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The final insult

18/11/2021

8 Comments

 
PictureThe backyard dunny - modelled here by Raymond Tyrrell - was a feature of life in many country towns until fairly recently.
By John Coldebella
 

ALMOST 50 years ago, work commenced on Wonthaggi's sewerage system. Up till that time, most toilets in the town were located on the back lane boundary of house blocks. Human waste fell into a circular bitumen coated galvanised metal can 35cm in height and 36 cm in diameter, giving it the approximate equivalent volume of about 36 litres, or four laundry buckets.

​Collected once a week, this created some logistical problems for large families, which were numerous in those days. This may have contributed to the practice of urinating on lemon trees in order to preserve the can's capacity for solid waste.

 


Had the Covid 19 pandemic occurred back then, we would not have seen the rush on toilet paper that occurred in our supermarkets last year. Most people used newspaper which was often home delivered. Some people tore it into neat squares while others left it whole to provide reading material.

​
These toilets were a breeding ground for blowflies, and Australian vernacular which came in two forms: that which was acceptable in polite society and that which was considered vulgar. Thus, a toilet could be a dunny, thunder box, or a shit house. The can could be a sanitary pan, a dunny can or a shit can. The means of weekly collection was performed by a night cart or a shit cart. Perhaps not surprisingly, those who use vulgar language are referred to as potty mouths in some circles of polite society.

Over time, the term “shit can” was transformed from a noun to a verb. To shit can someone was to criticise, demean, disparage or ridicule them. This, by sheer volume, was more effective than simply hanging shit on, or slinging shit at someone. Another expression which arose to express the effectiveness or force of something was 'like shit out of a Shang-eye' (slingshot), which can invoke some interesting imagery.

 
Meanwhile, and seemingly unrelated, the local football rivalry was full of passion during those years of the early 1970s. The Wonthaggi Blues, (the Japs) and the Wonthaggi Rovers (Rovers dogs) looked forward to their encounters. The outcome gave one side or the other a licence to shit can the other until they met again. In polite society, this is known as bragging rights.​
PictureThe ultimate trophy of disrespect
I haven't been able to establish who came up with the idea, but some bright spark with a sense of humour conceived of a trophy which would be presented to the losing team. It was a shit can mounted on a plinth. As a seller of the Herald, an afternoon Melbourne publication, I witnessed these presentations to both teams. The Rovers drank at Taberner's hotel after their games and the Blues had the Caledonian. After consuming a “gutful of piss”, the current holders of the trophy would gleefully carry it to the sacred turf of the rival team and figuratively rub their noses in it. The demeanours of the losing players varied from begrudging smiles to sullen despair. Eventually, the can was replaced by a more conventional plaque which was presented to the winning team.
 
Some took the rivalry so seriously, they withdrew their interest and support from local football when the two teams were finally forced to amalgamate due to declining numbers. I can think of at least half a dozen less fanatical characters who played for both teams.
 
That was half a century ago, but the spirit of shit canning lives on. Some of these cans survive and these days their presentation is made via social media. To this day, when enquiring as to how a football team has performed, you can still receive the answer “They played shithouse”.
 
Another casualty of the implementation of the sewerage system was the loss of tank Hill. Situated on the south side of town just off Reed Crescent, it seemed like a mountain to a small child, offering a view of the ocean at Harmers Haven as well as an excellent overhead view of South Wonthaggi. The hill was carted away one truckload at a time to provide a bedding for the sewerage pipes. It was a sad loss for those who remember. Such a proposal put forward today would be met with protests and petitions, but back then people didn't realise what power they had in relation to such matters. ​

8 Comments
Deb Le Cerf
20/11/2021 06:47:36 am

Shit hot article John! Came across this day after I read yours: https://hakaimagazine.com/features/why-shipping-shit-is-a-good-idea/

Reply
John Coldebella
20/11/2021 10:51:31 am

Thanks Deb for the link. Most interesting. So what we thought wasn't worth shit is actually worth a shitload if we know how to use it properly.

Reply
Miriam Strickland
20/11/2021 01:35:55 pm

I've been really enjoying your writing John, and this one is shit hot!

Reply
John Coldebella.
21/11/2021 11:29:01 am

Thank you Miriam for your kind words.

Reply
Sandra Thorley
20/11/2021 05:41:52 pm

Thanks for your article John. It brought back memories of when I was about 8 or 9 years old growing up in Warragul and going down to the outhouse at night with a torch but in my haste forgetting to check if the seat was down and sure enough I ended up falling backwards into the *#,!,!*#! My dear Dad had left the seat up! We had visitors at the time and I remembering having to rush into the bathroom and Mum helping me to clean up under the bath tap. It has been a family joke for years.

Reply
John Coldebella
21/11/2021 11:45:00 am

Thank you Sandra for your comment. Your recollection made me realise that volumes could be written about what happened on the way to, from, and whilst sitting in the old outhouse. I'm also reminded of mischievous children during fire cracker season.

Reply
joan woods
22/11/2021 04:42:47 pm

Great article. It reminded me of the time I was four and was caught on the pan as the pan was taken as I was filling it..

Reply
Catherine Watson
3/12/2021 06:49:55 pm

John I was feeling shitty, but this made me laugh. Thanks!

Reply



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