Jim Egan, The Scoundrel From The Scrub, was born and reared in South-East Queensland (too bloody long ago). He worked hard ‘at going broke’ on his dairy farm for some thirty years. He finally achieved his goal in 1999 when his mortgagee gave him ‘the fruit-bowl treatment’ (a banana skin under his foot and a pineapple up his arse) about the same date his then wife ‘got her bloody glasses changed’ and ‘showed him the door’. “We still get on well as long as there’s half a bloody continent between us”!
Jim’s first ‘plunge’ into public life was as one of the ten State Councillors for the Rural Youth Organisation in Queensland. He served in this role for two years at a time when Warren Truss (The current Deputy Prime Minister of Australia) was State Chairman of the organisation. “Warren and I disagreed on politics even then” says Jim.
In his spare time during his farming years he was the elected chairman of a small dairy co-op in Beaudesert. It was put out of business by State Government policies dictated by the vested interests of some politicians and milk processors. Consequently he stood for State Parliament in 1986. He was unsuccessful but “it gave me a great forum to throw bricks at the bastards!. It’s worth mentioning that channel 10‘s political reporter, Paul Bornjorno won a Wakely award for journalism for his coverage of QLD Dairy Industry corruption. Most of his material was supplied by Jim and his supporters.
Jim has four daughters, Nina, Cally, Pauline and Erin, and one son (Parrot-Piss-Pat) all of whom he’s very proud. After achieving his goal of ‘going broke’ he has ‘wandered aimlessly’ mainly in Far North Queensland. His first job was as drive-in bottle shop manager at the ‘Post-Office’ pub in Mossman. Then two years at the ‘West-Coast” pub in Cooktown. ‘Five minutes’ at the ‘Exchange’ pub in Coen, then ‘ten minutes’ as bar manager at the ‘Federal’ pub on Thursday Island. When his ‘pub-day’s’ were over he worked on small-crop farms on the Atherton Tablelands. In the tourist industry in Cairns washed cars at a used car lot, worked at two shipyards and then seven years as a builders labourer until “the arse fell out of the building game”. He now works as a ‘lowly traffic controller’ who delights in stuffing up the motorists’ pleasant drives but occasionally saving them from themselves!”
He intends to continue in this occupation until he either gets ‘run over or sacked’ or retires at 108.