It had looked rocky approaching Marrawah, which brought out a rendition of Let There be Rock from Bonzo and Angry. I wasn’t too keen on the rocky surface, and was glad when Taz, Baz and Caz took us up in a perfect storm and landed us safely on the Tasmanian terra firma.
Travelling to Taz-mania couldn’t be Easier
After partaking in a latte in Port Latta, we carried on to Penguin, where Bonzo brushed up on his Penguinese.
They had a different dialect here to Kangaroo Island, but Bonzo could make himself understood.
We then headed south over Cradle Mountain, which was very beautiful, and reminded me of home as the cloud drifted in, so it felt nice and comforting.
Arriving in Taz-mania reminds me of Tor-crazier
It was so comfortable I dropped off to sleep, and when I awoke we had arrived in Taz-mania.
Taz said he had a full house, but we could stay at the Hotel Taz-mania, which was owned by Taz’s boss, Bushwhacker Bob.
He was a little grouchy,
but no Basil Fawlty,
Sybil must’ve been off her trolley
the Towers was a folly,
even if Manuel was jolly,
and then there was pretty Polly,
oh, don’t get me gossipy
about my ramble in sunny Torquay.
After unpacking we went down to the bar, and met some of the locals. I got on great with Wendell T. Wolf, who was very friendly.