“Les the windmill expert” by Doctor Chris

There was this guy, Les. He was a windmill expert & he lived in Western QLD. I met him in the 1960’s.

By expert, I mean this guy could dismantle a windmill with a 21-foot wheel sitting… on top of a forty-foot tower… on his own.

Then he would load all the bits on his old truck and drive hundreds of miles and

re-erect it on his own.

“Not bad,” you say?

Well just remember the “head” (not on his cock) of the mill probably weighed

a couple of tons.

If these imperial measurements have you confused… too bad. 

Anyway Les didn’t say a word while he worked. But once he finished and sat

down on a log for a cuppa, dude, could he tell a story.!

Anyway, this one day I thought I would test him out. “Hey Les,” I asked. “You ever seen a flying saucer?”

Without even blinking he replied. ” Yes son, there are two kinds… mother ships and little ones..”

“How do you know? “ I asked.

“Well,” Les said. “I was out the back of Mitchell in the mulga country erecting this windmill and I looked up in the sky and spotted this huge flying saucer. Shortly

after this little saucer left the mother ship and landed about 40 foot in front of me. Three little green men got out and walked towards me”

“Are you Les the windmill expert?” they asked. “We need a windmill put up on Mars.”

Les said that he was way too busy to go up to Mars, so he sketched out in the red bull dust how to erect a windmill . They seemed pretty happy with that and took off back to the mother ship, which promptly vanished!!

 

The end.

Mmmmm, beef shin

Mmmmm, beef shin

And now for the beef shin…

Yes it is certainly starting to get a wee bit chilly in my neck of the woods. Nipples are standing at attention, penises are becoming inverted at even the though of a jaunt in the cold air and the carnies are returning to their caves to hibernate for the winter. Their dirty little caves…

Jack Frost is certainly nipping at our heels.

When Jack Frost comes nipping at my heels I like to double back on him and flat foot kick him straight in his chilly little face, and then hit him with the broom while he’s on the ground, and then… Or sometimes I like to go down to Scotty the butcher and give him 25 bucks in exchange for two big assed beef shins. Life gets good right here.

The shin can go into the oven with pretty much anything (except Lego because a. Lego is made of plastic and b. plastic will melt in the oven), the only thing it truly requires is for you to have a little patience and let it do its thing. And for this it shall reward you with an awesomely sticky and flavoursome piece of beef to share with friends and family, or consume by yourself if it is “caveman night” at your place.

Today I am using the usual suspects; onion, carrot, celery, garlic and anchovies, with a few beetroot thrown in for good measure. And I’m even going to share a bottle of red wine with it, just because that’s the kind of guy I am.

  • Season the beef and get some colour on it in a med-high oven. This should take 20-30 minutes
  • Add your vegetables and roast for a further 30 minutes, until the veg are just start to colour
  • The beef is probably quite thirsty after all of that oven time, so give him a little drink. Half a bottle of red wine should do the trick
  • Cover the beef with alfoil and back into the oven at 180C for another hour or so
  • After an hour pull the foil back and have a little peek. Poke the meat and see if it is starting to yield. You can take the foil off and give it another 20 minutes in the oven. If the meat still feels tough leave the foil on and put it back in the oven for another 30 minutes or until it is falling off the bone. If the meat is not tender this will be the crappiest meal of your life… or this week at least anyway
  • All you have to do now is eat it in your face. Creamy mash would be a good side dish, or even a leafy salad if you’re getting a bit round in the face (not fat, because that wouldn’t be PC)
The beef

The beef

The vegetables

The vegetables

The beef and vegetables

The beef and vegetables

The end product

The end product. A world of sticky goodness