Mick was attending his 4wd club's monthly meeting and had just told them he
couldn't make the upcoming Innamincka trip because his missus wouldn't let
him go.
After copping the under the thumb remarks and other derisive remarks Mick
left to go back home to the missus.
When Mick's mates started arriving to set up camp at Innamincka the
following week who should be there but Mick sitting up in front of the
Fire, swag rolled out, fishing rod in hand, camp oven roast stewing away
in a hot bed of Coolabah coals.
" How did ya talk ya missus into letting you go Mick?""
I didn't have to," was Mick's reply.
"When I left the meeting I went home and slumped down in my chair with a
beer to drown my sorrows. Then the missus snuck up behind me and covered my
eyes and said,


