There are - apparently - Islamic extremists here afterall. Get the custom HowardMobile van out and start rounding them up. Mamdouh who? Stand up for the new generation.
Fistfights broke out at an Australian polling station for Iraqis abroad Saturday when a group of Islamic extremists chanted slogans against those casting ballots, while Iraqis around the world voted for a second day in their homeland’s election.
The scuffle was the first report of trouble to mar polling that began a day earlier under tight security, allowing Iraqi expatriates in 14 countries to cast absentee ballots for Iraq’s first democratic election in half a century.
Iraqis elsewhere were enthusiastic as they lined up at the ballot boxes, even turning out in the hundreds in the Jordanian town of Zarqa, the hometown of Iraq’s most feared terrorist leader, Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, election officials said.
At least if this is for real - and I’d rather see it reported somewhere else rather than a story filed in London before I buy it - it means our extremists tend to veer towards the “pissweak student politician” definition of extremism rather than anything especially terrifying. They probably had t-shirts printed and everything.
UPDATE 1.0 - Here you go, draw your own conclusions.
TENSIONS caused by the Iraqi election are being blamed for a shooting in Sydney’s west.
A group of 100 people were fighting and arguing on the main street of Auburn about 11pm (AEDT) yesterday when a number of shotgun shots were fired, police said today.
A number of cars and a shop front were damaged and four people suffered minor ricochet wounds.
“The past weekend has seen an escalation in tension between members of the Iraqi community here in Auburn,” Superintendent Allen Harding said.
“On Saturday when voting was taking place police were advised of a plan by some members to hold a demonstration, which we were told was protesting against the legitimacy of the election at a time when the protesters saw the country was under occupation.”
Police were called to a disturbance at the polling booth on Saturday and discovered an abandoned backpack that was searched by the bomb squad, but found only to contain somebody’s lunch.
Police asked the protesters to move on and they complied before tensions spilled over again last night.
So the first report turned a protest into an extremist punch-on but neglected to use the shooting to make it more dramatic. If you can’t at least rely on journalists to fudge the truth properly who are you supposed to turn to?
UPDATE 2.0 - Maybe they’re confusing it with this?
A SOCCER manager heading to a FA Cup match was attacked when Iraqi expatriates clashed at a polling station in England.
Brian Talbot, the manager of Oldham Athletic Football FC, got caught in the scuffles as he was passing the polling station in Manchester on his way to Oldham’s match against Bolton.
After one of the people in the rival groups was accidentally struck by Talbot’s car, a mob of more than 20 surrounded the vehicle, smashing its windows and assaulting him, a club spokesman said.
An Oldham Athletic spokesman told BBC radio: “Brian was very shaken up and his car was in a right state. But he has made it to the game and he just wants to get on with the match now.
Poor Brian, first he ends up managing the Latics - and now this.
Monday, 31 January 2005
Sunday, 30 January 2005
Loving you is easy ‘cos you’re beautiful
Ten months ago I stood in Adelaide’s Hindmarsh Stadium and saw a penalty hit the net that should, for all intents and purposes, have been the death of the South Melbourne Football (nee ‘Soccer’) Club. With no prospects of playing in the pumped up, corporate fantasy world of the new Australian national league the years of financial mismanagement and general apathy that surrounded the place collapsed in on top of the club and they ran very, VERY close to going out of business forever. It wasn’t until September/October last year that we knew for absolute certain that the club had been saved. The world’s greatest chairman was appointed and the task of rebuilding started. And today we saw the first step to regaining the glories of the past.
We stashed the official Reg Reagan “Bring Back The Biff” Holden whetever-the-fuck-it-is in my work carpark, unzipped my jacket so the t-shirt that was last worn on that fateful day in Adelaide was visible to all and set off for the now traditional Cricketers Club Hotel. Upon arrival it was clear that a star-studded cavalcade of the who’s who of South fans were in attendance. Just like old days. Almost enough to bring a tear to the eye. But not close enough. I was wearing the official Boutsianis Balaclava in dedication to our former midfielder, and armed robbery getaway driver, who turned his back on our club for roughly the 5th time and joined Heidelberg instead. It wouldn’t have been appropriate to shed a tear in such a fearsome disguise.
