Tasmanian Tigers, or Devils.? A shocking trip into the deadly and unknown....

[juddles]

Hello all,

it is with rather a heavy heart that I write this, as my mind is filled with dread…..

Some of you would be aware of my eternal battle against Evil – in 2019 exemplified by my close call in outwitting the evil Botanist in his attempt to destroy Chile. This path of righteousness and sacrifice was not something I chose, but am now eternally enmeshed with. I thought I would have some respite after that last narrow victory, but as they say, the plot now thickens….

You may also be aware that I am a passionate defender of the world’s last remaining environmental assets – I literally fight for old growth trees, and endangered defenceless critters. So when I was suddenly invited to get a “private” tour to see a top secret and hidden last population of Tasmanian tigers, I was instantly on the hook.

The Thylacine is possibly amongst my most revered passions. Australia has a unique and spectacular history of fauna, and the sudden offering, the sudden chance, to potentially see and confirm what I have always believed, that they still exist, was an impossible magnet to resist. Fears immediately arose in me – was I being seducted, using my weakest point, into a trap?

The invite was cleverly made through one of those apparently innocuous channels. By a geologist. Even as I type these words my fear of a trap is growing. Who in the world gets invited to anything interesting by a bloody geo???? In hindsight I should have seen that basic logical flaw or discrepancy from reality far earlier…

But alas, I agreed.

Have already locked in tickets. Travel MCY-SYD-MEL-HBA via QF points redemption in J in the early New Year. An itinerary chosen through scant availability of QF redemption seats at that time of year, even as a P1. Likewise the return. Same sequence – HBA-MEL-SYD-MCY. I have a chilling feeling that the return tickets will be lost :O

Anyway, through sheer belief in Karma, in Destiny, and having a personality that prevents me from avoiding destruction, I will make this trip.

I have faced criminal gangsters in Venezuela, assasination attempts in Senegal, encounters with left wing guerrillas deep in the Colombian jungle, and actually have consumed many more than 500 NP inspired salads.

What could possibly harm me in simple Tasmania??

 

[JohnM]

Hmmm... a dastardly dual trap has been laid .

Bizarrely, I too, have been drawn into The Geo's Tasmanian Dark Web. Nude swims in mid-winter, scallops that can eat you, home-grown raspberry Triffids ready to strangle, toes of corpses sticking out of spas, copious gin to preserve those corpses, beaches devoid of cough sapiens... gaaah! - what Paleolithic evil awaits in that lump of rock cut off from the world and in its primitive life-forms that have resisted civilisation for eons?

But I will avoid the dreaded NP salad... - unless my PER-MEL or MEL-PER UPGs comes through.

 

[juddles]

......nude swims in mid-winter, scallops that can eat you....

Oh my god!

Just as i desired peace, it appears the hound dogs from hell are not just looming, but will be present and even more powerful.

This entrance from the Botanist has forced a rapid rethink of pre-trip preparedness. Most of us Aff's dwell on other gadgets, but my packing list is perhaps novel.

I was calmly and and confidently packing my 10mm Glock, but have now ditched that for the ever faithful Sig Sauer 9mm - a piece that has never failed me in spite of confronting many demons.

I am foundering. So the Botanist will be there? I bested him in the last exchange, but I suffer each time I attempt sleep with the revolting reality that beast introduced to my life. And now he rears his head with taunting and hideous concepts. "nude swims in mid-winter" and " scallops that can eat you"!!?? In which dimension are these hideous concepts born?

But as always, the attempts of the evil to psych me out will fail. These profanities just make me stronger.

I will prevail.

 

[drron]

I too have been enticed in by the Geologist's wiles.Beware the offer of alcohol.You end up wondering what happened for the last 8 hour.
When I got home I had a total body CT scan.Fortunately I had not lost any body parts.

 

[RooFlyer]

Meh. There is ‘hospitality’ in all flavours and sizes.

 

[JohnM]

T-11d and counting...

 

[Hvr]

I do hope someone counts them in and ensures everybody returns.

