The origins of our hirsute hero are shrouded in secrecy, half truths and a Cold Chisel soundtrack. We first met back in ‘Nam where I came across the young T Bag fishing whilst nude. He claimed it made him one with the water and although others thought it made him look crazy I could see his nuts and it didn’t bother me one bit. That’s where he got his nickname, incidentally.
But then the waters around Nam were warm and moist, just like the jungle. I didn’t know it then but it wouldn’t be the first time I caught him naked around fish. Perhaps it was the war, perhaps it was a fetish, who really knows but even in the middle of a war zone the guy loved to fish and still does. If he’s not actually fishing then he’s either watching programmes or reading magazines, about fishing.
Ironic then that he should be on his way to Canada where the salmon are nervous and the beer is like making love in a boat; fucking close to water.
In some parts of that country they speak French. Celine Dion is from Canada. She speaks French and English but lets face it, she sounds awful in either language. Wolverine is from Canada too and although he is a borderline feral personality with six razor sharp claws that pop out of his hands at will, I’d rather meet him quite frankly. Sadly he’s a fictional comic book character, so no real chance there. Dion on the other hand is very real *shiver*.
Once, in a tender moment shared in a communal warm shower, TBag revealed to me that he had grown up on the very square streets of Palmerston North. A little known fact about Palmy is that it has NZ's highest population of ugly people, a fact confirmed to me one time by the missus who had the misfortune to be ’out on the town’ there one night.
I had a mate called Palmy once. He was a wanker.
It was there that Timmo developed his appreciation of all things passion wagon. He covets a good wagon did our TBag and as a four doors and a hatch man myself, I respect that. But then who wouldn’t really because wagons are the original all purpose vehicle; kids, pets, groceries, sports equipment, firewood, dogging…the wagon has it all covered.
We have two such fine specimens at The Club, aptly named Passion Wagons Mk 1 and 2. Mk1 is made by Hyundai and crafted from hardened Korean steel, just like the huge, globe circling ships they build. Despite knowing this I do have a nagging suspicion it will crumple like a potato chip were we involved in a collision tomorrow, but then it is built for speed with no electrics and no such luxuries as side impact airbags.
Mk2 is a Mazda which for some reasons Americans pronounce the same way they do ‘asthma’, like a kid with a lisp. It’s from the country that gave us Ninjas, The Kamikaze and guys who like to kill blonde European girls and hide their bodies in a bathtub full of sand on their balcony. It too is built for speed, has all the electrics and airbags you could want, but yet is currently sounding like a World War One biplane as it attempts to start each morning. Bloody electrics.
Anyhoo, our Timmo has made like a Christian and pulled out which leaves us with a void where once there was a good looking guy in flared trousers and a bomber jacket with WWF badges on his sleeve.
It’s only been a week but just like Nam the withdrawal symptoms have kicked in, so much so I found myself watching a fishing show on TV whilst rocking back and forth in the foetal position. It was that one with the guy in the wheelchair, who seems very nice, but a small part of me does want to see what happens if he were to accidentally roll off the end of the boat at some point…
So farewell Timmo. Our gain is Canada’s loss, or something like that. And hey, never forget what that wise old VC bugger in Tan Son Nhut said to us that time we captured him:
“Ông đã đi ngủ với một gã ăn mày ngứa, tỉnh dậy với một ngón tay có mùi”
TBag and one of his passion wagons. That's not a blue cod in his pocket either...
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