxxxxxx@dotars.gov.au.'
The Big Red Lady, the one with the capable stereo system WITH a CD player, has been granted permission to take off...Or, more to the point of factuality, as it were, to take to the water and swim her way south to the land of the constipated flag bearer waving a tattered and torn resemblance to the colours of stars and stripes (with a jack of the union smeared around about the top-left for posterity).
Ten FUCKING glorious weeks to take off...And I'm not talking about the X-Trail peeps! I'm talking about a one-way trip to Oz minus hostages, minus care, minus attachments, ailments, sexually contracted diseases or stowaways demanding ransom for the remainder of the term of their naturally born life.
Haaaaaaaaaaaazarrrrrrrrr!
P.S. An update on the Tookyou experience is forthcoming.
7 comments:
This appears to be in some rare strain of english that I cannot understand.
I will run it through the translator when I get back to the ship.
Right now, I'm tanning myself in the transporter room.
Me govment approved me car for importation to me countree. Oim gonna be joining it in bout ten weeks. Gonna be happy then as me yolk was punctured when I wasn't looking.
They tell me that evil will prevail.
huzzah for evil! ow long you binnin japan? reverse culture shock long?
It will be three years in June. Life here is mostly peaceful, much like in the movie Awakenings (De Niro, Williams), except for the language.
Ten weeks - I am still on the 1 year mark...
I think that if my bike and I were parted for this kind of time, I would have to resort to straddling the clothes horse and making brum-brum noises until my tears receded.
Failing that, I might be tempted to heavily modify a regular bicycle with tip-ex and pipe cleaners.
Oh, but I've had plenty of substituted four-wheeled glory to shape the size of my publically displayed manhood: an automatic Daihatsu Mira travels like the clappers given the right kind of downward gradient. With tyres as wide as my wrist, the experience is amplified through screeching and the smell of rubber, if nothing else.
P.S. New post arriving later this eve.
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