I did, however, see this redundant sign on the way,
The poor bastards only changed it from “Ericson Cup matchdays” a year ago, presumably after somebody had rolled them in a challenge, and now the NSL gets killed as well. I predict they won’t know what to do. I also predict a riot when somebody gets booked for parking there during a Victorian Premier League game.
The pub action was awesome. It reminded me of why before every AFL season I start to think South are barging their way to the front of my sporting priorities. I’ve never met one person ever at a Melbourne game, I just don’t give a fuck. But here I was outside a pub with 30 people who I only knew because of South. That’s ace. The balaclava came off lest the people run that pub think I’m trying to knock-off their takings, Boutsianis style, but made a reappearance when the Heidelberg team bus got stuck in traffic right in front of us. What can you do? I danced around a bit. From on bus it was probably reminiscent of the dwarf doing a jig around Stonehenge in This Is Spinal Tap.
Eventually we got to the ground. South won the reserves/U21’s 2-1 in an encouraging sign. Even though I came in with ten minutes left and missed the winning goal. As the minutes before the game ticked on it because clear that there was a fucking huge crowd there. I mean huge. For Australian domestic soccer huge anyway.The official tally was 12000ish. Absolutely remarkable for a state league game. I don’t give a fuck if it’s an all-Greek derby, or if it’s the first game of a new season it was an amazing crowd anyway. It’s fair to say that I thought I’d never see anything like it at Bob Jane again. Especially in the days of June/July 2004 where the old trophies and memorabilia were being loaded into storage lest we fold and they get ransacked. Let’s hope that at least half of this crowd bother to come back for South vs St. Albans next week.
The game itself? If you’d offered me 0-0 pre-game I would have not only taken it but humped your leg at the same time - our pre-season form was so bad that even against a side promoted from the State League I was terrified of a first up loss. Looking back now, having just seen the game end 0-0 I want the three points. I feel robbed. The most experienced outfield player in our entire side, NZ international, Vaughan Coveny missed two sitters and we were all over the Bergers from the word go. Only for a few brief minutes did the opposition threaten to break the game open with a goal. Our elderly goalkeeper, and brother of coach, pulled out a couple of cracker saves that I honestly didn’t think he had left in him to deny them their best chances. I’m encouraged. Very encouraged.
Still shocked at the crowd. If that doesn’t get some positive press I will fucking go ape. Of course there’s more chance of the Herald Sun and Peter “F’ing” Desira taking a picture of the two of us in black balaclavas and writing a front page rant about 12000 right-wing Combat 18 fanatics hijacking the game in this country. And if they did that.. Insert random threats here. Of course there was a picture taken of us by one of the Greek newspaper photographers. It was only after he’d snapped off a couple of pix that I realised my t-shirt was in full view during the shots. If they just print those without even thinking - and god knows why they would because if you didn’t get the Boutsianis-related comedy aspect of it you’d think we were total lunatix or actual Neo Nazi’s - and I open Neos Kosmos to see a shot of myself in a black ski-mask with the word CUNT prominently displayed it will officially be the greatest day of my life. I’ll have it framed and put it on my wall.
Click here to see the power and force of the fence run when Boutsianis was taking a corner right in front of us. I was too nervous at 0-0 to join in sadly. And the steering wheel I planned on bringing didn’t eventuate so there was really no point when so many young and enthusiastic practioners of the art.
So,
South Melbourne 0
Heidelberg Utd 0
Not the best 0-0 draw I’ve ever seen (vs Perth, Australia Day 2004. Another huge crowd) but certainly the most emotional. I was so tense during that second half I could barely stand up, I fear that if we’d scored I may have just broken down on the spot.
