Viruses Archives - thegoodwills.com

A garden of viruses

Dear reader, please wear a mask and don rubber gloves before reading this none-too-subtle discourse about viruses and how little medical science knows about the common garden variety.

Since I tested negative to Coronavirus, after sitting in the car for two hours on December 28, alas, I still feel like shit. Excuse the language but there is no more apt description. Those lacking in empathy might dismiss it with “Oh it’s just a cold – build a bridge and get over it.”

Not that simple, sorry. There are more than 200 different cold viruses, and despite medical science’s skills in almost every other department, we don’t have a cure for any of them. The common cold virus lasts six to 10 days and the best advice is to stay in bed, or at least stay home until you feel better. There are many remedies which arguably speed the healing process and they include plenty of sleep, plenty of fluids, exercise (which seems counter-intuitive), and other more desperate measures like eating a raw onion and listening to jazz for 30 minutes.

I felt great on Christmas Eve, cooked pizzas for the family, tried to find something intelligent to watch on TV and failed. Went to bed early.

Christmas Day I woke with that post nasal drip thing – you know the one? Within hours my nose was running and I was going ‘ah-choo f***’, spreading germs around the house. I participated in Christmas lunch, feeling gradually worse as time went by. Boxing Day was bad.

“Perhaps you’d better go and get tested,” advised my sister-in-law, the nurse.

I did so on my return home, knowing I’d have a shorter wait than people were experiencing in Brisbane, where we spent Christmas.

While this was going on, reports were dribbling in that our Christmas lunch guest were succumbing to ‘#ahchoof***’. I got a negative test result within 24 hours so that was a relief. Or was it really?

I still felt like shit and Christmas lunch guests, including SWAGACF, were feeling equally miserable.

Cousin Alice rang to say she’s sorry she missed Christmas lunch (in isolation awaiting a Covid test), which proved to be negative. My brother-in-law started referring to me as ‘the East Coast distributor’.

As many people found out, there was something ‘going round’ at Christmas.

I chatted online to a friend who was dreading catching whatever was going through his tribe of grandchildren. Later he texted:

“I’ve got the wog – about to get a RAT test. Result in a bit. Timer on. And…Negative.”
“You were on the spot by proxy at this historic event.”

I spent much of the past week in and out of bed, binge-watching Succession and marvelling at the acumen of Shakespearean actor Brian Cox as the amoral, ruthless media baron. I also spent time wondering how I got this thing. Didn’t I wear a mask when going anywhere? Didn’t I wash my hands assiduously?

The best advice to avoid the common cold is just that – wash your hands after any contact with anyone or anything. Avoid contact with people who have the common cold. Ah, the tricky one. How do we know they have the common cold? They could be asymptomatic, as I was on Christmas Eve.

Through almost two years of dealing with a potentially deadly pandemic, it’s fair to say that the media, and medical science to a lesser degree, has been less focused on other viruses.

Having said that, researchers did note the sharp drop-off in influenza numbers in 2021. This phenomenon may well have been due to the general population taking Covid precautions.

In the August edition of the Australian general practitioners magazine, ‘newsGP’, it was noted that a year had passed with not one single death due to influenza.

Professor Ian Barr was frank when asked if he ever imagined the current situation; just 435 notified cases (to August 2021) and no hospital admissions.
Barr, who is Deputy Director of the World Health Organisation Collaborating Centre for Reference and Research on Influenza at the Doherty Institute, said: “No. It’s amazing. Never.”

Professor Barr says the absence of influenza is a positive, although he also points to a number of other respiratory illnesses beyond the rising number of COVID-19 cases.

“I think fighting one virus at a time is quite enough for the general public. I don’t think we should get too complacent. There are other viruses circulating and depending on which State you’re in, those viruses are circulating at different levels.”

For context, in Australia there were 21,005 notifications of laboratory-confirmed influenza by August 2020 and 35 deaths. In 2019 there had been 214,377 and 486 deaths. (One explanation I read for this situation is that many deaths from influenza happen in Aged Care homes – the increasing emphasis on hygiene resulting from the Covid epidemic has had the effect of reducing the number of influenza deaths.Ed)

On January 6, 2022, Australia had 330,289 active Covid cases including 32,312 in Queensland. Before Christmas we had bugger-all.

