by Brendan Gibson
The 1985 Kyogle Fairymount Festival was a great opportunity for the Kyogle Nuclear Disarmament Group.
We covered my brother’s baby-blue 4WD with placards saying things like ‘NORCO won’t buy radioactive milk’. I sat on the bonnet with my arms inside my shirt and a sign tucked under my chin: ‘Mr Disarmament 1985’.
As we rounded the Post Office, driving slowly down Summerland Way, I saw a huge crowd and my mouth went dry.
A bloke outside the top pub called “He’s got no arms and he’s Mr Disarmament … that’s funny”. He broke the ice and we got a big cheer.
And humanity has managed not to blow itself