The Pat Raw Chronicles (cont’d)

Koala PatIf you’re new to Haught and haven’t yet got onto the official Haught Facebook page, you might not know who Pat Raw is. This makes you either very fortunate or very unfortunate, depending on how much you enjoy hearing about others’ bowel movements, D-grade sporting achievements and sex lives.

You can find out all about him by having a squizz at my introduction to Pat from August.

If you are familiar with Pat, but haven’t been keeping up with his latest hijinks, here are the highlights from August til the end of November, taken directly from Facebook:

3 August, 2012

Pat on the Olympics:

“I just truly believe… And I’ll preface this be – aw – now… by saying I’ve always been very good at sport, without ever really having the desire to take it to the next level… And I truly believe this is the worst overall display of – aw – athleticism, I guess you’d call it, I’ve seen since Barcelona. You know what I mean? Just not good. Not good.”


7 August, 2012

Pat: “I don’t know about you, [Agatha], but… I guess the best way of putting it would be -aw- let me think… well, really… I suppose you’d say: rub a dub dub, three men in a tub… Would you trend to agree?”

Agatha: “If I’m honest, I’m not convinced that I know what you mean.”


8 August, 2012

Woman on the tram has just opened a thermos of porridge. It smells funny. I wish Pat was around to provide a moral compass. My initial reaction was “Bit of decorum.” Now I wonder whether Pat would have asked her for a spoonful.


9 August, 2012

Pat is quieter than he used to be, but still loud enough for me to easily hear him from two bays away. Today he said his friend’s child had “passed dirt in the middle of the lounge room”.


13 August, 2012

Pat: “The Big Guy’s doing calisthenics, and he’s likin’ what he sees.”


15 August, 2012

Agatha wears a cardigan every day. I know it’s a cliche, but she smells of mothballs.

The driver keeps clearing his throat and unfortunately has the PA microphone on. Pat just leaned across to Agatha and said in not really a whisper at all: “Not nearly good enough. Disappointing state of circumstances, I think you’ll agree. As commuters, we have a right to something better than that.”

He then flicked his eyes my way and returned to his straight-backed upright position.

Later that morning…

I’m under riding instructions to sit down opposite Pat Raw. Agatha has taken that spot, but I’ve managed to get a seat beside her. Hilarity certain to ensue…

A little later still…

Pat: “I’m a statesman first and foremost.”


17 August, 2012

Pat Raw leaned over to Agatha this morning and sang Bambolea with bottom-of-his-heart earnestness. It was in his now-usual loud whisper and he had his eyes closed through much of it. At points he made to clap his hands above his head, but thought better of it and instead lightly touched them together.

At the end he proceeded to describe the performance in single-word sentences: “Powerful. Nuanced. Raw. Fusion.”


29 August, 2012

I’ve managed to get a seat next to Agatha again today. Next to Pat is a clumsy middle aged woman who fell into Pat’s lap while attempting to sit down. She seems flustered and keeps sighing loudly, but is actually just catching her breath.

Later that morning…

The woman next to Pat has earphones in and is mouthing words to music.

Pat just leaned forward and whispered (very quietly for him, but easily loud enough for me to hear) to Agatha: “Quick straw poll. How would you rate the breath of the woman sitting next to me?”

Agatha said: “I’m not entirely sure that’s an appropriate question.”

Pat went back into his upright position, looked at the woman next to him for a good five seconds, then placed his thumb and forefinger around his nose.


31 August, 2012

Agatha this morning:

“I imagine as a young man you must have been quite the catch.”

Pat: “Well… you might say – aw – now how would I put this… Whenever I put out some [Pat] burley, there was a feeding frenzy.”


1 September, 2012

At the pub discussing Pat. Wife just referred to him as Pat McGraw. (Only had a pint and a half.)


3 September, 2012

Pat just asked what Agatha’s name was. I’ve heard her tell him at least five times and I think I’ve even heard him use it.


