tgrs
Norm Smith Medallist
- Aug 27, 2014
- 5,424
- 11,181
- AFL Club
- Richmond
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- Arsenal
A massive thank you to BILC for giving me permission to recreate his excellent thread and the Bay13 Flog he stole it off, in the context of Season 23.
Episode 1
Balloon or DATS, which has more wrinkles?
Hello, my name is Sir David Attenborough, the British naturalist, broadcaster and journalist, and last but not least your host for the duration of this fabulous television program. Please let me wish you a warm welcome to the wonderful world of Sweet. Now, before we delve right into the deep, unexplored secrets of this majestic, and untamed natural formation of beauty and horror, a place that plays host to the hosts and travellers who make up the 12 Current Clubs playing lists, season in, season out, and all who breathe the League everyday. For the duration of this new wildlife documentary series, my trusty team and I will be discovering the unique locations and local characters which make every Club 'special', and how to avoid the altercations that plagued our perilous journey diving into the inglorious inner workings of the Sweet F.A.
At this point in time, I would like to spend a few moments of your good time to promote our generous sponsors...
...
Beginning our adventure in Mount Buller, I arrived with my team at the local train station, knighthood winning grin in full effect, and ordered my attendants to carefully escort the expensive luggage and equipment to the official transport of the Club, which I was assured had been upgraded since my last visit of almost 4 years ago! When you've lived as long as me though, it's simply another drop in the ocean.
In my last encounter with the club known as the Demons the, I had been met by a grimy looking taxi, with a grimier and resentful native, his head resembling that of a big babies, and who I later found out was named JuggaloBalla, bless his poor soul, the sod could barely mutter a word of english without bursting into tears and screaming. Needless to say, it had left a sour first impression in my mind, but upon assurance from the Club, via email, from a man who introduced himself as BRAB and his job description as Head of Misdirection and Minding RU, which did not instil me with any confidence, but never the less, I found myself booking my travel arrangements to re-document the awful scene I had uncovered last time. Just awful.
Exiting the run down building, I immediately set my eyes on the 'new and improved' vehicle and felt a sense of dismay sear through my stomach.
The Buller Standard, and 2nd most popular transport option to the mobility scooter in the area of the Roys Retirement Home to Brunswick Junction.
Then I saw the 'new and improved' Driver the Demons had provided and began regretting my decision entirely. A man who looked as aged as my good self returned an awestruck stare, he was a pitiful looking fellow, grey haired, wispy beard with a rough head hiding beneath, hunched in the back, his weak knees shaking to hold his frail figure upright. The one plus side was I began to feel quite good about my own spritely self, even more so as his shallow sounding voice pierced the eery silence.
"I am your driver, I will drive you, I am glad to meet you, I can tell you are glad to meet me. I can also tell you some things about the Demons, I can tell you about the League too, I will tell you anything, I just need someone to listen to me...I get so lonely" The old man blurted out, before continuing without pause, "I wasn't always like this, I am, I mean, I was, the greatest journalist this League has ever seen, and now I am the taxi service. Okey is sad."
"Okey?" I queried, my curiosity piqued despite better judgement, heading for the non-existent car door and squishing myself into the corner as the flustered driver hopped in the back too, he quickly grabbed the reigns to the horse before setting off slowly down the street.
The mountain's shadow was looming over us, over everything. We passed many run-down houses that were so decrepit my eyes were convinced they aged worse every second. Rolling along the road a small row of shops sat tucked away from the cold on the way to the road elevating upwards, we passed no body. Both of us sat through the peculiar ghost town in complete silence. It was only when we began the ascent up the winding path that my silent question was finally answered...
"I am okeydoke7 , I think you may have heard of me"
My driver beamed as he said this, his eyes glazed over and a strange sort of moan escaped the corners of his mouth, as if thinking of some fond past times - not even the bumpy roads causing the back (and front, and only) seat to bounce erratically without pause could bring him back to reality. Although, he seemed to notice my uneasy silence, as I was fixed with a stern look that quickly prompted me to offer a reply, how ever untruthful it may be.
"Uhm...ah...yes...of course! How could I forget?..."
