Any new blood to Primbee must take that lonely walk to the end of the pier and pay their respects to the local overload, El Crabo of The Slime Pit.
Yeah, (cough, cough) sure i look after me health. Had a bad case of humans downstairs a few weeks back, but the sea lice got rid of them.

Bluey MacNab's baby photo
Bluey McNab, The Blue Manna Crab - by Wayne Pantall 9/6/05
Bluey McNab, the blue manna crab, lurks under the Mandurah Bridge.
It's Bluey's lot, avoiding the pot, and chill of a fisherman's fridge.
Never the stooge - he's grown to be huge, by dodging the drop-net and scoop.
Bluey'll snigger - grow ever bigger - determined to not become soup.
Fishermen try - frustrated, some cry - use every trick in the book.
He thinks it's great, whilst nicking their bait, he laughs as he hears them go crook.
Blue's not a fool - he's laid back and cool - as others are going to pot.
For knowing the lark, when it gets dark, he'll nick what the crab-catcher's got.
Blue loves to dance - to fling, jig and prance, and won't miss a fisherman's ball.
At one Crab Fest, Blue bagged a nest, of shonky old cods by the wall.
The more he'd chew - the more Bluey grew - the bigger his appetite got.
The bigger his claws - size of his jaws - less frequently fishermen squat.
Blue knows a prize - a good gauge of size, and slick with a button and zip.
Bluey McNab'll nab two in a grab - with a flash, and gnash, and a nip.
He'll spot a meal to snap out with zeal, and often he won't spare the rod.
As king of them all, Blue has a ball. He's gelded a thousand, the sod.
Mandjar Bay Choir singeth now higher. The bass man'll raiseth, a shriek.
It's choral range, has undergone change. A baritone altoed last week.
Blue's trip to Loch Ness, was where (I guess), he tasted the fruits of the kilt.
No more to roam - a 'True Blue' at home, and watching us now, from the silt.
(abridged version)
"Bloody Nemo getting me hooked on American grog and durries"

Bluey MacNab's baby photo
Bluey McNab, The Blue Manna Crab - by Wayne Pantall 9/6/05
Bluey McNab, the blue manna crab, lurks under the Mandurah Bridge.
It's Bluey's lot, avoiding the pot, and chill of a fisherman's fridge.
Never the stooge - he's grown to be huge, by dodging the drop-net and scoop.
Bluey'll snigger - grow ever bigger - determined to not become soup.
Fishermen try - frustrated, some cry - use every trick in the book.
He thinks it's great, whilst nicking their bait, he laughs as he hears them go crook.
Blue's not a fool - he's laid back and cool - as others are going to pot.
For knowing the lark, when it gets dark, he'll nick what the crab-catcher's got.
Blue loves to dance - to fling, jig and prance, and won't miss a fisherman's ball.
At one Crab Fest, Blue bagged a nest, of shonky old cods by the wall.
The more he'd chew - the more Bluey grew - the bigger his appetite got.
The bigger his claws - size of his jaws - less frequently fishermen squat.
Blue knows a prize - a good gauge of size, and slick with a button and zip.
Bluey McNab'll nab two in a grab - with a flash, and gnash, and a nip.
He'll spot a meal to snap out with zeal, and often he won't spare the rod.
As king of them all, Blue has a ball. He's gelded a thousand, the sod.
Mandjar Bay Choir singeth now higher. The bass man'll raiseth, a shriek.
It's choral range, has undergone change. A baritone altoed last week.
Blue's trip to Loch Ness, was where (I guess), he tasted the fruits of the kilt.
No more to roam - a 'True Blue' at home, and watching us now, from the silt.
(abridged version)![]()
Ok, this is getting pretty slow so I'll call it. Three clear favourites but I've gotta give it to Albers for a clever call and getting in first. Over to you Albers for 455 ![]()