4 September, 2012

Pat: “I’ve seen a lotta things in my life. I’ve lived big and… aw… loved fiercely… and gained a lotta, lotta wisdom. A lotta wisdom, you know.”

(OK, now release the dove and slip into unconsciousness.)


5 September, 2012

Pat: “Spring has sprung. The grass has riz. I wonder where my detractors is?”


11 September, 2012

No Agatha this morning so Pat has been putting the feelers out for potential confidants.

He just said “My name’s The Big Fella, I like slow walks on the beach, my favourite recording artist is Meat Loaf, and I think it’s rude when the person sitting next to you on the tram ignores – aw – how would you put it… perfectly civil questions.”

Now he’s squeezing his hair curtain into a pony tail and shaking his head exaggeratedly.


13 September. 2012

Pat: “I’ll set the scene. It’s the see-my finals. We’ve been the best team all year. But we’ve come into the game on the back of some big injuries to big time players. I’ve got a really bad shin, but I know I can’t let the team down, so I play. But I have to play goalshooter, also known as GS.

“So there’s the scene and – aw – now how do I put this delicately? I line up on a girl with some weight issues. I’m a bit too agile for her, despite my age, and by half time we’re four points up and I have 27 goals.

“OK so – maybe ask questions after I’ve finished, [Agatha], yeah? So, we go back on for the second half and a few minutes in I start to notice these odours. Quite – aw – horrible ones. And then they start to be accompanied by some noises and I realise Mrs Big (~bird squawk~) beside me is pushing gas.”I start to miss shots. We lose the lead and then start falling behind. Something needs to be done. As Tina Turner said, ‘We need a hero, and we need one now.'”So after her next expel-sion, I turn and ask ‘Did you check your flatus status before you left this evening?’ She doesn’t respond so I ask ‘How’s that cabbage diet working for you?’ At this point I notice she’s crying. (~bird squawk~)

“Anyway, long story short, I feel sorry for her and start deliberately fumbling the ball and letting her beat me, every second time or so. But, look, long story short… end of the day… we still win, Big Fella finishes with 40 – could easily have been 50 – and we’re into a grand final next week.”


18 September, 2012

Pat was wearing a baseball cap this morning.

He said to Agatha at one point “Did you ever play hand clap games as a child?”

Agatha: “I’m afraid I don’t… no… I would have to say the answer is no.”

Pat: “What you did was… well, at the end of the day it was the singing of a rhyme alongside a partner and the clapping of hands, knees and other parts of the body to -aw- how would you put it? I suppose keep up a wicked beat. The goal was to match your partner, sometimes clapping his or her hands as part of the sweet rhythm.”

Agatha: “I… I… it pains me to say it, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Pat: “The best way for me to explain is to demonstrate…”I was tempted to lean in and tell him about my experience at primary school with Who Stole the Cookies


19 September, 2012

Pat: “Got on the train yesterday evening and what do I see standing in front of me, but a pole. Right in the middle of the darned carriage. I’d never seen one before, but it’s there for people to hold on to, you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m not afraid to say it… I seriously thought about it.”

Agatha: “About…?

Pat then did a kind of seated shimmy.


24 September, 2012

Pat: “I wish I’d brought my whistle with me this morning because… let’s not beat around the bush here… I’m gonna commit a lot of butt fouls this morning.”

A few minutes later he sang ‘Good Morning’ as a direct reference to what he’d said earlier. He used these lyrics: “Good mornin’/Good mornin’/We’ve eaten beans the whole night through/Good mornin’/Good mornin’ to you (and you and you and you)”.

For the first ‘you’ he pointed a finger at Agatha and then he pointed at the stranger next to Agatha, then to someone standing next to them and then to the stranger sitting next to him.


26 September, 2012

Pat: “The cherry blossom is -aw- how would you put it? At the end of the day it’s an overrated piece of botanicana, for want of a less technical word. Give me a good old Aussie paperbark every day of the darn week.”