I realised something the other day as I looked through my diary. Given that the ancient gods of scheduling have come together to ensure that work/South/Melbourne AFL don’t clash more than a few times during the next few months it means that I’m going to be at one sporting event or another one pretty much every weekend day I’ve got off until September. And then I go to England in October to watch more soccer. I think it’s fair to say that next cricket season I won’t even turn the TV on. I will start to understand why people hate sports.
Top night. Football is back. I still don’t get that sick feeling in my stomach for the whole game that I do when watching Melbourne play but the post-match tension is still there. I won’t sleep all night now.
If this game isn’t given massive coverage in the papers tomorrow then I’m going to ballistic. Fuck the A-League. South forever! Get all your asses down to Bob Jane next Sunday night against St. Albans.
We stashed the official Reg Reagan “Bring Back The Biff” Holden whetever-the-fuck-it-is in my work carpark, unzipped my jacket so the t-shirt that was last worn on that fateful day in Adelaide was visible to all and set off for the now traditional Cricketers Club Hotel. Upon arrival it was clear that a star-studded cavalcade of the who’s who of South fans were in attendance. Just like old days. Almost enough to bring a tear to the eye. But not close enough. I was wearing the official Boutsianis Balaclava in dedication to our former midfielder, and armed robbery getaway driver, who turned his back on our club for roughly the 5th time and joined Heidelberg instead. It wouldn’t have been appropriate to shed a tear in such a fearsome disguise.
I did, however, see this redundant sign on the way,
The poor bastards only changed it from “Ericson Cup matchdays” a year ago, presumably after somebody had rolled them in a challenge, and now the NSL gets killed as well. I predict they won’t know what to do. I also predict a riot when somebody gets booked for parking there during a Victorian Premier League game.
The pub action was awesome. It reminded me of why before every AFL season I start to think South are barging their way to the front of my sporting priorities. I’ve never met one person ever at a Melbourne game, I just don’t give a fuck. But here I was outside a pub with 30 people who I only knew because of South. That’s ace. The balaclava came off lest the people run that pub think I’m trying to knock-off their takings, Boutsianis style, but made a reappearance when the Heidelberg team bus got stuck in traffic right in front of us. What can you do? I danced around a bit. From on bus it was probably reminiscent of the dwarf doing a jig around Stonehenge in This Is Spinal Tap.
Eventually we got to the ground. South won the reserves/U21’s 2-1 in an encouraging sign. Even though I came in with ten minutes left and missed the winning goal. As the minutes before the game ticked on it because clear that there was a fucking huge crowd there. I mean huge. For Australian domestic soccer huge anyway.The official tally was 12000ish. Absolutely remarkable for a state league game. I don’t give a fuck if it’s an all-Greek derby, or if it’s the first game of a new season it was an amazing crowd anyway. It’s fair to say that I thought I’d never see anything like it at Bob Jane again. Especially in the days of June/July 2004 where the old trophies and memorabilia were being loaded into storage lest we fold and they get ransacked. Let’s hope that at least half of this crowd bother to come back for South vs St. Albans next week.
The game itself? If you’d offered me 0-0 pre-game I would have not only taken it but humped your leg at the same time - our pre-season form was so bad that even against a side promoted from the State League I was terrified of a first up loss. Looking back now, having just seen the game end 0-0 I want the three points. I feel robbed. The most experienced outfield player in our entire side, NZ international, Vaughan Coveny missed two sitters and we were all over the Bergers from the word go. Only for a few brief minutes did the opposition threaten to break the game open with a goal. Our elderly goalkeeper, and brother of coach, pulled out a couple of cracker saves that I honestly didn’t think he had left in him to deny them their best chances. I’m encouraged. Very encouraged.