This will be an epic TR and maybe even evidence for the coroner's court.

 

[JohnM]

Meh. There is ‘hospitality’ in all flavours and sizes.

View attachment 201359

I presume that bottle of Bundy was one taken off the pallet merely for illustrative purposes?

If not, we are going to have a TDP* to contend with...

*Tense and Difficult Person

 

[RooFlyer]

It’s been in my liquor cabinet for well over a decade. I can’t even remember how I acquired it. I’d be happy if it found an appreciative audience.

if anyone drinks Baileys that would be good too. My dear niece somehow thinks I like it and gives me a bottle every Christmas. They are mounting up, now.

 

[JohnM]

if anyone drinks Baileys that would be good too.

Tasmanian evil knows no bounds...

Beware a Paleolithic ruse, Big Man. He could to fill the spa with that stuff he's been saving, entice us to go for some Dark mof_esque swim like those kinks down there do, drown us in it and photograph our creamy toes dangling limply over the edge...

 

[JohnM]

T-10d and counting...

 

[RooFlyer]

I’d better get some practice in

 

[juddles]

Meh. There is ‘hospitality’ in all flavours and sizes.

View attachment 201359

Oh My God!!

What are these??

To most, it could fallaciously appear to be a simple and well intentioned offering of treats that would seem hospitable, but my alarm grows even stronger as this unique selection has revealed to me that the “host” has done some serious homework on me!

The Bundy makes sense given the knowledge that he has also invited my arch-nemesis to the party. The last time I drank normal Bundy, it was with two true friends. Both ended up in hospital… Clearly RooFlyer is seeking/desiring/facilitating true mayhem.

The inclusion of a Valle de Uco malbec reveals he knows my inner secrets, and that this varietal and region is my most revered passion in wine ☹

The Penfolds, especially in the magnum-sized bottle, is clearly a deliberate act of provocation – a real SLAP IN THE FACE for me. Because I have never ever tried a Penfolds. Is he mocking me?

But the unexpected barb, the coldly horrifying one, is that monster that lurks third from the left. Such a small, even petite, bottle. Meek label. But with the truly terrifying words emblazoned on it:

“Tasmanian raspberry wine”.

That image, that little bottle, is sending cold shivers up my spine. What will it do!!??

My first reaction was going to be to retaliate to that post with photos of MY treasures that I bring to the party – the afore-mentioned Sig Sauer, my 8 inch razor-sharp Bladerunner hunting knife (still uncleaned from a recent victory), and my last minute grab-items – a collection of hand grenades. But doing so could be the reason for his goading – to get me to divulge trade secrets. I will not fall for that. I will instead use his slipped info to my advantage (tomorrow will get 10kg of chlorine pellets to sanitise that death trap pond)

I will quietly try to prepare for a rerun of 2019 and the Botanist – a trip where I always found I was behind the eightball. But I still prevailed.

But even now I know I am starting out from a bad position. Am already unable to sleep. I do not want to enter an affray of intent unknown, whilst bewildered and fatigued. The Geologist has invited the Botanist and the Saint to a common place??

Is this the start of a hideous and morbid reality TV show where the participants perish and you can only view it using bitcoin? My mind is spinning!!

Even as I tap on the keyboard I feverishly add even more grenades to my luggage…..

 

[juddles]

I do hope someone counts them in and ensures everybody returns.

This will be an epic TR and maybe even evidence for the coroner's court.

An outcome in a Coroner's Court I can deal with - but I suspect this is more in the field of Area 51....

 

[Major]

What, no Tasmanian Gin ???

 

[drron]

Oh no not the Saint!I It has been good knowing you juddles.

 

[juddles]

Found a jacket with pockets - so more space for even more grenades....

But am worrying

 

[JohnM]

T-8d and counting...

 

[JohnM]

I'm going to pack a couple of rounds of 750 cal. ordnance .

 

[juddles]

Hello all,

you may have noticed that I had “gone quiet” on this thread this week. This was because I have been very very busy – planning and scheming and planning and scheming….