4 October, 2012

Pat shadow boxed the Metcard machine this morning then sat down and said to Agatha “Broken down, old has-been.”


8 October, 2012

Pat: “A eucalyptus leaf blew into my mouth on the weekend and I thought to myself ‘Why not?’ and gave it a chew. At the end of the day, it tasted -aw- now how would you put it? I guess, passable would be a pretty fair description.”

Agatha: “So a career as a koala bear beckons?”

Pat: “Whey-HEY! Little [Agatha String]! She’s up and about today!


11 October, 2012

Pat sang a politicised version of ‘I Want to Wish You a Merry Christmas’ this morning all about “political correctness gone mad”. The refrain went “I want to wish you a merry Christmas – but I’m not allowed to any more” followed by “fe-licked la di da”.

At the end Agatha said it was “very moving” and “more people need to heed that message”.


12 October, 2012

Pat: “Forget all this AFL trade palava, let’s talk about weeknight netball trade period. It’s hotting up, and the Big Guy is attracting a lotta attention, you know what I mean?”

Agatha: “I’m not entirely clear, I must admit.”

Pat: “Let’s just say a couple of higher division teams have liked what they’ve seen over at Court 12.”

Agatha: “I see. No, in fact, to be honest, I don’t.”

Pat: (exasperated) “A couple of B and A Division sides have offered – aw – how would you put it? Inducements to… you know… bring me over to Court 1 and 2 next season.”

Agatha: “Oh my heavens. Financial inducements?”

Pat: “And others.”

18 October, 2012

Holy shit.

After being absent or strangely quiet for the last few days Pat interrupted Agatha mid sentence to yell “I DON’T HAVE TO HAVE A BACK OPERATION!”

Agatha sort of gargled a half-embarrassed conclusion to her sentence and a half-congratulation.

Pat held out his hand for a high five but Agatha didn’t have the requisite street knowledge and left him hanging. So Pat said “What the hey” and started marching down the tram corridor seeking high fives and repeating the good news. One bloke said “That’s awesome man” and turned the high five into a clasped-hand semi-embrace. Others on the tram shook their heads in disgust.

When I got off he was singing Celebrate Good Times.


29 October, 2012

Pat: “Butt foul for me right there. Sorry folks.”


31 October, 2012

Pat today demonstrated how “uneconomical” tram conductors were by “pretending to be one”.

He moved through the tram saying ‘tickets please” in a very quiet voice. When nobody took any notice of him he returned to his seat and said to Agatha in a self-satisfied way, “A simple case of supply and demand.”


2 November, 2012

Today Pat told a story about “getting payback” on his mortal enemy at work. The vengeful act consisted of him chewing a Milk Arrowroot biscuit “into a thin but lightly granulated paste” and depositing it on his rival’s desk chair in “a cigar-shaped log”.

After Agatha, repulsed, said “In aid of what?” Pat peevishly told her “Well, I’ll tell you something for nothing: it went down really well in the office. A lotta lotta mirth right there that day.”

He then folded his arms and didn’t talk again before I got off.


7 November, 2012

Pat has been mostly dull today, which gives me an opportunity to dispel what I now know to be commonly held misconceptions:

Pat is not a corpulent man. When he refers to himself as The Big Guy he’s usually referring to his height (but sometimes something else – *bird squawk*).

Pat is not a bald version of Biff Pelican. Pat constantly talks about his high position at a well-known global megacorporation and usually wears a smart (albeit ill-fitting) suit – without a tie. He talks about ‘tipples’ and ‘little sips’ of alcohol. Admittedly, he has boasted about wetting his pants.

Pat doesn’t come up with one extraordinary pronouncement after another. He jabbers on loudly for much of the tram ride, but only one in a hundred things are worth relating. I sometimes don’t see him at all and am occasionally too far away to hear him.