I’m spending a lot of sick-bed time consulting Dr Google. If you want to minimise the chances of getting Covid, head to Tasmania. The Apple Isle and the Northern Territory have the lowest cases numbers in Australia, although at this time of year the climate is more attractive in Tassie than in the NT.

There were only 785 cases in Tasmania on Monday, increasing to 3,653 yesterday but well below the 268,787 cases in NSW and Victoria, the States you drive through to get to Tassie.

As an island State, though, one can fly directly to Tasmania, with only one border check. In WA, closed borders explains its low tally of 74 cases. The prosecution rests.

It fell to me then, viruses aside, to go on an emergency shopping expedition. I rationalised it thus: past the contagious stage, wearing a mask, washing my hands. What could go wrong?

On my last quick trip to buy juice, tissues and toilet paper, I witnessed an exchange between two customers (who apparently knew each other well enough to drop their masks under their chins).

“It’s all a bit much, eh?”

“Yeh, this flu’ll get us all eventually.”

One old bloke tendered a limp-looking ten dollar note. The (masked) checkout person picked it up in the manner of someone removing a gecko from a windowpane.

Then I went home and Dr Googled some more, finding along the way a study done in Germany which says listening to music can help heal the common cold.

Dance music, soft rock and jazz were genres most favoured to increase the levels of antibodies in the bodies of those listening to such music. (The jazz will drive me out of the room, thus achieving the aim of isolation. Ed.)

Research by the Max Planck Institute in Germany concluded that certain types of music boost the immune system and help to decrease the level of the stress hormone cortisol. Enthused by this research from 2008, latched on to by radio DJs and pop culture writers, I put together an appropriate playlist.

Our music advisor Franky’s Dad listened to the playlist and replied:

“This playlist gives an insight into the way a virus can addle the brain.”

“I see that you’ve been guided by the theme of illness & medicine,

“It’s a bewildering mix of genres though!”

FD (who also has the wog) contributed If I Could Talk I’d Tell You. Anyway, we agree – avoid listening to your favourites when unwell.

This eclectic playlist of 25 tracks – not all about feeling poorly – includes a pithy little ditty from our album, The Last Waterhole. I recommend Don’t Crash the Ambulance, not for the image it conjures, but as a piece of political history, with George W Snr advising the next president: “Watch and learn, Junior. Watch and learn.”

Germ Boy’s Mix

Angst in the time of Covid

polio-cholera-covid — Image: A young girl is given oral polio vaccine – Wikimedia CC

Amid reports of doubters who (still) believe Covid is fake news, this week we examine the history of public protest and vaccine hesitancy in times of contagion.

Those 3,000 or so people who mingled on Sydney’s streets a while back, protesting against the Covid lockdown, protesting about vaccines – it’s nothing new.

In the early 19^th century, Joe Public was getting riled up by the spread of cholera and the seemingly poor response by doctors and authorities. There was similar dissent shown when the UK government sought to make the smallpox vaccine compulsory in 1854. There was an ‘anti-mask’ movement during the Spanish Flu and much stigmatisation of polio victims in the first half of the 20^th century.

While the threat of cholera has been eradicated in countries with good drinking water and sanitation, there’s still a lot of it about in parts of Africa and Asia.

Cholera is a severe diarrhoeal disease which, if left untreated, can kill within hours. It is commonly transmitted via food or untreated water, particularly in countries with poor sanitation. Even now if you are travelling to Asia or Africa, your GP will advise getting vaccinated.

And here, dear reader, is where the great divide starts; the inevitable chasm between the majority who accept the science and medical advice and those who don’t. There are those who think the Covid vaccine is a plot to de-populate the planet or a conspiracy to control our minds by implanting microchips. Mine has already succumbed, as you can tell.

The first cholera epidemic (1831) emerged in Russia then somehow moved to Scotland, causing considerable angst and consternation. Just absorb this snippet from Wikipedia and put it in the context of Sydney’s Covid lockdown (and protests).

“A major riot took place in Aberdeen on 26 December 1831, when a dog dug up a dead body in the city. Some 20,000 Aberdonians (two-thirds of the city’s population, although this number has been criticised as an exaggeration), protested against the medical establishment, who they believed were using the epidemic as a body-snatching scheme similar to the Burke and Hare murders of 1828”.

In the summer of 1832, a series of cholera riots occurred in various towns and cities throughout Britain, frequently directed against the authorities, doctors, or both. Of the 72 cholera riots in the British Isles that year, 14 made reference to body-snatchers (“Burkers”).

