As I walked down Old Canterbury Road, these made me smile
I were on me way her be checked over by quack. It were raining and frigging cold boot being a curmudgeon I decided ter walk ter me appointment with the good doctor. She's thorough boot allus runnin' late. Aye, normally I sit there and watch the procession of Greeks, mostly farts older than me. A grumbling tide of bent oldies shuffling through the waiting room. Dressed for the doctor. Patient grannies trying ter herd their wild buffaloes to a seat. No sooch thing as a queue. If yer shout loudly yer get served. Querulous voices, raised trembling fists, papers being waved aboot like confetti before a funeral. Boot the terriers on the desk, all dressed in black, fierce as corbies crossing' the borderlands, keep them in line. Aye mabbe slightly rabid, slate eyed collies herding cantankerous and over wooly sheeps inta pens. There are worse ways ter spend an hour as long as nae body is coughing and spluttering. Terday, it were almost empty boot the good doctor were still running late. Aye boot still outta the shaddas the old Greeks emerged in the short hour I was there. Like an Aegean tide of folk, it were right odd, they boost appeared then disappeared inta warren that is the old building where the doc has her practice. Two old shops with enuff side rooms ter hide in, fear poking and prodding tha makes oop modern medicine. It made fer an empty waiting room, which for this medical practice is rare.
Boot on me walk in spittin'rain walking doon Old Canterbury Road I were cheered by a mighty crop of anarchist posters. Many I had nae seen afore. Aye its grand ter see there are still folk who care enough to design, print and post eye graphics ter keep old hearts warm on a cold, wet windy day in Sydney when there is too mooch shite going on. The attempted middle of night deportation of the Biloela Four Priya, Nades, Kopika and Tharunicaa to Sri Lanka. How good Scomo is it to not have a heart!
Then the Labor implosion. Boris brexit at all costs. Yer have ter have things ter keep yer heart strong and the fire burning rather than combusting.
 |
| Its Time? Call ter action Gough |
 |
| Oh dear allus sumun who equates communism as having ter be totalitarian murders |
 |
| Ootside me Greek surgery |
 |
| Pay attention Dutton!! |
 |
| On the increase boot owt done? Nowt mooch |
Then next day I was walking back home after giving her some teaspoons of blood, a jar of old man pee and it were still chilly. Boot walking through Enmore, I found even more postering had been undertaken. Aye, it tells a story of politics, protest and flitting about at night on bat wings with a bucket of paste and a mission ter provoke thought...
 |
| Eh oop! Sume und been ter marketing an graphic art classes |
 |
| Strictly not a poster boot it makes sense |
 |
| The artist getting behind their own wurk? |