This seemed to strike a nerve for my Driver. "Exactly! How could they forget? I am the greatest. I am a brilliant Forward, I shouldn't be playing fullback! I am...I am!"
Whilst his metaphors didn't stray far from the first motif he thought off, Okey compared this to the Mount Buller Leadership Group.
One of the people known for his long winded paragraphs worked himself up into a burning red mess, continuing on his tangent at full speed. I had lost track of his frustrations a long time ago, as had he, it seemed, rambling about a number of injustices levied at his persons ranging from the inane to his tax rates, and cursing out another Demon called BRAB whom he called a miserable spammer, or spanner. I couldn't really tell over the sound of the horses.
Eventually, with my backside feeling the effects of the suspension-less carriage climb, we came to a halt in a flat slab of grey concrete, the first flat land I had seen since arrival. It was a massive carpark complex, leading to the massive White Dome reflecting the sun like a glittering disco ball. I gingerly departed the vehicle tutting oohs and aahs of discomfort, using an interesting tip toe method to avoid tweaking anything more that was already in pain. Okey jumped out with the same grace and nervous energy of an overly enthusiastic tabloid reporter, not much of the former and too much of the latter. Reaching for the bags he threw them one by one to the door's entrance. Reassessing the man, I noticed he was in fact no where near my impressive age of 90 at all, in reality, he was a young lad, an unlucky one too, prematurely aged for who knows what reason, weirder still his grasp on casual conversation reminded me of my Father the Duke.
"I refuse to enter any premises of the Club whilst they continue to move my position around on the whim of an absolute wrench, I mean spammer...no, wait, that doesn't sound right."
"Right. Thanks for that" I stated somewhat sincerely...somewhat. Eager to follow my bags and depart, although I did enjoy the journey a lot more than my crew would have. This is how they were travelling...
feet...
The sleek glass doors leading to the stadium bore the insignia of the club in bold and bright colours as my filming crew and I entered the place known in Sweet as the Snow Dome. The home of the Mount Buller Demons.
With no idea what to expect, I tried entering, feeling slightly foolish as the door wouldn't budge. I spotted a flashing light above and waited for an automatic sensor to open the doors. I was waiting a while. Until a downtrodden passer-by informed me that everything at the Demons was voice activated since last season, when a new Captain had come to town.. sensing my confusion, he nodded for me to watch, and spoke quietly near the door handle.
"RU_ is a great 51% Captain." Just out of earshot, I heard a few additional words muttered below bated breath at the end of their sentence.
The sound of sliding doors followed, and the light filled hall opened wide, I followed the helpful stranger inside.
Waiting for me at a reception type area was a person dressed in a Red and Blue club tracksuit. He introduced himself as BRAB to me and I thanked him for his emails convincing the nature series to return to Sweet, but mentioned I had been a bit taken a back, and even mildly disturbed by what I had experienced already, since arriving back in Mount Buller.
"You want to see something cool?"
"Of course" I replied, you know me, I'm always ready for something cool.
"brucetiki ."
A man appeared out of thin air, offering a short greeting and standing completely still, startling me to BRAB's great amusement. He turned to the new arrival and spoke.
"**** off flog."
Just like that, the man disappeared again.
"Now it's your turn" BRAB said.
I paused uncertainly, with a tone that portrayed my distrust of the smiling host, I spoke hesitantly into the deserted foyer.
"brucetiki "
To my utmost surprise, the same man appeared again, like clockwork.
BRAB at this point began jumping up and down for joy, yelling at the top of his lungs brabble and circling the poor bloke.
"Welcome back mate, now piss off you troglodyte"
brucetiki vanished.
Now that's impressive.
"So" BRAB moved behind the reception counter and accessed the club 'computer'. That typewriter looked like it would outlast even me, although someone, or something, had mashed up the keys, bad. Even worse the I letter was completely ripped off and absent.
"Ready for the grand tour? Our beautiful and handsome Captains, the wonderful RU_ and the other one Van_Dyke , he's alright I guess, are expecting the great wildlife explorer as their guest for dinner later, but for now, I'm here to show you around Mount Buller and the Snow Dome, I think we'll start on the mountain this morning before the weather turns foul."