Burkers were people who believed that medical authorities were acting in co-ordination with the State to purposefully kill and reduce the population (weeding out the poor and weak). Sounds outlandish now, eh?

Despite oral vaccinations being in widespread use, the World Health Organisation (WHO) recorded 499,447 cases of cholera and 2.990 deaths in 2018, spread across 34 countries. About 75% of cholera cases were attributed to Yemen. As the WHO observes, cholera is most likely to re-emerge and spread in countries affected by war and civil unrest and/or where infrastructure has been damaged by natural disasters.

If you roll back 102 years to the Spanish Flu pandemic, it is not hard to uncover instances of public unrest. They ranged from people stigmatising those who had the virus to complaining about having to wear a mask in public.

Historian Humphrey McQueen says mask wearing was strenuously enforced in New South Wales.

“The demand for masks was so extensive that to prevent profiteering, the Commonwealth Government declared butter muslin and gauze to be `necessary commodities’ within proclaimed areas.”

Opponents of mask wearing saw them as breeding grounds for infection or as sapping the community’s ‘vital force’. A ‘Bovril’ advertisement alleged that anti-influenza masks were ‘like using barbed wire fences to shut out flies’.

McQueen said there was widespread support for inoculation throughout the country. By the end of 1919, 25% of people in in New South Wales had received two inoculations against Spanish Flu.

“Melbourne’s socialites reputedly arranged `inoculation parties’ where the guests ‘got the needle’ in turn to slow music and a prize was awarded to the shapeliest arm.”

Vaccine hesitancy is no surprise to David Isaacs, Professor of Paediatric Infectious Diseases, University of Sydney.

Writing in The Conversation, he explored the topic from smallpox through to the Covid vaccine.

“In 1853, concerned by pockets of poor uptake of smallpox vaccine, the British parliament introduced the Vaccination Act, making infant smallpox vaccination compulsory.

“Mandatory vaccination fomented opposition, something we should remember if considering making a modern vaccine mandatory.”
Protests quickly emerged, with more than 80,000 vaccine dissenters marching through Leicester carrying banners, a child’s coffin and an effigy of Jenner.

Eventually, the success of Jenner’s smallpox vaccine silenced the anti-smallpox vaccination movement.

I sometimes look at the smallpox scar on my arm (1955) and wonder why people were so scared of something that could spare you from a disease more contagious than Covid-19, with a 30% mortality rate.

In the first half of the 20th century, the ‘silent killer’, polio (infantile paralysis) swept quickly through the US and other countries.
The US was desperate for a polio vaccine and it got one, but not without an early setback. Virologists Albert Sabin and Jonas Salk, competed to develop the first polio vaccine.
Salk’s vaccine, made from killed polio viruses, was ready for a large clinical trial in 1954.

Five companies applied to mass produce the Salk vaccine, four major pharmaceutical firms and one Californian family firm called Cutter Laboratories. The trial results proved the vaccine worked, so vaccination began in 1955.

But within two weeks, children who received the Cutter vaccine (but not the vaccines made by the four other companies), started to develop paralysis. Of the 200,000 children given the Cutter vaccine, 40,000 developed polio, 200 were paralysed and 10 died.

“The polio vaccination program stalled due to the ‘Cutter Incident’, but the fear of catching polio was so great the public was soon reassured the other vaccines had not caused polio,” Prof Isaacs wrote.

I don’t remember being told this story as a child in the 1950s, lining up in a New Zealand schoolyard for the polio needle. New Zealand was as badly affected as Australia, with five polio epidemics from 1914 to 1954, resulting in many deaths and people my age being left with a lingering legacy.

Polio Australia says there are 400,000 Australian survivors of the childhood polio epidemic. At its peak between 1944 and 1954, the virus killed 1000. The highly contagious virus, spread via faeces and nasal mucous, resulted in poor people and those living in overcrowded situations being stigmatised. Then as now, outbreaks were dealt with by closing schools, borders and public facilities like swimming pools. Victims were quarantined and newspapers published a daily tally of polio cases and deaths.

Prof Isaacs compares these stories with the public concern which arose in 2020 about the Covid vaccines, primarily because of the risk of blood clots. He concludes with the ‘greater good’ argument.

