Letter: Kyogle Council walks into a bar
KYOGLE Council walked into a bar.
"Anyone want to amalgamate with me?"
Lismore and Richmond Valley turn their backs - they'd heard stories about Kyogle and how desperate she was.
"Hey, Tweed, you want to give it a go? See if we'd be a perfect ... fit?" she flirtingly asked.
Tweed was desperate, but not THAT desperate.
"What about you, Tenterfield, you great, big LGA? We could move in, open a joint bank account, what do you say?"
But Tenterfield had heard a rumour that Kyogle needed bridge work and he'd end up with a STD (structurally transmitted debt).
Kyogle laid its assets across the table and sobbed.
"Won't somebody, anybody, amalgamate with me tonight? Take me, take me."
But every council just turned their backs, checked their wallets and put up boundaries.
Just then a tall, dark and handsome stranger came sauntering into the bar.
"What's your name little darling, and why do you cry so?" asked the newcomer.
"My name is Kyogle and no-one will amalgamate with me tonight," she sobbed
"Well, a pretty little lass like you, I'd be honoured to amalgamate and make you mine."
And he picked her up and the two of them lived happily ever after.
Oh, and the stranger's name?
His name was Queensland.