“You want me to do WHAT? Act as Master of Ceremonies at the Longreach Show?”

I’d fielded some pretty random requests over the course of my quasi corporate career, but this one was right up there with the best of them.

Last time I was in Longreach, locals were laughing at me for wearing my Okanui shorts to an afternoon of calf marking. There’s people who blend into the bush, and there’s others who stand out, for all the wrong reasons.

“No seriously, you’ll be good – you’ll add a fresh perspective,” the pushy woman who chaired the show organising committee insisted. I can call her that because she’s also the Godmother of our eldest son. “Maca” was calling in favours – there was no place to hide.

“Well what to do I have to do?” I responded submissively. If I was going to lock horns with a bunch of cow cockies, I at least wanted to have a plan, something to supplement my apparently invaluable “fresh perspective”.

Before I knew it, I was standing on a stage in the main pavilion of the Longreach Showgrounds, microphone in hand, wondering momentarily if anybody had spotted the creases in my checked blue RM Williams shirt which just an hour before, had been hanging in the window of a shop in the main street. I’d learned my lesson with the Okanuis – might as well try and look the part. Sadly, I didn’t have time to find a hat that fitted.

Cattle, sheep, horses, chickens, vegetables, baby goats, vintage cars, dogwood dogs, stalls, rides, raffles, bands, art and craft displays, daredevil motorbike riders – in so many ways, the Longreach Show was just a scaled down version of the Brisbane Ekka.

In other ways, it bore no resemblance.

There was a sincerity to the occasion, an authenticity that “big city” events might aspire to but can never quite replicate. It’s hard to put a finger on it – perhaps too much fairy floss, not enough fleece. All dressed up and too many places to go.

In the city, the show is one of countless attractions, a fast food theme park, sprinkled with suitably attired out-of-town exhibitors, who typically congregate in secluded corners, most probably counting their lucky stars they only have to come to “the big smoke” once a year.

Out in the bush, it’s just one giant carefree congregation, a chance for local folk to catch up, compete, show their wares, eat, drink, shop and talk shop. They all know each other, even if the acknowledgement goes no further than a respectful nod, or a civil tip of the hat.

But bugger the rides and showbags full of fat and sugar and Chinese-made junk. In country towns, the primary focus is always the primary produce – which graziers have produced the biggest and the best and the wooliest and heaviest and the finest.

On the strength of envelopes handed out in Longreach this year, Ben Banks from Springleigh, “down Blackall way”, seemed to be the winner, at least in the wool section.

Banks looked a little sheepish as the judges kept on calling out his name – good thing he had a mob of kids with him. They took it in turns, climbing up on stage, collecting the cash prize, and delivering it obediently back to Dad. A big year for Ben and for Springleigh. He goes alright, apparently.

Plenty of others didn’t win a sausage, but that hardly mattered. Being involved was what was important. Most locals were in some way – organising, exhibiting, judging, fund raising, sponsoring, or just plain walking through the gate, having a beer, a bite and a sticky beak.

Maca, the pushy Godmother woman, put the unofficial crowd at 3000 – it seemed like a lot more. I reckon I met 1500, including a bloke who I’d coached rugby at school, far too many decades ago to remember.

Somehow he did. They’re good at that out here. They remember names, faces, and of course, fleece quality. Good to see you again, Dave, thanks for coming and saying hello. And congratulations again to Ben – no better fleece in the region.

As you’d expect, there was a sprinkling of special guests at The Show, headlined by Sam Kekovich, Australia’s famed and favourite “Lambassador”. Very funny bloke. Not sure all of Sam’s material would resonate with inner city Green voters, “the hairy legged, sandal wearing lentil eaters”, as Sam may or may not have called them. Fortunately, they were pretty thin on the ground in Longreach, so no offence was taken.

The more robust country types – they loved him. Practical, to the point, ideologically aligned – what was not to like about Sam Kekovich? Just calls it as he sees it, a bit like Pauline Hanson, except with a barbecued lamb chop in his right mitt.

Queensland’s favourite weather reporter Jenny Woodward was also in attendance. How much do they love Jenny in the bush? A truly trusted voice, relied upon nightly.

She let the Longreach locals down badly a while back, failing to organise any meaningful rain in the region for about four years, but it seems all has been forgiven. There were more “selfies” than a Gold Coast high school dance.

Sadly, one who was missed out on a photo with the superstar weather woman was Angus McLellan, arguably Jenny’s biggest fan north of Toowoomba, her home town.

Gus surrendered to the ravages of cancer earlier this year, January 26th no less. But having manned the Longreach Show bar for a gazillion or more years, the committee decided they’d honour him by launching the “You’ll Remember Me Bar” in the main pavilion. The strongly opinionated, Peroni Leggera swilling Gus McLellan perpetually honoured – they’ve got a good sense of legacy in the bush. Good people are rarely forgotten.

The highlight for me, apart from seeing a couple of horses enjoying a beer at Gus’s bar, and of course Sam Kekovich calling me “Garry”, was witnessing just what happens when a small, local community bands together.

Aside from one paid employee, everybody else involved volunteered their time. There were no free tickets, no handouts, young and old, monied and unmonied all pitched in to get the show organised, then over the course of three days, put their hand in the pocket to make sure it was a commercial success.

Local shows will always remain a life blood of small town communities. They are uniquely Australian. As Sam Kekovich might say, ”as Aussie as a bloke grabbing a juicy lamb chop off the barbie with his bare fingers, sustaining third degree burns, then sticking his hand in a relieving esky and fishing out a cold one.”

Yep, very few tofu sausages for sale at the Longreach show. No need to tread carefully either, or watch your Ps and Qs, even with a micro phone in hand.

I’d encourage you to get out there some time and take a look, have a beer at the “You’ll Remember Me Bar” and suck in the atmosphere.

The chances are it’ll give you a whole new perspective, and as Maca will tell you, a fresh perspective can be pretty valuable.