“In Australia, a concentration on individual risk at a single point in time ignores the benefits to the community of widespread vaccine uptake.

“History tells us the public can tolerate risk of harm from vaccines when the severity of the disease warrants the risk.”

I don’t know about you, but my second AZ shot is due tomorrow. I’ll run the risk.

More reading:

The Cutter incident

Keeping your distance – way out west

There’s a misleading headline for you – ‘way out west’. At best we were 400 kms from home at any one time. All the while, though, we were keeping our distance, as Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk encouraged us to do. Regardless, she also said we should to go forth and do tourist things in the State of Queensland. Spend money and support our small towns, the Premier said, while reminding us to meet COVID-19 restrictions. These include keeping 1.5m distance from other humans, washing your hands at every opportunity and avoiding Victorians like the plague. (I added that bit, just for a bit of colour.)

On the first day, we stopped for the few minutes it takes to navigate into the viewing enclosure built so tourists can enjoy the art work at the Yelarbon silos (above). The last time we drove from Warwick to Goondiwindi, this controversial project had not been completed. I include this link not to rake over old coals, rather to showcase the solid regional reporting that is at risk now that so many country news outlets have been shut down or relegated to online-only.

Before Yelarbon, our first stop on a 10-day circuit through western Queensland was Inglewood, where a wind chill made the noon temperature of 12 degrees feel like 5. We stopped at the Shot 2 U cafe for lunch, since our first day out was a day off for the cook. This cafe was serving takeaways and limiting the numbers of people who could be in the building at the same time. She Who Prefers Gluten Free found that this cafe ticked all of the boxes so we bought a container full of gluten-free, dairy-free brownies. It’s like the Premier keeps saying – go out into these small towns and spend some money. That’s not what they are saying in other States right now, but on the other hand, Queensland is/was COVID-free.

On we travelled to the Moonie Crossroads Roadhouse, where we parked our van and adjourned to the lounge for whatever was on the menu, while keeping our distance. The German tourist who works behind the bar happily found and served a piccolo of bubbles to celebrate Bastille Day. Next day, we set off on a short drive to Glenmorgan and Myall Park Botanic Garden. This 132ha property is privately owned and operated by a trust and contains many Grevillea species, bred and cultivated by the Gordon family. They named the best known of these species after their daughters – Robyn, Sandra and Melinda. It’s a wonderful little oasis of native flora and fauna which last year was at risk because of the effects of ongoing drought. Some 300mm of rain in February helped the property bounce back.

On our trek through Moonie, Glenmorgan, Roma, Theodore, Kilkiven, Maleny, Brisbane then home, we were followed in part by three single women of a certain age who decided on a short road trip for much the same reason as we did, ie to ‘get out of the house’. They travelled together in one car, stayed at motels, ate in restaurants or cafes and spotted rare sights like this ‘B-Triple’, on the road. (photo by Sandra Wilson).

Also taking a break from four walls were Brisbane friends we bumped into by serendipity in the small river town of Theodore. Like us, they had decided to get away from the house for a while. Many of their regular activities have been curtailed so as we all know, after a month or two of living under one roof, you get a bit stir crazy. After a spontaneous picnic lunch, and keeping our distance, our friends continued on towards Winton.

In Theodore, where we spent a couple of nights, we spotted four vehicles with Victorian number plates. Theodore has a police station, so you’d have to assume they have been checked.

Nevertheless, anxiety-tainted emotions arose; worries about contagion, proximity and the fear of the unknown. Hypothetical worries maybe, but you never know. Perhaps those with Victorian plates had been in Queensland since March, or earlier.

Some Grey Nomads, particularly those from colder climes, spend a lot of their winter north of the border.

Other travcllers seem to be worming their way into the State and not caring too much about leaving an accurate trail. Last I checked, there were still 185 people ‘missing’ after filling in forms at the NSW/Qld border. They are all supposed to be in quarantine for two weeks, but many still cannot be found. This implies that they used fake registration and/or address and contact details. Police have arrested several people this week, so we will watch the story unfold when they appear in court in September.

Crikey, as we say here in Australia when we really mean WTF. It would only take one contagious person to go into a licensed bar or restaurant and the viral ball would start rolling again.

I wondered if the authorities at border control are scanning drivers’ licences, as routinely happens when you go to licensed clubs. Or would this infringe our civil rights?

