Exit Mr Possum

There I was enjoying a cold drink at the St Kilda Bowlo and a possum the size of a Buckingham Palace corgi falls out of an air-conditioner vent 12 feet above and lands six inches away. He spilled some of my drink, bounced off the table and landed on the chair next to me. For about .02 of a second we looked at each other in mutual disbelief before he resumed going batshit and I resumed drinking. We had a moment. Mr Possum is now an honourary member of the bowls club and I am known as the Possum Whisperer. Here the barman bravely ushers Mr Possum out the back door.