I stated I had no qualms, in fact I was extremely excited to catch my first glimpse of the unspoiled natural beauty on the Mountain. The Head of M&M RU_ motioned for me to follow him, walking down a corridor splitting of the giant auditorium like entrance room, where another set of glass doors were waiting.
"RU_ is a great Captain."
A bright faced attendant with a penchant for repetition called cooney greeted and welcomed me with a cheek consuming grin, which obviously came from a place of best intentions, but was quite off putting when factoring in the combined effect of all his features, his slightly off centre eyes rolling about all over the place, and the high pitched muttering of short, sharp buzzwords under the sound of the famous Chairlift clunking and groaning in the background through its endless task.
"Is the old chairlift still as popular as last time I visited the Demons?" I asked, admiring the fantastic view of the surroundings from high up above for a brief moment.
No wonder cooney is lost for words all the time.
cooney looked at me with a dull, confused expression on his face, his eyebrow's raised at mention of the last word, dawning comprehension allowing him to offer a reply, for whatever it was worth.
"Go team!"
"I'm sorry? Could you repeat that my good man?"
"Go Demons!"
Taken aback, I tried to avoid staring back into those crazy eyes. Maybe the tribal culture existing at the Demons hadn't so much been eradicated, they had just cleverly disguised the more simple members of the group by teaching them broken English.
"Oh, Of course. Down hill skiing is still the most popular sport at Mount Buller" BRAB declared proudly in answer to my question.
I stood perplexed on where to go, even what to think next. There was so much strangeness frighteningly apparent, happening all around this eye sore of a white sphere and everyone was just as crazily accepting it all without care.
"Let's take the chairlift back down, as much as I would like to ski, and I'll show you the next part of the tour."
After a screeching ride down the astonishing green treetop capped mountain side sat through mostly in awkward silence, suddenly the chairlift was in the distance, and we were heading down one of the trails that winded around the mountain and the surrounding countryside.
The guide elaborated they were heading to the place that covered the Dome's electricity supply and the town below. Apparently the complex had to expand it's output as the weekly light shows and picture slides honouring one of the Captain's had become so extravagant, they could no longer afford to light their Stadium properly for games. I asked why they didn't use fireworks.
"Oh for ****s sake, can't you leave me alone for just one ****ing moment!"
A furious, and obviously upset voice erupted from behind a snow covered row of bushes just off the path, sending everyone jumping out of their skins and one of the cameramen at the back of the procession to duck for cover.
For a hair raising moment, the bush appeared to be talking. Upon further inspection, appearing gradually from behind the snow was a weeping man sniffing into what appeared to be a bright pink guernsey with yellow and black sashes.
"Rodders what are you doing here mate?" BRAB said in obvious disappointment and shock.
"I can't help the way I feel" The man called Rodders bawled, I managed to put together the poor sod was the Ex-Furies player RodneyDangerfield from the playing photos. He looked up to his teammate pleading with puppy dog eyes for him to remain calm "It just isn't what I thought it would be".
"You're spoiling the tour!" BRAB yelled through his own tears, before sprinting off into the wilderness without a second look back.
Looking back at the rest of my film crew, all as miffed as I was about the derailing of our tour, we continued along the trail until a humungous power plant came into view from behind the tree line. We followed a cleared road either side of huge embankments of thick snow. To our amazement the doors to such an important facility were found slung wide open and unattended, letting the cold chill permeate the long, dim hallway. I shook my head, completely dumbfounded, just another thing to add to the list that was highly suspect and thoroughly creepy with these Demons. Inside, it was eerily quiet, the hallway empty apart from two closed doors next to each other at the opposite end.
In the end, it all came down to the flip of a pound. Heads, left. Tails, right. Right. Here we go. left, no right, no left, yes left.
Left it was.
I reached for the handle.
There was almost no light to speak of. The whir of machinery became deafening as the door shut behind me, my film crew gasping as it closed from the other side. It seemed I had found the entire engine room powering the Demons Snow Dome. I felt a chill slowly creep down my spine, the door had clicked sickeningly shut, the handle would not budge. From the centre of the room came the sound of a voice, I turned from struggling with the lock and faced the dark anxiously.
