Everything’s Happy Underground

The Americans were lucky enough to meet The Mothership last Saturday, when we were in Goulburn to see the Big Merino.

MOTHERSHIP:  Have you shown them the mailbox with the legs?

SHAUNY:  Sorry?

M:  It’s only the biggest tourist attraction in town! Somebody has a mailbox that consists of a big pair of legs sticking out of the ground. The postman has to slot the mail into its arse! Hee hee hee!

AMERICANS:  [alarmed look]

M:  Trust me, it’s really cool! You’ll love it. It is Australia! Let me draw you a map.

So we drove by and hung out the car window with cameras. I’m sure the highlight of their whole insane Australian jaunt will be the mailbox with the disembodied plastic legs. It even had a pair of black undies on, for the sake of decency.

The Mothership also landed on Tuesday to eat our pasta and to sit on the couch asking, “So, what’s new?” and other inane questions every seven seconds.

MOTHERSHIP:  So what’s new?

SHAUNY & RHI:  Nothing!

M:  Well there must be something!

S & R:  There’s nothing!

M:  Hmmph


M:  Hey, do you think you’ll ever go to France?

R:  Sure, why not?

M:  Will you be going in that tunnel?

R:  Possibly.

M:  I don’t want you going in that tunnel!

R:  Why not?

M:  It’s crazy, that tunnel! It’s underwater and goes on for miles and anything could happen in there! I don’t believe in tunnels!

R:  I’ve been in the Sydney Harbour Tunnel.

M:  I don’t like you going in there either but this one is longer. And foreign! Promise me you won’t go in that tunnel!

R:  You’re a crackpot.

About Shauna Reid

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25 thoughts on “Everything’s Happy Underground

  1. My, Shauny, would M. Ship approve of a love tunnel?

    Personally, I’ve always found that entering tunnels is a pretty neat idea. From a very simple standpoint, the tunnel exists to transport humans, inanimate objects and small animals (sometimes known to scream) through some physical obstruction that is either a burden to climb (i.e., a mountain) or a burden to swim (i.e., a broad Channel). In some sense, you could call the tunnel a subterranean thoroughway for the lazy man.

    It remains to be seen, however, whether tomorrow’s grandparents’ will replace the current septuagenarian mantra, “I had to walk uphill. Both ways,” with the phrase, “I had to (fly/boat/swim) to France from England. You crazy kids are spoiled with that Chunnel. Get out of my sight!”

    And then there’s the obvious sexual suggestion, best employed by Mr. Hitchcock during the final shot of “North by Northwest.”

    In fact, since it is impossible to drive and masturbate while you are going through a tunnel, particularly when you are in the company of children, the holding your breath game finds a nice compromise for this association.

  2. Man, that channeltunnel home page needs a little padding on the left side of the main frame! I bet they paid that agency a million billion dollard to do it too.

  3. What disturbs me is that you’ve neglected to mention to your readers that you HAVE got the collection gene, like your mother and grandmother.

    When I was visiting, I noticed a large collection of blow flies on your window sill.

  4. You should totally post a picture of those legs. I wouldn’t say they’re the highlight, exactly…well, not THE highlight.

  5. I’ve been in that chunnel twice and it took everything in me not to start hyperventilating at the thought of all that water above me…same with the Sydney harbour one, but then everything’s a bit daunting the more you think about it: planes, ships…how do they do it?

  6. The tunnel you won’t get me in is the one in Melbourne under the Arts centre. I had a dream as a little kid that I was stuck in a tunnel under the Arts centre that was flooded. Of course there wasn’t a tunnel under there then, but there is now… I think it would just be tempting fate for me to go through it.

  7. I can’t believe I was in Canberra and didn’t see this mailbox. My trip was wasted and incomplete. Now I have to come back!

  8. Sometimes I wish I had a vagina. As in my own vagina, that is. A vagina that is itself a part of my own anatomy. I’d just love to know what it’s like to have one (and even get jealous of people who already have their own). Hmmm, perhaps this is some kind of alternative manifestation of the male instinct for penetration? Or just a bit of sexual curiousity left over from my adolescence (which, come to think of it, hasn’t really diminished since my adolescence, it’s just moved on to more advanced topics than just what the general basics are).

    But anyway, having got vaginas out of the way for this comment, erm… I can’t remember what I was going to say about the Channel Tunnel (or ‘Chunnel’, as some like to call it). I think it was something about how it’s not really foreign, it’s only half-foreign, being half-British, half-French. But I’m British, so I’ll of course take a Britocentric view of these things, arrogantly and ignorantly thinking that it’s the rest of the world that’s ‘different’, when really it’s Britain that’s the odd one out.

    Erm, this comment hasn’t really been terribly on-topic, has it? It’s those bushfires and vaginas that have distracted me.

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