The nulli secunda, ne plus ultra saga of the "Flying Porcelain Gusunder".
Circa 1953
It has always intrigued me how humor and the unexpected co-habit, how sometimes quite serious things can have a funny side; across the road from my Auntie and Uncles laundry and behind the Darlinghurst Police Station was a place where mentally disturbed people resided. One day a rather loud disturbance was heard emanating from the confines of this building, now the windows were secured, although not protected by a grill or heavy gauge steel mesh.
Loud voices and banging could be discerned by us boys as we stood on the corner near the laundry, followed by an even louder crash, followed by a very large painted pisspot smashing through one of the windows, followed by its disintegration on the footpath, and finally, followed by a very naked young man. He clambered from the window and dropped some three yards to the footpath, he sprinted for a passing tram just turning into Burton Street amongst loud exclamations of surprise and panic from the passengers, men yelled, ladies screamed, babies cried. He bordered the tram as people attempted to disembark and flee for safety, by this stage the tram driver has became aware of the unfolding drama and had stopped the tram, so in the front door of the tram and out the back goes the naked man defiantly on a mission. He is last seen disappearing over for hill and in the direction of ST VINCENTS HOSPITAL in his pursuit for freedom, followed by men in white coats.
We waited for his return, instead, the men in white coats returned. Some police cars from the adjoining police station took of in the general direction we never saw our new hero again. This incredible story was over in a flash, when ever I have a vision of the painted piddle pot, and I swear I can still the colored flowers adorning it’s surface, hurtling through the window, well, it brightens up my day.
Gusunder; def: Goes under the bed.
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