"So...someone finally wondered were poor old SP got to hey. Took you long enough".
"Would you like some M&M's?".
To be continued in Episode 2
Episode 1
Balloon or DATS, which has more wrinkles?
Hello, my name is Sir David Attenborough, the British naturalist, broadcaster and journalist, and last but not least your host for the duration of this fabulous television program. Please let me wish you a warm welcome to the wonderful world of Sweet. Now, before we delve right into the deep, unexplored secrets of this majestic, and untamed natural formation of beauty and horror, a place that plays host to the hosts and travellers who make up the 12 Current Clubs playing lists, season in, season out, and all who breathe the League everyday. For the duration of this new wildlife documentary series, my trusty team and I will be discovering the unique locations and local characters which make every Club 'special', and how to avoid the altercations that plagued our perilous journey diving into the inglorious inner workings of the Sweet F.A.
At this point in time, I would like to spend a few moments of your good time to promote our generous sponsors...
...
Beginning our adventure in Mount Buller, I arrived with my team at the local train station, knighthood winning grin in full effect, and ordered my attendants to carefully escort the expensive luggage and equipment to the official transport of the Club, which I was assured had been upgraded since my last visit of almost 4 years ago! When you've lived as long as me though, it's simply another drop in the ocean.
In my last encounter with the club known as the Demons the, I had been met by a grimy looking taxi, with a grimier and resentful native, his head resembling that of a big babies, and who I later found out was named JuggaloBalla, bless his poor soul, the sod could barely mutter a word of english without bursting into tears and screaming. Needless to say, it had left a sour first impression in my mind, but upon assurance from the Club, via email, from a man who introduced himself as BRAB and his job description as Head of Misdirection and Minding RU, which did not instil me with any confidence, but never the less, I found myself booking my travel arrangements to re-document the awful scene I had uncovered last time. Just awful.
Exiting the run down building, I immediately set my eyes on the 'new and improved' vehicle and felt a sense of dismay sear through my stomach.
The Buller Standard, and 2nd most popular transport option to the mobility scooter in the area of the Roys Retirement Home to Brunswick Junction.
Then I saw the 'new and improved' Driver the Demons had provided and began regretting my decision entirely. A man who looked as aged as my good self returned an awestruck stare, he was a pitiful looking fellow, grey haired, wispy beard with a rough head hiding beneath, hunched in the back, his weak knees shaking to hold his frail figure upright. The one plus side was I began to feel quite good about my own spritely self, even more so as his shallow sounding voice pierced the eery silence.
"I am your driver, I will drive you, I am glad to meet you, I can tell you are glad to meet me. I can also tell you some things about the Demons, I can tell you about the League too, I will tell you anything, I just need someone to listen to me...I get so lonely" The old man blurted out, before continuing without pause, "I wasn't always like this, I am, I mean, I was, the greatest journalist this League has ever seen, and now I am the taxi service. Okey is sad."
"Okey?" I queried, my curiosity piqued despite better judgement, heading for the non-existent car door and squishing myself into the corner as the flustered driver hopped in the back too, he quickly grabbed the reigns to the horse before setting off slowly down the street.
The mountain's shadow was looming over us, over everything. We passed many run-down houses that were so decrepit my eyes were convinced they aged worse every second. Rolling along the road a small row of shops sat tucked away from the cold on the way to the road elevating upwards, we passed no body. Both of us sat through the peculiar ghost town in complete silence. It was only when we began the ascent up the winding path that my silent question was finally answered...
"I am okeydoke7 , I think you may have heard of me"
My driver beamed as he said this, his eyes glazed over and a strange sort of moan escaped the corners of his mouth, as if thinking of some fond past times - not even the bumpy roads causing the back (and front, and only) seat to bounce erratically without pause could bring him back to reality. Although, he seemed to notice my uneasy silence, as I was fixed with a stern look that quickly prompted me to offer a reply, how ever untruthful it may be.
"Uhm...ah...yes...of course! How could I forget?..."
This seemed to strike a nerve for my Driver. "Exactly! How could they forget? I am the greatest. I am a brilliant Forward, I shouldn't be playing fullback! I am...I am!"