Still shocked at the crowd. If that doesn’t get some positive press I will fucking go ape. Of course there’s more chance of the Herald Sun and Peter “F’ing” Desira taking a picture of the two of us in black balaclavas and writing a front page rant about 12000 right-wing Combat 18 fanatics hijacking the game in this country. And if they did that.. Insert random threats here. Of course there was a picture taken of us by one of the Greek newspaper photographers. It was only after he’d snapped off a couple of pix that I realised my t-shirt was in full view during the shots. If they just print those without even thinking - and god knows why they would because if you didn’t get the Boutsianis-related comedy aspect of it you’d think we were total lunatix or actual Neo Nazi’s - and I open Neos Kosmos to see a shot of myself in a black ski-mask with the word CUNT prominently displayed it will officially be the greatest day of my life. I’ll have it framed and put it on my wall.
Click here to see the power and force of the fence run when Boutsianis was taking a corner right in front of us. I was too nervous at 0-0 to join in sadly. And the steering wheel I planned on bringing didn’t eventuate so there was really no point when so many young and enthusiastic practioners of the art.
So,
South Melbourne 0
Heidelberg Utd 0
Not the best 0-0 draw I’ve ever seen (vs Perth, Australia Day 2004. Another huge crowd) but certainly the most emotional. I was so tense during that second half I could barely stand up, I fear that if we’d scored I may have just broken down on the spot.
I realised something the other day as I looked through my diary. Given that the ancient gods of scheduling have come together to ensure that work/South/Melbourne AFL don’t clash more than a few times during the next few months it means that I’m going to be at one sporting event or another one pretty much every weekend day I’ve got off until September. And then I go to England in October to watch more soccer. I think it’s fair to say that next cricket season I won’t even turn the TV on. I will start to understand why people hate sports.
Top night. Football is back. I still don’t get that sick feeling in my stomach for the whole game that I do when watching Melbourne play but the post-match tension is still there. I won’t sleep all night now.
If this game isn’t given massive coverage in the papers tomorrow then I’m going to ballistic. Fuck the A-League. South forever! Get all your asses down to Bob Jane next Sunday night against St. Albans.
Morning (or “Getting away with it”)
90% of days I do nothing. You’ll read some post on here about how I fell down a hill or something and it’ll come off like I’ve got the most entertaining life around but it’s all a carefully constructed charade. Today, however, I had an absolute ripper. Weird shit going on left, right and centre. So big in fact that I’m splitting it into two different posts. You should be reading this before the other one. But you’re probably not. Anyway…
First stop for the day was the Junction Oval for the Tsunami charity cricket game between Melbourne and Collingwood FC’s. Now I’m dubious about cricket at the best of times, even when there’s professionals involved so the prospect of seeing rank amateurs and a couple of has-been ring-ins going the tonk at a ground nobody has taken seriously since 1956 hardly thrilled. But it was for charity, I’m starved of AFL related events, it’s just around the corner and promised to give us some cheap laughs. Of course rather than comedy the first thing that I saw pissed me off as several absolute CHEAPSKATES of the highest order stood outside the Junction Oval fence and watched the game for free. I said I’d give them the benefit of the doubt until the first ball was bowled and then it was open season. Not surprisingly the army of cheap fucks, including one in a Collingwood hat for god’s sake didn’t budge and as the first ball went down I turned around and gave it some “Any danger you lot are going to pay for this?”, expecting that the rest of the crowd would see the scam taking place and join in for a massive public outrage. Sadly they were all 200% softcocks and didn’t go with it. One of them even started a conversation with the Kollingwood Kunt through the fence. Collaborators one and all. We seemed to be the only people who saw the problem with people watching a charity game for free. And it’s not like anyone was there for the quality of the sports.
