So at some point over the last few weeks, SQuIRT has had their annual Show. For those non-antipodean among you, the Show is a County Fair. In addition to cattle and livestock shows, it's usually accompanied by riding competitions, a Show Ball and, if your town is really lucky, a sideshow alley.

SQuIRT doesn't get a sideshow alley, but it does have a ball. The main purpose of the event is to announce the Belle of the Ball, a.k.a Miss Showgirl. You might be somewhat skeptical about a Shire of only twelve hundred people holding a beauty pageant, and you'd be right.

The event had been well planned, and the large shed in which it was held was nicely decorated. All the blokes had their dinner suits out, except for the ten or so chaps in black jeans. It was obvious the town had made an effort. The announcer was a genial chap, typically red faced and well suited up, complete with a spotless Akubra. He stood on the dance floor, mic in hand and welcomed us to the premier event of the evening.

To enter the Miss Showgirl pageant, the entrant must be female, between the ages of eighteen and thirty, not and never married and can't have had any children. The requirments ruled out the vast majority of the Shire. And so, there were three entrants.

The first entrant worked at the local shop. She stepped nervously onto the dance floor and, from behind looked quite normal. She nodded to the announcer and turned to face the crowd. She was obviously a victim to both Queensland's poor record of water fluoridation, as well as her horse's hooves. Aside from her horrendous dental hygeine, she was quite presentable. She smiled. Everyone winced.

The announcer called the name of the second entrant. The stood up, and was immensely short. Her dress was not dissimilar to Deb's in Napoleon Dynamite, only a bit more eighties. The contestant waddled onto the dance floor. Man, she was short. And she had quite broad shoulders for her height, and quite a large head. Whilst grunting in response to the emcee's questions, she turned to face the audience. The person sitting next to me, also from out of town whispers what I was thinking... "Oh god... she's a dwarf."

The final contestant was warmly introduced. She had only recently moved to the Shire from country Victoria. I spotted her sitting, with her back to the dance floor, head turned towards the announcer. She had a nice blue fascinator, very Victorian Racing in style. She also had a strange shaped neck. It seemed to be quite, well, webbed. The announcer asked her to come onto stage, and it was clear that she was, well, listing to her right, from the hips up. The other Med Student present asks, in a harsh whisper "Is that Turner's syndrome?" The next town's doc says, gently, warmly, "No, no. She has Noonan Syndrome."

It's really nice that in a rural community, phenotypic mutations limit nobody.

Of course, the girl with the undamaged chromosomes won.