Whilst his metaphors didn't stray far from the first motif he thought off, Okey compared this to the Mount Buller Leadership Group.
One of the people known for his long winded paragraphs worked himself up into a burning red mess, continuing on his tangent at full speed. I had lost track of his frustrations a long time ago, as had he, it seemed, rambling about a number of injustices levied at his persons ranging from the inane to his tax rates, and cursing out another Demon called BRAB whom he called a miserable spammer, or spanner. I couldn't really tell over the sound of the horses.
Eventually, with my backside feeling the effects of the suspension-less carriage climb, we came to a halt in a flat slab of grey concrete, the first flat land I had seen since arrival. It was a massive carpark complex, leading to the massive White Dome reflecting the sun like a glittering disco ball. I gingerly departed the vehicle tutting oohs and aahs of discomfort, using an interesting tip toe method to avoid tweaking anything more that was already in pain. Okey jumped out with the same grace and nervous energy of an overly enthusiastic tabloid reporter, not much of the former and too much of the latter. Reaching for the bags he threw them one by one to the door's entrance. Reassessing the man, I noticed he was in fact no where near my impressive age of 90 at all, in reality, he was a young lad, an unlucky one too, prematurely aged for who knows what reason, weirder still his grasp on casual conversation reminded me of my Father the Duke.
"I refuse to enter any premises of the Club whilst they continue to move my position around on the whim of an absolute wrench, I mean spammer...no, wait, that doesn't sound right."
"Right. Thanks for that" I stated somewhat sincerely...somewhat. Eager to follow my bags and depart, although I did enjoy the journey a lot more than my crew would have. This is how they were travelling...
feet...
The sleek glass doors leading to the stadium bore the insignia of the club in bold and bright colours as my filming crew and I entered the place known in Sweet as the Snow Dome. The home of the Mount Buller Demons.
With no idea what to expect, I tried entering, feeling slightly foolish as the door wouldn't budge. I spotted a flashing light above and waited for an automatic sensor to open the doors. I was waiting a while. Until a downtrodden passer-by informed me that everything at the Demons was voice activated since last season, when a new Captain had come to town.. sensing my confusion, he nodded for me to watch, and spoke quietly near the door handle.
"RU_ is a great 51% Captain." Just out of earshot, I heard a few additional words muttered below bated breath at the end of their sentence.
The sound of sliding doors followed, and the light filled hall opened wide, I followed the helpful stranger inside.
Waiting for me at a reception type area was a person dressed in a Red and Blue club tracksuit. He introduced himself as BRAB to me and I thanked him for his emails convincing the nature series to return to Sweet, but mentioned I had been a bit taken a back, and even mildly disturbed by what I had experienced already, since arriving back in Mount Buller.
"You want to see something cool?"
"Of course" I replied, you know me, I'm always ready for something cool.
"brucetiki ."
A man appeared out of thin air, offering a short greeting and standing completely still, startling me to BRAB's great amusement. He turned to the new arrival and spoke.
"**** off flog."
Just like that, the man disappeared again.
"Now it's your turn" BRAB said.
I paused uncertainly, with a tone that portrayed my distrust of the smiling host, I spoke hesitantly into the deserted foyer.
"brucetiki "
To my utmost surprise, the same man appeared again, like clockwork.
BRAB at this point began jumping up and down for joy, yelling at the top of his lungs brabble and circling the poor bloke.
"Welcome back mate, now piss off you troglodyte"
brucetiki vanished.
Now that's impressive.
"So" BRAB moved behind the reception counter and accessed the club 'computer'. That typewriter looked like it would outlast even me, although someone, or something, had mashed up the keys, bad. Even worse the I letter was completely ripped off and absent.
"Ready for the grand tour? Our beautiful and handsome Captains, the wonderful RU_ and the other one Van_Dyke , he's alright I guess, are expecting the great wildlife explorer as their guest for dinner later, but for now, I'm here to show you around Mount Buller and the Snow Dome, I think we'll start on the mountain this morning before the weather turns foul."
I stated I had no qualms, in fact I was extremely excited to catch my first glimpse of the unspoiled natural beauty on the Mountain. The Head of M&M RU_ motioned for me to follow him, walking down a corridor splitting of the giant auditorium like entrance room, where another set of glass doors were waiting.
