Some Bendigo blokes might have cast a wistful eye over the latest Bunnings ad in the Addy this week. And they might have let their gaze fall upon a cylinder which acts as a worm farm.

They might have chuckled over the name: Can of Worms. And they might have pondered over the small print, which said: “Worms sold separately.” (What? Really? One at a time.)

But as, a DTM pal remarked: Would it be something you’d really want to open?

Splitting hairs

People can be so literal these days.

One of Bendigo’s Rotary Clubs was welcoming one of its most respected “honorary life members”, architect David Breaden, back to town when the club’s resident pedant raised what he thought was a genuine issue.

“David, I want to ask a question about your title. Are you an honorary member for life, or have we declared your life honorary?” 

The air was swiftly filled with sharp glances and cutlery.

Better late than never

An update on last week’s bee-sting story.

Rob was accused of doing a very good impersonation of gangster Tony Mokbel after a night in Barwon Prison after a bee stung him in the eye, causing vicious dark swelling.

Rob says a family member rang on Saturday saying she’d heard he’d been felled by a swarm of killer bees and it took ages to calm her down.

Later another female family member rang to see if he was okay and was taken aback when Rob advised her she was being cut from his will. “It took you until 10.30am to make an effort to find if I was dying.”

Chaotic Christmas

Bendigo’s first Christmas after the discovery of gold in 1852 was pretty remarkable in the light of recent events. According to the Addy, it involved a “reign of terror”.

The story went that two young blokes had a spiffing tent on the Bendigo Creek. It was large, lined with green cloth and even had a timber floor.

The Addy reported: “On that Christmas Day they invited a few neighbours, young men of their own standing, to dinner, and a capital spread, all things considered, they managed to lay before their guests. In the evening they indulged in song and music too, for a youthful German was present with his guitar.” Then things went pear-shaped.

“But whilst they were thus enjoying themselves, down came a posse of police. Ransacking the place they found a small quantity of brandy in a bottle, and this they deemed sufficient to warrant them in seizing the place as a sly grog shop, in tearing it to pieces and laying it level with the ground, in arresting the whole of the company and marching them at the point of the bayonet to the log building on Camp Hill, which served as a lockup. 

“It was a disgraceful act, for valuable property was ruthlessly destroyed, and the owners were men of respectability and culture, and the last in the world to think of selling grog. We may be thankful that this reign of terror has long ended.”

DTM hopes your Christmas is a little more peaceful.