On the way to Theodore, we stopped off at the Isla Gorge lookout. If you want to climb down into the sandstone gorge and go exploring in this national park, you need to check in with the ranger, take a detailed map and make sure someone knows what you plan to do.

As it stands, you can pick your way carefully along a steep, unfenced track to a viewing point, but venturing further is only for the brave and thoroughly prepared tramper. You can stay overnight, but you need a permit and must be self-sufficient.

Everyone has their own comfort level when travelling. I spotted a young couple, rugged up and huddled around the camp fire at a Roma farmstay, before retiring to their little dome tent (as temperatures approached 5 degrees. At Wandoan we chatted briefly to an older couple in a little car who were exploring the Showgrounds as a likely place to camp. As we were setting up our caravan (and connecting power), the couple put up a small tent, table and chairs and a portable barbecue. It got to 3 degrees that night, so no, we were not keeping our distance!

If you want to go bush but feel like you need a guided tour with all the creature comforts, refer to Everald Compton’s recent blog). He and his wife Helen recently took time out for a bush holiday. Everald was born in 1931, so those of us who like to go bush with a swag and a nylon tent can excuse him a bit of luxury. They joined an organised tour with Nature bound Australia, a bush touring experience, where guests are ferried around in the operator’s four-wheel drive.

“We chose how many days we wanted to go on tour with them and agreed on an itinerary, after we had interesting advice from them about the many options that rural Australia offers. None of our chosen destinations had yet experienced COVID19.”

“Our itinerary took us on back roads through delightfully small communities and our accommodation was in bed and breakfast homes on farming and grazing properties, with other meals at wineries and quaint cafes in interesting places.”

Everald concluded that the bush adventure proved to be the right antidote for COVID-19 angst.

“A good bush holiday is all about reconnecting to nature and the guiding restorative power it has on our lives,” he wrote.

I’m sure our friends, creating their own versions of a bush adventure, would entirely agree. Just avoid interstate vehicles and, if someone wants to shake your hand, use hand sanitizer before you touch anything else.

Ross River Fever and other viruses

Ross-Rivr-Fever-viruses — The eastern saltmarsh mosquito – image Wikimedia CC

There is an ongoing household discussion here about the sliding screen door, which, if left open, exposes us to mosquitos, potentially carrying Ross River Fever. (It’s tempting to leave the door open so the dog, who lacks an opposable thumb, can get in and out at will. Ed)

Of course, we could just as soon be bitten when outside for a multitude of reasons (gardening, watering, chopping firewood, walking the dog at dusk). Nevertheless, I can tell if the screen door has been left open for a period as mosquitos the size of bees invade my study. It seems mine is the sort of blood to which mosquitos are attracted. I found that out big time on our caravanning adventures in the Northern Territory and Western Australia. If your blood group is type O or you are mosquito-prone, this article might be of interest.

North Queensland, the Territory and the Kimberley are among the places where one is most likely to be bitten by a mosquito carrying Ross River Virus (RRV). This is a disease for which there is no vaccine and no cure. And, despite common perceptions that it is a tropical disease, RRV can occur anywhere in Australia. An article in our local paper in early May revealed 121 cases were reported in the Darling Downs Health region in the March quarter. This is considerably higher than the norm (67 cases a year).

Condamine Medical Centre Dr Lynton Hudson told the Warwick Daily News his concern about Ross River Fever was that some patients may not come in for a physical consult due to COVID-19 fears.

As you’d expect, several years of drought followed by a late wet season, contributed to increased numbers of the southern saltmarsh mosquito, the type most likely to carry the virus. Complicating this year’s cycle is a mild autumn, which means mosquitos are still out and about, particularly at dawn and dusk.

As it happens, a member of our inner circle has recently been diagnosed with RRV, which started with a hives-like rash and a temperature. Fearing something dreadful like Lupus, she went to the local GP who, after some tests, diagnosed Ross River Fever. Stage two of the disease is swollen joints accompanied by arthritic pain and fatigue.

The condition is also called polyepidemic arthritis. Our friend was confined to bed for a few days until the anti-inflammatory medication started to kick in. She told me the arthritic pain was most intense in her knees, feet and ankles. The arthritis extended to her right wrist and finger joints, making it difficult to grip and lift when carrying out domestic chores like cooking

“I also felt extremely fatigued – so if I overdo it in the garden or something, I pay for it the next day.”

