I’m sitting in a shopping mall enjoying my first flat white after weeks of instant coffee in the Great Sandy Desert and just idly watching the world pass me by. My focus is drawn to a display set up by Woodside Energy, attended by well presented black and white guys and girls.
Hovering nearby is a feral hippy chick – you know the type – tie-dye clothes, metal in face, dread-locked hair and a general dirty unwashed demeanour. Add to the mix her love child – a confused and stressed looking toddler. The hippy chick’s intensity permeates through the crowd as she circles the Woodside display like a hyena trying to flog some other animals recent kill.
She finally settles on a black guy and attacks. Voices raised…black guy embarrassed and looking around for support before he is chewed up and spat out. Shoppers hurry past not wanting to be involved and the love child starts crying. Hippy chick yells at a girlfriend – “take her for a walk up the other end” and turns and continues her attack.
She eventually leaves and the crowd quietens.
I had travelled thus far without the company of my wife. She had flown into Broome that morning to join me on my travels through the Kimberlys and the Pilbara. Having prioritized her husband just below grandkids and quilting, she could only afford five weeks with me. Knowing that a trip to Broome was definitely going to cost me some dosh in purchasing pearls in some form or other for my bride, I agreed to do something I’m not normally inclined to do – that is, subject myself to a tourist venue visit.
We went to Willie Creek pearl farm where I made the traditional husband type contribution to the local pearling industry by buying my bride some pearl earrings. My wife viewed them with pleasure, I viewed them in terms of petrol tank refills – quiet a few actually.
Anyway, on the way to Willie Creek we had to pass a feral road block staffed with hippy chicks mates. They weren’t local and had travelled from all parts of the world in the modern equivalent of the old Kombi Hippy transporter, the ubiquitous Wicked Camper vans. I had come across these Feral Green/Hippy movers all down the west coast as I drove north. German, French and US ferals all heading to Broome for a marijuana smoke-in and protest.
Now the locals at Broome are having a debate about whether they should allow Woodside to continue with their James Point Development. The Kimberley Land council has voted to accept Woodside’s offer and have OK’d the project to go ahead on their land. Some in Broome are against this as they believe it will have a negative effect on tourism and while they are local it is, in my opinion, their right to debate the issue.
What isn’t right is feral hippies coming from all over Australia and overseas to simply stop progress. They couldn’t give a damn about the local aborigines and how they view the project as a way out of their troubles; they couldn’t give a damn about jobs for Aussies or additional infrastructure coming to a remote town and they certainly don’t care about those who want to keep tourism the sole income stream in Broome except, where it suits them to use the locals to hinder progress.
They just don’t want any commercial development anywhere to impact on their Utopia that doesn’t include humans other than themselves. The hippies/feral greens don’t even like Broome. it is to hot, remote and poor country for growing marijuana.
Should be open season on the bastards.
Too true mate! I was just reading about this on the weekend. Greens Senator (unbelievable) Scott Luddite spoke about in Parliament. He said all the protests were being conducted by local people and with utmost respect for local Aboriginals…lies:
Mate, I had to drive past the ferals at the turn off to the development site – afterwards I felt I needed to garage the car in an autoclave in case some of their diseases or filth stayed with me.
They are definitely not there for the benefits of Australians – black or white
Yer. How hygienic are those nose piercings for god sake. My sister brought this bloke around for dinner once. He had an ear ring. Dad stared at it silently all night, fuming. Without warning he reached over and yanked it off. Yes there was blood, and tears. My brother and I laughed. Mum was disgusted. Sister fled to her room. Mr piercing did not return :) this was in the eighties.
Was in Broome last week. Wondered why we saw more than usual of those stupid camper vans heading to town. Ridiculous idea: so-called graffiti to promote the idea they are rebels, while of course they are all the same in their preference. Like their clothes.
Picked up a book called Zero Hour in Broome. Place got flattened in WWII. Didn’t know 86 people got dead.
Onto Darwin, checking out WWII sites. Keep up the good work Kev.
When are you due back in civilisation? We need to organise a beer again soon. Been far too bloody long.
Ignore the pious
words of carbon-hating Greens
who ignore the hopes
of poorest peoples;
their actions shew that they are