NOW listen carefully … this is the word from Hobart Town’s most unreliable, incoherent drunk.

Spirit of Tasmania 3 is heading to Hobart.

The old drunk was staggering around Teef the other night when she was arrested … do not be alarmed, she is not a naughty police inspector caught out late at night, tho’ Hag hears scurrilous goss that was a set-up (surely there are not warring elements within the police force? Nah, couldn’t be) … she was arrested in the sense of being startled.

Startled to overhear a conversation between some rather loose senior level bureaucrats in their cups talking about SPOT 3.

And the gist of this: Some senior bureaucrats in Murray Street fiercely believe that the third Spirit should be coming into Hobart, not the salubrious East Devonport.

It seems that SPOT’s disgorged Sydney sheep are a bit peeved to discover themselves in the boondocks, not the thriving capital, when they get off the ship, and that they still have to travel to get a decent cup of coffee.

And as we know even Boon calls the Hobart docks home now … boom boom, or is that boon boon?

And Sydney to Hobart has a lovely marketing ring about it, doesn’t it, on account of a certain boat race known the world over … marketing people want to use that to push numbers on the boat.

But in this most parochial of states, the nervous pollies don’t agree. And commonsense is the last possession of the nervous opportunistic pollie. Nah, let’s ignore the fact that there’s a wonderful stadium at Bellerive. All AFL footy’s gotta be played at York Park. Or what’s the bloody thing called now, Roara Stadium.

Hag heard that unless the Hobart move is made … the boat disappears back to Europe.

Hag is so convinced of the efficacy of this bit of goss … that she hereby pledges to go on the wagon for a DAY, if it ain’t right on the money. Of course, the denails will start NOW.