So, I thought to myself, it’s time to make as bold a public statement as was possible at such an event. As we were being treated to the live comic stylings of Scott Cummings, Steven (?) Febey and some radio bogan over the Junction Oval PA system I resolved to find them and demand they make an announcement inviting the people in question to fit in or fuck off. It looked like a failed enterprise from the start as our attempts to find the commentary box led only to us walking straight into the Collingwood change rooms to be confronted with a stern faced woman who demanded “Are you alright?” and Anthony Rocca giving me dirty looks. When I pulled out the response of “Umm, we’re looking for the commentary box. We’ve got a message for them” For some reason she then switched into ultra-helpful mode and directed us right to it. Thanks mad Collingwood woman!
Eventually we got up there, via randomly walking past my mum perving on the entire Melbourne FC list and half of Collingwood’s as well - which, if I hadn’t seen it before, would be a psychiatry moment to the extreme. Thankfully they had an open window and I managed to get the point across via the following free and frank exchange of ideas,
Adam: “Hello. I have a request”
Cummings: “Yes?”
Adam: “Can you make an announcement for all the cheapskates who are watching for free from behind the fence to pay up or piss off?”
Cummings: “Where are they?” (as if I was making it up… I pointed them out)
Random Stooge: “CALL THEM TIGHTARSES!”
I don’t think he was taking me seriously until the random stooge just fired up. I didn’t even wait for him to say yes or no, just walked off confident that justice would prevail and he’d let rip. Then for about two minutes he talked about the game. I was starting to lose faith in him for the first time since … well his 2nd game to be honest.. but then he must have been spurred on by the stooge again because not only did he do a bitter announcement about people being cheap and watching a charity game for free but he fired up and labelled them as ‘tightarses’ too. Just like the random had called for. And the crowd went mild. A few people applauded, and we tried to fire them up, but it was just general apathy. I swear people just go “I’ve done my bit. Don’t look at me!” I walked back over to the fence and let another spray go, hoping that now the assembled bogans would join in now that it was Cummings-endorsed but they just sat there again. Didn’t even look. Fuck ‘em - my conscience is clean.
The cricket itself was distressingly dire. Simon Godfrey took a hat-trick, which was unexpected and Collingwood racked up some ridiculous total of 14/150-something off their 20 overs. 14 batsmen indeed. What a farce. I didn’t even stay to see Melbourne bat, I’d paid my contribution and didn’t need to see the game of cricket destroyed any further. So we walked out and went on a random pre-soccer road-trip to Burwood K-Mart. On the way SEN (a dodgy sports radio station for you non-Melbourne viewers) were having an earnest debate about whether the 20/20 format is an absolute farce. I said yes, and they said yes. One of their announcers made the exact point that I’ve been pushing ever since this shit was launched - that it’s only good for charity tonkathons and park cricket. Then he went mad and suggested that One Day International’s were rubbish as well. So fuck him.
I took a couple of pictures of the game but they were complete shit and nothing was happening in them, so I just junked them and decided to post yet another picture of me looking as sick as a dog. Ladies calm thyself,
Does it for me. Please note that the obscured t-shirt bares the legendary slogan “Politically Correct Cunt”. I was hiding it from the kiddies at the time. Who said I was a complete bastard? Might have been me to be honest.
Nothing interesting happened on our road-trip. I bought a chair. We then drove past a computer swap meet and with time to waste combining with happy memories of buying shonky pirated software in 1995 we dropped in. Oh - my - god. I swear that every second white male there looked like a child molestor. I was quite creeped out by the whole experience and hid outside while the Lebo perused expensive hardware. Only my “what the fuck are you doing in there?” SMS saved him from buying several thousand dollars worth of useless equipment from somebody on the sex offenders register.
