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Text: 'A Barcoo Cocktail' v2 Chapter 3, Getting Rotten

from plowie, 25.06.09

"Getting Rotten!" What a title for a solemn chapter in a totally serious work such as this! Am I getting carried away into the realms of fantasy, or have I simply lost the plot? The answer is, neither. The fact is that people out in the scrub in my day, generally had a tendency to get thoroughly plastered once in a while, and some of them persued this ritual with a fervour that verged on the fanatical. Some people go to Church every week, and some every month, and they can be equally devout. The people out west may not hit the turps every day, or even every week, but a great many of them were known to do so fairly religiously nonetheless!

This brings up the inevitable problem of what to do about the most unpleasant consequences, such as the shattering hangover; the morning after. On one such occasion I really thought I might die. Then a bit later I had the frightening thought that I mightn't!

There was one old codger with a face like a block of granite and a constitution to match who had a most noteworthy contribution to make in this regard. He had been up every dry gully between Ayer's Rock and Perth and up to Broome as well, and his advice was:

"Get a tumbler about half full of metho, drop in a block of carbide the size of the end of yer little finger, and drink 'er while she's fizzin'. If yer can take that, you'll know the hangover won't hurt yer".

For the uninitiated, carbide is a natural mineral which, in contact with water (or metho) produces the gas acetylene, as used in oxy-acetylene welding. It is highly inflammable, and totally lethal when consumed by the human body in more than minute quantities. I know what he was talking about and you had better know it too, before you start taking his advice too literally!

Actually there was one medication that was highly recomended by a celebrated shearer's cook. He too, knew his way around the rougher corners of life's meandering highways and byways and when he offered his personal remedy to me I was in no condition to argue! Prepare the dosage as follows:

Take one 7oz glass.
Add one full nip of O.P. Bundaberg rum.
Add a similar quantity of black Holbrooks Sauce.
Add one egg yolk (unbroken, raw, no white!)
Load liberally with black pepper, and salt.
Do not stir, whip or disturb in any way.

Observe and ponder this nauseous looking concotion, while weighing in the balance the risks involved in consuming it, as against the apalling manner of your demise, otherwise! You have little choice, so pick it up and toss it off at a single gulp, not breaking the egg yolk! Actually it goes down quite easily, and in the final analysis I feel I have to give it my vote. That cook probably applied the same remedy many times in his own great need, following the heavy consumption of the shearer's cook's specialty, being lemon essence, a normal part of every larder, and conveniently having an alcohol level of around 90%!

There was another problem which sometimes beset the hardened old time tipplers. A good pay cheque would lead to a right old 'blinder' at the pub, lasting perhaps a couple of weeks. Towards the end of it this fellow would know that the money was gone, and the only way ahead was to sober up and go back to work. Once thoroughly pickled from the hide to the bone marrow it takes very little alcohol to maintain the status quo, and it is very difficult to say "No more, thanks", but the method of sobering up adopted by some was just so beautifully simple. Depending on the individual, he would get either a full bottle or a half bottle of rum, and head for home. Taking a nip on the road he topped the bottle up with water. The same procedure was followed each time, and soon the strength of the rum was noticeably diminished. At the end of a week it was nearly pure water, and our hero was sober without any great effort or severe consequences for his folly!

To get thoroughly drunk in the absolute minimum of time seems to be the aim of many people, and much serious effort is put into the task. Accidentally I found myself in a situation which takes some beating, but it requires considerable organisation. The method involves travelling by car about thirty miles west of Quilpie, the time being around 2.00pm in the middle of January. Meet, by chance, a friend travelling the other way, and stop for a yarn. Out comes a bottle of 36op rum which has been well warmed by rolling around on the floor just over the exhaust pipe. The only drinking vessel is a large flat bottomed tin pint, in which three full nips looks like a 'half', and the only 'mixer' is hot, highly mineralised water from a bore drain by the roadside. Instant results are guaranteed!

On reflection, it would appear that few deaths have ocurred as a result of hangovers, although that eventuality may seem a merciful release at the time!

Personally I have survived this condition in varying degree, with one which lasted for three days, during which I dared not touch a single drop of the 'demon drink'.

Said hangover was induced by an evening of much revelry, followed by a trip home of sixty miles during which the only refreshment was OP rum washed down with Captain Cook whisky. We had run out of water and there was certainly no ice! That Captain Cook whisky was an Australian variety, and quite unlike a genuine 'Scotch'. The result defies description, yet the resilient human frame being what it is, I am here to tell the tale! So drink up, boys! Life's great, and there's only just so much time for each of us. But don't overdo it. Thumping great hangovers are a real health hazard!

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