After a few sleepless nights contemplating, trying to guess the wicked plans of either the Botanist, or more likely, the new evil – The Geo, I decided that I would make a pre-emptive strike. I thought up a plan that would stuff both of those coughs, even before they could get whatever plan they were thinking off the ground.

In the absence of understanding what was the evil intent, I decided to work off the basics. It is clear that The Geo is orchestrating SOMETHING that requires both me and the Botanist to arrive in his home ground, from which point no doubt we would be led into something sinister….

So starting from this certain concept, I hatched a plan myself to foil ANYTHING. And even I was proud of my own idea – a plan that would both fatally interfere with the Geo’s plans, but also allow me to settle an outstanding duty with regards to the Botanist

For those not privvy to the minutia, after much travel, it turned out that I and the Botanist would be arriving in the Dark Island on the same flight – a small skip MEL – HBA. In a rare moment of lapseness, the Botanist advised that he would be travelling in Y. This small fact eventually led me to see an opportunity….

For those that do not know the Botanist closely, he is a simple creature in some regards, especially in relation to his snobbery with wines and seating allocations. And he let it slip that he was in Y!! The chink in his armour became my chance!

And so, over the past few days, I had orchestrated by own plan, that even to me is breathtaking in its pure genius….

My first step was to get a J seat on that unfortunate flight. The second was to advise him of this

I knew what his reaction would be – in this eternal game of one-upmanship, he would easily be led to take my next bait. Sure enough, he then said he was seeking an upgrade.

By the way, a critical advantage I have here is my ownership of almost the entire Qantas Special Services Team – the people that bow to true stellar flyers like myself. I gave them the simple order – on the MEL-HBA flight, put me in 1A, block the seat next to me, block 1D & 1F, and give the Botanist his upgrade, but put him back in row 2

Yet again, he swallowed the bait, and next he was whinging that he could not get the seat next to me.

I graciously offered to use my power, and get him moved to 1C. And of course, driven by his selfish pride, he leapt at this. So I had my SST staff move him forward, and he was then smug.

What he did not know, despite his fancy use of Expert Flyer and similar, is that I also silently moved myself back to 2C, directly behind him. And had 1A blocked again, so he would be unaware I had shifted.

This all worked like a dream. Here I had it, the perfect opportunity to do that pre-emptive strike. The Botanist cluelessly happy to get in the front row, me as a surprise to be seated behind him. I retrieved my trusty length of piano wire that I save for such occasions, and was content.

Actually, “content” is not the true and full feeling that I felt. This was so much better than “content”. For the last few days I have had interrupted sleep due to the constant grin of expectation that I am unable to stop. I erupt into uncontrolled, truly deep, sheer laughter! This was just too good!!

Not so much for the elation I would feel as I drew the wire back, finally ending his career of mayhem. Not for the delicious sound that I imagined thousands of times that his head would make as it fell into the myriad array of “tasting” glasses he would have on his tray.

The true joy was contemplating the look on the face of the Geo when I disembarked and met him, casually holding the head of the Botanist under one arm. To see the expression of anguish when he realized that all his plans were foiled even before they began….

I also have enjoyed many moments of not-so-quiet fantasizing at how the next few days would have been – me sitting next to the Geo at his mansion, him trying to rapidly back-pedal on his plans, whilst the whole time, as we ironically shared wine bottles between two instead of three, the head of the Botanist would sit at the coffee table as an obscene “conversation piece”

OMG, how delicious that would have been.

But alas, at the last moment, I have decided to actually let this journey run for a bit yet, as I with my new-found confidence, I feel again secure and now blighted by the curiosity of what the Geo’s plan actually is.

I decided to openly share the details of my cunning plan, now abandoned, not to skite, but with a far darker, and almost as satisfying outcome.

I know, that from now, the pleasures of Row 1 have been for ever removed from the tentacles of the Botanist. He will never, EVER, be able to ride comfortably in those seats. He will not be able to sit there without looking over his shoulder.

Forever banished to seeking the last row, as befits him….