I  recently went to an indigenous music festival in Gregory FNQ. The music was great, Archie Roach, The Flood, and others.  After the 6 acts came on to tell me, as a fat old white bloke was responsible for all the world's ill's back to the start of time, I was about to call it quits. As the last band was winding up it's final grand encore, I noticed a whole pile of the locals had turned up. There had been a couple of hundred watching the music, half of which were staff, another quarter scoffing beer in the vip tent, plus a few of us whitie's. Now there were four hundred here.

      "Ladies and Gentlemen, you don't have to go home but you can't stay here", and with that the lights came up on a big tent at the side of the stage. "Gather round for the greatest show on earth. In the middle of a makeshift skinny boardwalk ten feet up, was a old bloke banging a drum and hollering into a bullhorn. "Ring the bell Lucy", Lucy was a muscly looking girl at one end, banging a steel post against the world's most mistreated bell. Ding, Ding, Bang Bang, gather round, "Who wants to fight?"  Ding, Ding, Bang, Bang, "Those Mount Isa boys thought they could fight", Ding, Ding, Bang, Bang. "What we had here last night, the best I've seen". Ding, Ding, Bang, Bang.  "You boys look like you can fight, who's in? give us your best." And with that the blokes around me started pointing at their mates. "He fight good Bros". Hell, these guys are keen to get beaten up. "First I need a girl". Fingers go everywhere, and eventually he chooses one, she looks like she can handle herself. She's invited up on the plank. What's your name Sweetheart, a quick interview, and she's off to the far end. 

    Lucy bangs the bell. "I need six six blokes,good fighters". Buy now the crowded is right into it. People are being pushed forward left right, and center. Gradually the challengers are chosen. The plank has a purpose, being thin and high it's used  to weed out the drunks. Some challengers are dismissed with "too drunk, won't do any of us  any good" after they weave a bit to much on the high walk. Who knows where those blokes have been. As a paying punter I can only get 6 light beers a night with a personalised drink card. A quick interview each, Ding, Ding, Bang, Bang, and the right side of the plank gets another punter. The challengers, all blackfella's are a mix of big, small, wiry, and all look like they can fight.

    "And now the fighters, bellows the bloke with the megaphone", If they can hit half as hard as he's belting the drum is getting it's going to be a good night. The crowd  pushes forward, as blokes with names like the Cabramatta Mauler, and Light out Lucas, are introduced, and take their place on the left side of the stage. Like the challengers they are all different sizes, but they look hard. The bouts are matched up on size, with the Cabbermatta Mauler getting the first and last bout. The spruiking is over, Don't push, plenty of room inside, plenty of room, the crowd heads in.

    Inside there is a mat and a circle of hay bales about the size of a standard ring. First in get to sit on the bales, while the rest of us get to stand. No one is more than five deep from the action. The challengers are getting some tips from an old bloke who looks like he knows his way around the ring. He ties on their gloves, and cools them with water from a spray bottle. The Spruker has become the announcer. "WE'RE IN FOR A GREAT NIGHT HERE-------LADIES-------AND--------GENTLEMENNN."  Not too much talking is need as the crowd is already fired up. Here we fight using the Marquess of Queensberry rules. No MMA, kicking, biting, or scratching, just a straight up contest between two equals. Lets begin, but first we need a ring girl. One of the young local girls gets picked,  all her mates egg her on. In the first round the Mauler is matched up with Chocko a young thickset bloke who could probably lose a few kilos. The ring girl does her job, and "BING" it's on. Three, ninety second rounds per fight.

             The air is electric. Everyone is screaming, no one more than Chocko's mates. Chocko shapes up, he looks like he's had a few lessons. Him and the Mauler circle each other with a few jabs. 30 seconds to go, and some real punches get thrown. Chocko takes a bit of punishment then hits connects with a big right. The crowd go nuts. DING. Round one over. Back in the corners the trainers work the spray bottles over time. Chocko's getting some tips, the ring girls out, BING. Having sized each other up their straight into it. A few jabs, get close, let loose. The Mauler lands a couple, but it's not all one way, a few more jabs, the a late flurry at the end. Bing. My call, It's about even. The big difference is Chocko is panting like a dog on a forty degree day. The Mauler is not looking fresh but his fitness is showing. Bing, last round. Chocko gets in close and goes for it, he get the Mauler off balance and into the crowd. Those front seats are very close to the action. Chocko just about makes it to the end, but the Mauler get good left in and knocks him over. The ump steps in and stops the fight.  The fighters stand either side of the ref and the Maulers hand is raised. The Mauler and Chocko congratulate each other on a good fight. No time to wait, the next challenger is already gloved up.

    And so it goes on. There are seven fights on the card, if someone is clearly getting beaten, the ref steps in and stops the fight. Lucy the bell girl nails her opponent in the first round. Everyone is crammed around the ring like sardines. In the next a wiry challenger wins on points with only a bit of claret coming out of his chops at the end of the bout. The highlight is a tag team match. Two thickset blokes and two skinny guy's take turns at each other. The big guy's can box, and put on a good show, then tap out. The skinny challenger comes out like a turbocharged windmill on meth. No sizing up here, the best form of defense is attack. He only stops swinging when the bell rings at the end of the round. The trainer has a talk to the lads while spraying them. The big guys are about even both getting a couple of good shots in, the they tap out and the little blokes go at it full tilt, the only break is when the ref steps in . It's close but in a very popular decision the challenges come up trumps.  The Mauler is back out for the last fight, It's close but he remains undefeated. In the end, the score is 4/3 to the pro's.

    Was that an hour and a half, it seemed like five minutes. Everyone is pumped. We all file  out while the bloke with the bull horn tells us to keep it cool on the way home. Apparently the night before some of the community boys wanted to keep the show going outside. Everything's cool, I wander off exhausted, It's Fifty meters back to my tent. "I'm not going home,I am staying here".

    The great Fred Brophy's Boxing Troupe is the last boxing tent touring Australia. Once upon a time they were at every country show.  I would have loved to taken some photos but my phone was flat, besides it didn't work anywhere out bush anyway. You can get a general feel for the action here.