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Letter to


Dear Jerry dude,

I've been like, building this mud brick place. It's on a few acres up the north coast. And I'm just like, staying cool, and hanging loose with a few beautiful people. When one says he knows where there is like this most mind blowing stash of old phones. I'm talking like Aladdin's cave in an old warehouse. The most outrageous plastic phones from the sixties. And this freaks me out. And when I've like chilled out, I get to thinking that there must be something I can do with them, see. So like mentor, can you let me know what to do.

Peace man!

Avoid the brown acid.

Love Child.

Dear Love Child,

Peace, lentils and prune juice. Especially the prune juice. They say if you can remember the rock concert "Woodstock", then you can't have been there. I can't remember Woodstock, so it stands to reason I must have been. I smoke, therefore I am.

I must admit though, this is the first time I've had a request for help written on a coconut. They must have given you some pretty strange looks at the post office. Anyway, you have made me feel a touch nostalgic.

The sixties were a fabulous time. Australia had three percent unimployment, housing was affordable and I had a new "Holden" in the drive. Ah, the good old days. Oh, there was the odd assassination or two, a war, the Prime Minister couldn't swim for peanuts, and the "Bay of Pigs" incident, come to think of it. Otherwise though, it was a great time to be alive.

I would presume the phones you are referring to are coloured 800's, Ericofons, etc. These phones, believe it or not, are an absolute asset in any garden. Let me explain......

I use 800's as a border to my vegetable patch. They were, after all, available in six colours. I try to alternate them to create the greatest visual impact. I have a selection of the different coloured wall 800's screwed along the back fence. It creates a pleasant contrast to the swans I made with the old tyres off the "Kingswood". You might like to place a few Ericofons in the flower beds. Not only are they pleasing to the eye, but a lot easier to look after than your average garden knome.

I would nor recommend that anyone keep garden knomes. They are stroppy little buggers, who like nothing better than to talk about you behind your back. I know, I lay in bed at night and I can hear them.

The other problem is that people steal them and take them on holidays. To add to that, they think it's funny to send you postcards from far off and exotic places with witty captions like "the weather is here, wish you were beautiful", all signed by your very own concrete companion! Ha! Bloody Ha! Where did I put those pills? And another thing, frankly I think people that have garden knomes deserve everything they get. They should all be rounded up in a large football stadium and........

It was at this point Jerry's letter became a little, shall we say, unintelligible. What I could make out gave me the impression that I had better leave it there or face legal action from Amnesty International.


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