Something my father used to say to me every time the solid gold dancers came on the box (before he was shot in the neck) was, ‘Son, you don’t need anyone’s permission to take this matter in your own two hands’. At the time, I was clueless as to what ‘this matter’ was, but as I rounded the final bend descending into Bega, I knew precisely what he was referring to - the importance of satisfying one’s own company. So with a spring in my stride and a twinkle in my eye I marched to the beat of milking of this matter.

Bega is a countryside adorned in an emerald covering of febrile fertility which calls forth eons of primeval urges. Tread carefully, in these conditions; such desires will not remain dormant for long. So my advice, get the sightseeing out of the way quick smart! You will need to afford yourself an appropriate period by the heady white waters of the wrist.

First point of call (for any right thinking traveler who prefers off beaten entertainment) is the dairy cow simulator. Head to the centre of town (Latitude 36.67392º S 36º 40' 26.11" S. Longitude 149.8418º E 149º 50' 30.41" E) – turn left, you will find a red door (next door to the Centrelink), knock twice… then bay at the door like an injured Giraffe at the moon. A pug nosed mellow mandrake of a man will greet you with a traditional Bega greeting, do not be alarmed by the amount of vomit he expels – there is plenty more where that came from (trust me). I am not one to kiss and tell, but I will say this about the simulator, it sure can leave quite the mess.

Next item on your agenda should be a trip around the horn… bull horn that is. For centuries the local farmers have been using ground bull horn as; a snuff, children’s laxative and aphrodisiac. As the House of Pain song, Choose your Poison deftly narrates:

‘I get off Madd flows

Like a pack of eskimo's

On the dog sled in the blizzard’

One dose of Bega bull horn and these lyrics take on a whole new meaning.

Finally with the sights seen you can commence the task at hand. Take out your most comfortable picnic blanket, cut yourself a nice slice of local produce, stretch out by the banks of the Bega Cheese Heritage Centre and take this matter in your own two hands. The tourists streaming by and the weighty milieu of cheese provide the perfect soundtrack to gratifying one’s self.

So when your soul calls collect demanding you; get a good hard grip on nature’s beast and forcefully jettison demons from your earthly vessel. You sure as heck better accept those charges! And promptly make haste to hang out and about in Bega - the perfect place to do whatever you need do to pleasure you.