“WHAT do you call a bloke with dry gum leaves stuffed in his underpants?”
I know, it’s an old one and everyone can tell you the answer is Russell, but it got me thinking - nobody calls their baby Russell these days do they?
Or Myrtle, or Pearl, or Daphne or Cyril, or Clyde or even Dudley.
There are plenty of kids called Maddison, or Chloe or Ethan and other quaint new names like Riley, Reilly, Rhylee, Rhylie, Rylee, Ryley or Rylie. But certainly nobody uses the name Russell any more.
EXCEPT for Darleen. It was no secret around town that Darleen loved men - many men.
The pretty young woman just couldn’t resist an offer and had spent most of her years pregnant since leaving school.
“How many kids have you got these days, Darleen?” asked Dudley as she pulled him a beer in the pub.
“Ten,” said Darleen proudly.
“Ten, Wow!” exclaimed Dudley. “What are their names?"
“Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell, Russell and Russell.”
“Doesn’t that get confusing?”
“Naah!” said Darleen, “It’s great because if they are out playing in the street I just have to shout ‘Russell, yer dinner’s ready’ or ‘Russell, get to bed now’ and they all come running.”
“What if you want to speak to one individually?” asked Dudley.
“That’s easy,” said Darleen.
“I just use their surnames.”
BUT she could have used nicknames. The reality is that since they were blokes and Aussies, it’s a fair bet they would have been given a nickname - probably Rusty, but it could be Prong, Curly, Tripod, Chucker or Mad Dog.
There aren’t many blokes who have gone through life without a nickname.
There’s the Webb boys, Funnel and Spider. And the Down family, who my old mate Roger Cupitt claims he met at Collector - Bob, Ben, Neil, Stan and of course their sister Ida.
But then Roger reckoned he met Mark Ella’s sister at a party and her name was Rose, so our source is a tad dodgy here.
POLITICAL correctness has probably eliminated a lot of good nicknames. Some blokes with red hair seem to get upset by Ranga and Bluey these days.
Tall blokes were called Lofty, white haired gentlemen were Snowy and short blokes were usually Shortarse or Stumpy, but that sort of discrimination against the altitude-challenged would probably risk a day in court these days for having scarred the mental fragility of some sensitive new age person.
The occasional grumpy old Englishman even gets twitchy about being called a Pom in these politically correct times.
EVERYONE who plays any code of football seems to get a nickname.
The lads were quick to call rugby international Scott Fava ‘Sexual’ and Matt Hilda was known in the sheds as ‘Waltzing’, while Martin Offiah copped the clever ‘Chariots’ tag. Swans AFL player Lewis Roberts-Thompson is simply known as ‘The Hyphen’, while Adelaide’s Nathan Bassett is ‘The Hound’.
CRICKET seems to have turned nicknames into an art form.
After four successive ducks, the lads started calling Mark Waugh ‘Audi’ representing the four distinctive circles that make the symbol on the front of those cars.
Mark’s brother Steve was called ‘Tugga’, while their young brother Danny, who played grade cricket but never made the Test scene copped ‘Afghanistan’ - which was at the time, the forgotten war.
Then there was Peter ‘Sounda’ Sleep and NSW medium-pacer Aaron Bird, who was quickly nicknamed ‘Flu’.
AT work I remember we had a boss called ‘Mirrors’ because he was always going to look into it. ‘Singlet’ was so generous he’d give you the shirt off his back and when we went metric, anyone called Miles quickly copped the ‘Kilometre’ nickname.
I HAVE never understood why a whole generation of blokes christened William, John, Robert and Richard became Bill, Jack, Bob and Dick.
And what possibly possessed the Alcock, Face, Horne and Woodcock families to name their boys Richard.
The latter spent his entire life known as ‘Splinterdick’ and I am sure that’s not what his parents intended when they christened their cute little baby boy Richard.
ANYWAY, Russell, you started all of this when you stuffed dry gum leaves down you pants. Why would anyone do that?
*Geoff Goodfellow has lived his life in the Southern Highlands, works for Wingecarribee Council and is well known in local sporting and social circles.
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