3 clubs, 23 rounds, A slab of passion….

Sleeping Invigilators


Graham Kerr

Invigilator – person who supervises candidates during an examination.

Hors-d’oeuvre, Smorgasbord and eating with mini me forks,  are concepts from a distant era populated by flamboyant kaftan and safari suit wearing types dancing to the beat of the monochrome world of the galloping gourmet Graham Kerr. Pop me in the Tardis for one more joyous feast of easy finger food flopped frivolously from fantastic fondue filled fun. Oh for a fat juicy platter of “angels on horseback” that started life in overseas Michelin rated food houses as savouries made from oysters wrapped in bacon before the great fruit substitution heist when we mere convicts put the oyster to the sword.  Resistance is futile once prunes and bacon become baked bed partners within you, pausing to salute the fleet, before launching a thousand ships in your duodenum.

Years ago when working one night in large rural motel convention centre offering Hors-d’oeuvre to semi hammered friends and family of let out for the occasion suburban newlyweds, a daytime employee came in the back entrance with 3 of his mates looking for some of the industrialised homebrew the establishment passed for lager, to, in his words, “borrow”. Now he must’ve been desperate, he must’ve been low, for brewing quality control was such that after 1.5 premium 220ml bottles you were reduced to the type of cultural and social coma inhabited by the teletubbies. Taken with angel of horsebacks, the lager was practically an accessory after the fact.


Raquel Welch impersonates Pete Evans

Those of us at the coalface are disoriented by his brazen venture yet intoxicated by the audacity of his application for credit or “theft”. Our shift managers where generally recruited from the ranks of the ambition deficient for whom work and supervision got in the way of reading regular slabs of contemporary versions of “50 shades of Grey”. You’re torn between wanting to report the offence and not dobbing in a mate to those establishment lackies. Yep this is the same “mate” you tagged as a wack job from that very first time you shared a shift together. Had this guy been an Essendon player present during the reign of their infamous supplements program he would have easily avoided the swift sacking he got the following Monday morning.

You see, despite this establishment’s food and drink offerings being on a par with a Paleo unplugged smorgasboard via the real housewives of 300 million BC,  it had it’s record keeping floating just above the surface of the iceberg required by the Accounting Professional & Ethical Standards Board.  A half morning on the abacus quickly revealed the missing alcohol and sent our mate to the gallows. Popular opinion on the shop floor was that despite his obvious shortcomings (to wit stupidity), he’d should have been considered for a Municipal “Citizen of the Year” award for couragesouly taking that swill out of public circulation.

Teletubbies discuss hospitality with my old boss

Teletubbies discuss hospitality with my old boss

Fortunately those sentiments became a reality when the receivers stepped in a few months later putting that beer to bed along with the majority of people who’d drunk the concoction. Beer had become the only thing they no longer had to pay for as they swapped bakers and vegetable suppliers daily to extend a delusional credit line until the last supplier standing class time on the class action.

When good or bad people don’t/won’t talk at work, it comes back to the corporate gumshoes trawling the emails, the mobile phone records, the CCTV footage, the standard operating procedure records et al to forge a prosecution be it perpetrator or scapegoat.  Essendon’s social club liquor stock records appear to be in better shape than their football departments. Very rarely do it get as easy for the retrenchee to make a case for themselves as did my “mate” all those years ago.

Australia loves to promulgate legislation to crack down on rorts or escalating undesirable behaviour on a regular basis. Devo’s honourable philosophy has become “When a problem comes along you must regulate it”. Yet someone has to enforce it and this is where the system usually falls down for lack of staff, time and resources. Governments can end up chasing their own tail opening the door to subsequent rorting set up by poorly thought throw legislation. For example, those less honourable sections of the industry enjoying the low hanging wage fruits of the 457 visa harvest.

Reading the letters and online comments around the Essendon situation,  you sense people feel they’ve been offered a free superseded version iPad for signing up to that handy Personal trainers course they were talked into by the nice man loitering amongst the Centrelink faggers, in the not guilty version handed down by the AFL tribunal against the Bomber’s players.

Move on! Move on! So say those still with faith in the process, most of them Don’s supporters. Shall it be those ex players that take matters into their own hands who will finally get that bean counter to talk in court when the regulatory authority itself could not even with back dated legislation?

You cant always trust the invigilator, especially if he’s got a needle in his hand.

Teletubbie image from Rooners Toy Photography via Flickr

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