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NewsHound
- Sep 12, 2007
- 48
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- Funster No
- 282
From Australia's Sunday Mail
THEY are Caravan-Park Nazis. A thin-lipped breed of men and women who patrol Australia's campgrounds. The polo-shirt-wearing fake police CPN are often hostile.
Arrive at some of the country's caravan parks and feel their wrath. Everyone from backpackers to families is scrutinised and categorised. Party people. Noise-makers. Skateboard riders. Ball-game enthusiasts. All of the above are bad because the caravan-park Nazis frown on fun. Water fights, post-dusk swimming, running, riding anything on wheels, sharing a shower, laughing in the toilet block, laughing after 6pm, before 6am and after consuming alcohol are all punishable offences. These fun-suckers are often distinguishable by their high-riding pleated shorts, snow-white sneakers and liver-spotted legs
.
CPNs have their own criminal code. Toilet-block violations are vast and varied. At some parks, a post-beach bathing experience becomes a battlefield
.
Rinse excess sand before bathing. Do not exceed one minute of hot-water usage. Wear thongs in shower. Do not plug in own electrical goods. No children under 13 unattended. Keys left in toilet block will not be replaced.
The rules continue outside. No running, no running with balls, no handball, no chalk on bitumen, no walking on grass, no glass near the pool, no alcohol in common room, no TV after 8.30pm, no bikes on the road, no dogs anywhere.
The CPNs' love of rules makes them good sport. Deliberately rouse a park ruler and the outcome is explosive. Move dog-deterrent devices – carefully arranged plastic bottles full of water – and they're visibly shaken.
But beware the angry fun-sucker. These people come out of nowhere, padding silently on orthopedic bowling shoes. They step suddenly from shower stalls and leap into camp laundrettes.
From a distance they are laughable, easy fodder for tomfoolery with friends. But up close and alone, the CPN is an intimidating and omnipotent foe armed with your driver's-licence details and toilet-key deposit.
One male CPN stuck his head over the shower stall when I exceeded the 60-second timeframe. The knee-high-sock-wearing standover man had no problem interrupting a naked stranger and telling her, jowls atremble, to turn off the taps.
Occasionally you meet campground misfits. Welcoming couples who want visitors to have wonderful weekends. Who look at newcomers without the critical eye of the campground cop. These people should be applauded. Revered and respected.
As for the others . . . black your face in the dead of night and ambush the office. De-peg the clotheslines and pick their hibiscus. Hide their lie of a welcome mat and refuse to reverse-park. Create anarchy in the great outdoors. Be an anti-Nazi kamikaze.
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THEY are Caravan-Park Nazis. A thin-lipped breed of men and women who patrol Australia's campgrounds. The polo-shirt-wearing fake police CPN are often hostile.
Arrive at some of the country's caravan parks and feel their wrath. Everyone from backpackers to families is scrutinised and categorised. Party people. Noise-makers. Skateboard riders. Ball-game enthusiasts. All of the above are bad because the caravan-park Nazis frown on fun. Water fights, post-dusk swimming, running, riding anything on wheels, sharing a shower, laughing in the toilet block, laughing after 6pm, before 6am and after consuming alcohol are all punishable offences. These fun-suckers are often distinguishable by their high-riding pleated shorts, snow-white sneakers and liver-spotted legs
.
CPNs have their own criminal code. Toilet-block violations are vast and varied. At some parks, a post-beach bathing experience becomes a battlefield
.
Rinse excess sand before bathing. Do not exceed one minute of hot-water usage. Wear thongs in shower. Do not plug in own electrical goods. No children under 13 unattended. Keys left in toilet block will not be replaced.
The rules continue outside. No running, no running with balls, no handball, no chalk on bitumen, no walking on grass, no glass near the pool, no alcohol in common room, no TV after 8.30pm, no bikes on the road, no dogs anywhere.
The CPNs' love of rules makes them good sport. Deliberately rouse a park ruler and the outcome is explosive. Move dog-deterrent devices – carefully arranged plastic bottles full of water – and they're visibly shaken.
But beware the angry fun-sucker. These people come out of nowhere, padding silently on orthopedic bowling shoes. They step suddenly from shower stalls and leap into camp laundrettes.
From a distance they are laughable, easy fodder for tomfoolery with friends. But up close and alone, the CPN is an intimidating and omnipotent foe armed with your driver's-licence details and toilet-key deposit.
One male CPN stuck his head over the shower stall when I exceeded the 60-second timeframe. The knee-high-sock-wearing standover man had no problem interrupting a naked stranger and telling her, jowls atremble, to turn off the taps.
Occasionally you meet campground misfits. Welcoming couples who want visitors to have wonderful weekends. Who look at newcomers without the critical eye of the campground cop. These people should be applauded. Revered and respected.
As for the others . . . black your face in the dead of night and ambush the office. De-peg the clotheslines and pick their hibiscus. Hide their lie of a welcome mat and refuse to reverse-park. Create anarchy in the great outdoors. Be an anti-Nazi kamikaze.
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