"RU_ is a great Captain."
A bright faced attendant with a penchant for repetition called cooney greeted and welcomed me with a cheek consuming grin, which obviously came from a place of best intentions, but was quite off putting when factoring in the combined effect of all his features, his slightly off centre eyes rolling about all over the place, and the high pitched muttering of short, sharp buzzwords under the sound of the famous Chairlift clunking and groaning in the background through its endless task.
"Is the old chairlift still as popular as last time I visited the Demons?" I asked, admiring the fantastic view of the surroundings from high up above for a brief moment.
No wonder cooney is lost for words all the time.
cooney looked at me with a dull, confused expression on his face, his eyebrow's raised at mention of the last word, dawning comprehension allowing him to offer a reply, for whatever it was worth.
"Go team!"
"I'm sorry? Could you repeat that my good man?"
"Go Demons!"
Taken aback, I tried to avoid staring back into those crazy eyes. Maybe the tribal culture existing at the Demons hadn't so much been eradicated, they had just cleverly disguised the more simple members of the group by teaching them broken English.
"Oh, Of course. Down hill skiing is still the most popular sport at Mount Buller" BRAB declared proudly in answer to my question.
I stood perplexed on where to go, even what to think next. There was so much strangeness frighteningly apparent, happening all around this eye sore of a white sphere and everyone was just as crazily accepting it all without care.
"Let's take the chairlift back down, as much as I would like to ski, and I'll show you the next part of the tour."
After a screeching ride down the astonishing green treetop capped mountain side sat through mostly in awkward silence, suddenly the chairlift was in the distance, and we were heading down one of the trails that winded around the mountain and the surrounding countryside.
The guide elaborated they were heading to the place that covered the Dome's electricity supply and the town below. Apparently the complex had to expand it's output as the weekly light shows and picture slides honouring one of the Captain's had become so extravagant, they could no longer afford to light their Stadium properly for games. I asked why they didn't use fireworks.
"Oh for ****s sake, can't you leave me alone for just one ****ing moment!"
A furious, and obviously upset voice erupted from behind a snow covered row of bushes just off the path, sending everyone jumping out of their skins and one of the cameramen at the back of the procession to duck for cover.
For a hair raising moment, the bush appeared to be talking. Upon further inspection, appearing gradually from behind the snow was a weeping man sniffing into what appeared to be a bright pink guernsey with yellow and black sashes.
"Rodders what are you doing here mate?" BRAB said in obvious disappointment and shock.
"I can't help the way I feel" The man called Rodders bawled, I managed to put together the poor sod was the Ex-Furies player RodneyDangerfield from the playing photos. He looked up to his teammate pleading with puppy dog eyes for him to remain calm "It just isn't what I thought it would be".
"You're spoiling the tour!" BRAB yelled through his own tears, before sprinting off into the wilderness without a second look back.
Looking back at the rest of my film crew, all as miffed as I was about the derailing of our tour, we continued along the trail until a humungous power plant came into view from behind the tree line. We followed a cleared road either side of huge embankments of thick snow. To our amazement the doors to such an important facility were found slung wide open and unattended, letting the cold chill permeate the long, dim hallway. I shook my head, completely dumbfounded, just another thing to add to the list that was highly suspect and thoroughly creepy with these Demons. Inside, it was eerily quiet, the hallway empty apart from two closed doors next to each other at the opposite end.
In the end, it all came down to the flip of a pound. Heads, left. Tails, right. Right. Here we go. left, no right, no left, yes left.
Left it was.
I reached for the handle.
There was almost no light to speak of. The whir of machinery became deafening as the door shut behind me, my film crew gasping as it closed from the other side. It seemed I had found the entire engine room powering the Demons Snow Dome. I felt a chill slowly creep down my spine, the door had clicked sickeningly shut, the handle would not budge. From the centre of the room came the sound of a voice, I turned from struggling with the lock and faced the dark anxiously.
"So...someone finally wondered were poor old SP got to hey. Took you long enough".
"Would you like some M&M's?".
To be continued in Episode 2
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