13 November, 2012

This morning, Agatha and Pat were sitting in different seat bays.Pat was trying to strike up a conversation with the stranger opposite him about “The parable of Judas”.


15 November, 2012

A woman on the tram received a call on her mobile this morning and quickly began to sob. It was obvious to anybody within earshot that she had just been told a close relative had died.

Pat, again without Agatha, and presumably bursting at the seams to attract attention, waited a few seconds before announcing loudly, “I think I know the remedy to this particular ailment.” He then stood up, actually cracked his knuckles (holy shit – the man is a cartoon character) and walked over to the weeping woman’s seat bay. At this point he performed one of the most idiotic dances I’ve ever seen, putting his thumbs under his chin and fanning out his other fingers while hopping from one foot to the other and singing a tuneless jingle: “Da da da da da doodle um da da do doodle um da da doo day”, etc.

I’ll give him this – the woman certainly stopped crying, but only to look on in abject horror before another commuter yelled “Sit down, you fucking fool!” and another got up and pushed Pat in the chest.Pat began to bellow protests but five or six people shouted over the top of him, most telling him to get off the tram.He finally took their advice, yelling “You people are sick!” as he alighted.


16 November, 2012

I wonder where Pat was this morning…


19 November, 2012

Pat’s wasn’t on board again today and I’ve just heard a conversation between Agatha and a woman of about Agatha’s age:

Agatha: ‘He told me some months ago that he got his work done faster than his colleagues and spent his spare time in the computer room at his work writing a work of fiction.’

>Woman: ‘Oh! What a limelighter. Did he tell you about this novel?’

Agatha: ‘It was what he called a trilogy. The protagonist was an IT worker who… battles mythical beasts at night time.’

Woman: [shrieking laugh] ‘What sort of mythical beasts?’Agatha: ‘Oh, I don’t even know. Something called oaks. And I think he mentioned a kind of vampire.’Woman: ‘How pre-POSS-terous! What a path-ET-ic creature.’

Agatha: ‘He said he had written what he described as the ‘denouement’ first. It involved him killing Stalin, who had been reanimated by grem-a-lins.’

Woman: ‘Oh! What absurdity. I suppose he thought it would be a best-seller.’

Agatha: ‘Well, let’s just say he was… not very quietly confident.’

Then not only the other woman but several prior in the vicinity of the conversation laughed.

Including me.


22 November, 2012

Pat hasn’t been seen since ‘You people are sick’.

Agatha continues to relate grand stories to her new tram-mate (and bystanders), however.

Agatha: ‘When I first met him… well… within a few days he apparently felt comfortable enough to describe, sometimes in detail, his bowel movements.’

Woman: ‘Oh, the GROT! THE GROT! What a repugnant creature.’

Agatha: ‘Indeed. He now and then described it as if it was a fine wine.’

Woman: ‘WHAT!? How? Why?

Agatha: ‘Oh, nonsense like ‘I detected distinct tobacco notes this morning’ and the like.’

Woman: ‘THE GROT! You should have reported this GROT to the police! Dis-GUSS-ting!’


23 November, 2012

Agatha: ‘On one occasion, he… pardon me… passed wind very loudly and… tried to mask the racket by yelling apparently random and unrelated words over the top of his bodily… uh… expulsion. Some were related to his profession, others were things he could observe out the window.’Woman: ‘Vile! The VILE creature. VILE!’

In the comments section below this post, Haught reader Julianne Rice said:

“I think Agatha is rather enjoying herself… In fact I think it’s only a matter of time before Agatha stands and sings a melancholic solo after which her fellow commuters will leap to their feet in an energetic choral and acrobatic display. Pat Raw: The Musical.

Sounded like a good idea to me.

More to follow…

Related Posts

The Pat Raw Chronicles – concluded(?)

Dumb Ways to Die (the Demons version)

The nice guy campaign

My email to myki


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