WE HAVE been exploring the fashioned old dunny-can these past couple of weeks, so today I will end this grubby trilogy with a peek into the long drop dunny, that frightening latrine that still exists in parts of rural Australia.

FOR readers born after the advent of the pristine porcelain toilet, who have never had the horrifying experience of using a long drop dunny, I should explain that they are usually a simple shed with a toilet seat built over a big hole.

For those who have used a long drop dunny, you don't need an explanation, because the malodorous experience will have been indelibly etched into your brain for life.

MY greatest fear as a kid, was falling through the hole, whenever I had to use the old long drop dunny near our shearing shed. I'd hang onto the sides for grim death until the job was done.

And I'll bet any people carrying a bit too much weight trembled whenever they heard the joists creaking under the toilet seat. It would have been an ugly death.

Despite that, a friend reckons he knew a kid in Mareeba they called Seppo, who would run outside to the toilet when he was in trouble, lower himself into the pit and hang by his fingers until his mum stopped searching.

All I can say is young Seppo must have been mighty frightened of his mother.

CONSTRUCTION of a long drop dunny was once an art.

There were subtle intricacies, like not making them too comfortable, because your farm workers stay in there for too long, or deciding if the door swings in, or out.

If it swings out and you are sitting there admiring the scenery when someone comes to use the toilet, you are stuck with your pants down around your ankles, but if it swings in you can quickly push the door shut. Little things, but very important when designing the dunny.

One of the best tricks was to put the toilet between the house and the wood-heap.

That way, when the lady of the house sheepishly goes out to the toilet and is spotted by her neighbour, she can just walk straight past the toilet, grab an armful of wood and casually bring it in to the house.

A great way to keep the wood-box full.

SNAKES and spiders were a worry when you visited one of these smelly latrines.

A friend has a dairy farm on the Shoalhaven River, where tiger snakes are prevalent.

He was hosting a New Zealand dairy farmer and the conversation turned to snakes. Ron regaled him with a few frightening tales about encounters with this deadly local reptile.

Later that day the Kiwi was sitting blissfully on a long drop dunny at the farm when he spotted something coiled near his feet.

In absolute fear he sprang up onto the seat and managed to open the door, before taking a mighty leap to safety.

Unfortunately he miscalculated the leap, cracking his noggin on the lintel above the door, falling in a bloodied heap on the ground, where he discovered the snake was, in fact, his belt.

WHEN Dudley was a young bloke he worked on a pretty big property out west.

A mining company sunk a huge exploratory hole on the property, but abandoned the project about 500 metres down.

The drillers packed up their rig and moved on, leaving a huge hole in the horse paddock near the shearing shed.

The property owner was not one to let an opportunity pass, so he built a toilet over the hole.

Probably the deepest long-drop dunny in the world.

A few months later, when a team of shearers was staying on the property, one of them went missing.

They searched everywhere and finally found the poor bloke slumped dead on the toilet seat above that 500 metre pit.

The police came and were mystified.

A very fit shearer and no sign of foul play.

The bloke was strong as an ox.

They didn't have a clue what killed him. That was, until his wife turned up.

"Did your husband have a crook heart?" asked the policemen.

"No," said his wife. "Fit as a Mallee bull."

"Well, did he have any unusual habits on the toilet?" asked the policeman, searching for clues.

"Come to think of it, he did," said his wife blushing slightly.

"He had this stupid habit of holding his breath until he heard the splash."