Her GP said there was not much she could do but ‘ride it out’ – easy to say when you are not the one home schooling three kids.

Every year, 3,000 Australians will develop RRV symptoms, which can last from six weeks to three months or longer and leaves patients with a risk of relapse or recurrence. RRV was first discovered in 1959 and named after the Ross River, which runs through Townsville. While people are more at risk of developing RRV if they live in humid regions around rivers, lakes and marshlands, the disease can be found anywhere in Australia. Some large marsupials, including kangaroos, act as an intermediary host.

Depending on weather cycles (drought followed by floods will do it), some years are worse than others. In 2014-2015, RRV cases more than doubled to 6,371.

Ross River Fever is one of a half-dozen viruses carried and spread by mosquitos, including Dengue Fever, Barmah Forest Virus and the lesser known Japanese Encephalitis.

Although RRV is not fatal or contagious, it is one of many notifiable diseases in Australia, with each State and Territory having its own parameters around notification. Included on the list is the bat-borne Lyssa virus, which can be caught by someone who is bitten or scratched by an infected bat.

There is no vaccine for RRV and unlikely to be one in the medium-term as the world’s scientists and epidemiologists are focused on finding a vaccine for COVID-19. Nor is there a vaccine for the mosquito-borne tropical disease, malaria. Mainland Australia is free of the disease; nevertheless 437 malaria cases were reported between 2012-13 and 2016-17. Cases were linked to people returning from a malaria-prone region.

Now that we are all in a state of heightened awareness about infectious diseases, we should perhaps remind ourselves of those not yet eradicated. Tuberculosis is one such illness – prevalent in third-world countries but contained in Australia to fewer than five cases in every 100,000 people. Tuberculosis or TB is primarily a disease of the lungs, although it can be systemic. It can be treated with medication, but patients need to be isolated, as it is extremely contagious.

While Australia aspires to a pre-elimination tally of one person per 100,000 by 2035, the incidence of TB is six times higher in the Indigenous Australian population. Legitimate cross border movements between PNG and the Torres Strait by traditional inhabitants unavoidably pose some risk of TB spreading in the Torres Strait Protected Zone.

Now that you are all feeling psychologically contaminated, the good news is the pre-elimination TB target (1 case per 100,000 by 2035), has already been met in the Australian-born population, who represent 72% of the total. A report by the Department of Health states that the incidence of TB has been ‘low and stable’ since 1986.

The point is, now that so much research capability is being focused on a COVD-19 vaccine (or cure), there a danger of being distracted from developing vaccines for other viruses, which, if not life-threatening, impose a serious burden on the lives of those afflicted.

The report, Mosquito- Borne Diseases in Queensland 2012-2017, may not appeal as bed-time reading in this time of heightened awareness of human frailties. So I will save you the chore and summarise a few statistics. For example, almost 14,000 people picked up RRV in the five years from 2012-13 and 2016-17. There were 3,986 reported cases of Barham Forest Virus, one of a small group of Alphaviruses including RRV and Dengue. There were 1,895 cases of Dengue fever in the same five-year period. Dengue is like a form of the flu. Most people recover in a week and fatalities are rare. In Australia, Dengue is confined to Far North Queensland, so cases diagnosed elsewhere are usually traced to a recent visit to FNQ or places where the disease is prevalent (Africa and South America). As for Japanese Encephalitis, which I referred to at the start, only three cases were recorded between 2012 and 2017.

As has been the case with COVID-19, we look to New Zealand for an intelligent response. The NZ Department of Health identified the RRV-carrying southern saltmarsh mosquito as a threat back in 1998. Over the next 11 years, with the help of the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, the imported mosquito species was eradicated from New Zealand. I feel safe in using the word ‘consequently’ to report that there have been no reported cases of Ross River Virus acquired within New Zealand since September 2006.

New Zealand scored a world first by snuffing out the little Aussie biter and RRV over a decade, possibly because there are no kangaroos to act as incubators. Having said that, did you know there are two species of wallaby in NZ (Kawau Island, Rotorua and southern Canterbury)? Anyway, I reckon Australia should send a delegation to talk to the people who eliminated the saltmarsh mozzie. Like, tell us how to do it, Bro. (If that’s the case, the kangaroos should start feeling pretty nervous. Ed)

Related reading: https://bobwords.com.au/shoo-flu-dont-bother-me/