Kalgoorlie is the gold mining capital of Western Australia. Being over six hundred kilometres from Perth and with a population of over thirty thousand, it rises out of the desert in the same way that Las Vegas just appears out of nowhere in Nevada. I gather from speaking to people that it used to be a really gritty town, but nowadays has been made-over to draw in more tourists. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you too much more about the town itself because I’ve spent much of the three days here lying in the camp site’s TV room–a reconstruction of a council house sitting room–with my left leg in an elevated position in an attempt to reduce the swelling of my balloon-shaped foot.

I did manage to hobble my way from the car to the viewing platform to see the ‘Super Pit’, a kilometre-squared gold mine — in fact, the largest gold-producing square kilometre in the world. From the photos it’s difficult to appreciate the scale of this thing, but believe me when I tell you that it’s a big hole. In the second picture of the Super Pit, I’ve zoomed in as far as I could to show you a cluster of three drilling vehicles. These drilling trucks are the size of vehicle-based cranes that we have in the UK; now go back to the previous zoomed-out picture and notice those cranes in the top-left of the shot.

Any children reading this blog should now go and read a book or play on their computer as they will find the rest of this entry very boring adult stuff. (Yes, Kane that means you!) And Mums: you’re continuing at your own risk too…

It (almost) goes without saying that where there’s gold, there’s men–away from their families–mining it. And where there’s men away from their families, there’ll be beer in the bars, racing with cars, and… ahem… brothels. Not only are the working brothels in Kalgoorlie (and the rest of Western Australia) legitimate businesses, but here they also run daytime tours for other curious adults who want to understand a bit more about their history and trade. Naturally, Claire begged me to take her on the tour so in we walked together. Long time readers may remember that this is not the first time that we’ve found ourselves inside such a place: there was the ancient house in Pompeii, and who could forget our ill-chosen venue for the coffee stop in Switzerland?

After being greeted at the very professional receptionist’s desk, we were ushered into the waiting room just behind where we introduced ourselves to the other guests: a mature Canadian couple who had one of the house’s two dogs hiding beside their chairs, and mature-ish Australian man. It was a very neutrally decorated room and could have been a small time doctor’s waiting room if it weren’t for the large pair of rubber boobs and double-ended marital aid (Claire wouldn’t let me use the word “dildo”) beside the Australian man’s chair and the French maid outfit just to my left. The madam of the house, Madam Carmel, entered the room. A very, very normal looking lady in her early fifties opened her mouth and the most eloquent high-society English accent filled the room.

Over the next hour and a half, Madam Carmel took us to the ‘starting stalls’ (where the punters and the capitalists agree their deals) and each of the bedrooms, recounting stories from times gone past. Including the one where a punter died whilst on the job, the room in which one mature lady serviced seventy gentlemen in one day and–who could forget–the one where a lady came for a tour of the brothel and, due to lack of numbers, was asked to return the following day. After politely agreeing, she returned to her car moments later ploughed her vehicle straight through the front of the building and kept repeatedly reversing and ramming the structure under the police managed to prise her out of her vehicle over thirty minutes later.

The photo gallery follows and children and embarrassed Mums should probably look away now… For those wishing to continue to the gallery, we’ve decided to run a caption competition for the last picture (number thirteen) — leave your entry in the comments section. And remember, our Mums might be reading this.

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