Yeah, okay, I know what you’re thinking; “Don’t tell me Brad Webb’s lost his marbles and kept Crichton on for yet another year with his ranting and raving?” Well you’re right, I’m back, and what makes it even worse for all those Victorians is; Despite the fires, I’m pulling up my Queensland stumps, packing my brown cardboard suitcase of good quality, my little Yorky bitch Molly, Goldfish Ned, and heading your way … Kelly Country that is.

Yes folks, I’ve had enough of boring bloody blue sky and sunshine everyday; the persistent and irritating sounds of crashing surf, and might I just add, sick to death at the sight of another swaying palm tree or tanned and sculptured bikini clad babe. Just give me a home among the gum trees, with lots of plum trees, a sheep for two and a kangar……… er… Crikey! You know what I mean; those friendly people, rolling hills, and the historic and majestic presence of north eastern Victoria. How could I, in all good conscience, fully immerse myself in the story that is Kelly from the remoteness of some beach house on the Sunshine Coast? How could I possibly become a full blooded Ironoutlaw roving reporter and do Mr. Webb proud, when I can’t even go a bloody roving to report anything?

I have already made careful plans this coming month for when I’ve settled into my modest country abode, and will take positive steps to rectify this small oversight. I shall make haste and immediately sign up for a quick lesson in Mrs.Grubwinkler’s Flashy but Cheap Riding Academy for Queensland Beginners. After I’ve completed my intense 30 minute course and with notebook and box brownie in hand, I’ll throw caution to the wind, leg to saddle, spur to horse’s bum or whatever it’s called, and ride madly off like an Ironoutlaw roving reporter possessed, ‘cross every hill, valley, and mountain range that constitutes this vast land that is Kelly.

Like the Purple Pumpernickel, my eyes and ears will be here, there, and everywhere. From the stolen walls of the old Beechworth Gaol housing development, to the new upgraded and environmentally friendly Stringybark Creek Tourist Venue, with its bbqs, new seating and viewing arrangements, not to mention the pretty yellow rock path. No stone shall be left unturned in my relentless quest for a story. Onwards shall I ride to Glenrowan and to the Ann Jones’ Inn site with its camouflaged resealable flip-top lid and upgraded beautified siege surrounds. Maybe even a chat with Mr. Briggs and the bearded wizard of all things Kelly.

I shall roam throughout the north east countryside, seeking out the many public houses and wineries, and listening intently to tales of Kelly from the mouths of inebriated old locals chit chatting in backroom bars. Just the thought brings joy and a skip to my old ticker. Oh, so much to see and do. Mr. Webb is certain to give me a pay rise. But I can’t sit here blustering all day; there’s packing to be done and much to organise. So I s’pose until then, it’s gotta be ….Farewell Queensland….. Hello Kelly Country and …

STAY STRONG VICTORIA!