Then the path was set - Bob Jane Stadium via the Cricket Club Hotel. Again we fired up SEN and when I heard the magic word QUIZ as we passed through Richmond - and ironically straight past SEN HQ - I dived for the phone. For once it rang - which means they have no listeners. Usually I’m in these things just to get on the radio, apart from my farcical performance on the Gold FM free money minute at 6.40am once last year where I won $30 after bombing out by mistaking addition for multiplication I hadn’t won a radio quiz for years. Last time was some shonky 70’s quiz on Gold (natch) in about 2000 where I got a gimme handball on a question about Elton John from somebody who’d bombed out on the second question, then I answered correct that Laverne and Shirley worked at Schotz brewery (though I wanted to call it Schotzenfelder Incorporated - a’la the theme song - until the radio bogan off-air told me to just answer “Schotz”) and then that Montreal hosted the 1976 Summer Olympics. All I got for this remarkable handicap victory (given that in ‘76 I was -5 years old) was a double pass to some shithouse IMAX ghost movie that I never used. No glory, no decent prize. What’s the point?
Anyway I went into this one hoping for a good run - then they announced that the whole point to it was that they’d tell you a sporting arena and you had to tell them what country it was on. Thanks - for - playing. I can’t even remember what the first few were but a couple of callers came and went. Suffice to say I would have gotten them all. Then as fate would have it the guy who bombed out before me died on one I didn’t know - thank god I had the Lebo there to tell me that the A-1 Ring motor racing circuit is in Austria because I haven’t watched the sport since they put a race there. So part of my success is down to him - but not enough for me to share.
The rest of it went a bit like this. I may have screwed the order up a bit because I was as nervous as. Even though I knew I was only going to win a tennis racquet.
Horse Racing circuit “The Curragh”. Republic of Ireland - got it. Even said “Republic of” which should have got me more points
Rugby stadium “The Millenium Stadium”. Wales. Too easy - even if it’s a soccer football stadium to me. What’s Rugby?
Soccer stadium “The Maracana”. Brazil. Despite being the biggest sitter of them all I actually balked on this one for a split second. I had to think about it before getting it right.
Snooker stadium “The Crucible”. England. As I said live to air “I narrowed it down to the only place in the world that cares about snooker”.
Cricket ground “The Wanderers”. South Africa. Ultra-quick process of elimination said it had to be from an anglo-esque country, that they’d already done one from the West Indies before I came on and that it wasn’t Australian, English or from New Zealand. Done.
There were more. I can’t remember what they were now. Tension was too high.
The final one - they were pumping me up on air and saying what a gun I was so I couldn’t possibly fail on this or all would be lost. No tennis racquet, reputation shattered, no tennis racquet.
Baseball stadium - (at this point I knew I was home) “The Skydome”. Canada. Thanks for playing. Let’s all go have a tennis tonk. When they said Baseball as a final question I knew it wasn’t going to be somewhere in the USA and that if it was Japanese or Mexican the name would have given it away. Waves of relief rippled throughout the car. Victory was mine. An eight question blast that destroyed the line-up of bogans they had hanging on the line waiting for me to fail. The rest of the trip was spent analysing the hairier moments in the quiz. Given his contribution to the start of my streak Amul is given the right to have tennis balls waffled at him from the new racquet. Lucky boy.
The rest of the evening - coming in the next post. Get excited.
First stop for the day was the Junction Oval for the Tsunami charity cricket game between Melbourne and Collingwood FC’s. Now I’m dubious about cricket at the best of times, even when there’s professionals involved so the prospect of seeing rank amateurs and a couple of has-been ring-ins going the tonk at a ground nobody has taken seriously since 1956 hardly thrilled. But it was for charity, I’m starved of AFL related events, it’s just around the corner and promised to give us some cheap laughs. Of course rather than comedy the first thing that I saw pissed me off as several absolute CHEAPSKATES of the highest order stood outside the Junction Oval fence and watched the game for free. I said I’d give them the benefit of the doubt until the first ball was bowled and then it was open season. Not surprisingly the army of cheap fucks, including one in a Collingwood hat for god’s sake didn’t budge and as the first ball went down I turned around and gave it some “Any danger you lot are going to pay for this?”, expecting that the rest of the crowd would see the scam taking place and join in for a massive public outrage. Sadly they were all 200% softcocks and didn’t go with it. One of them even started a conversation with the Kollingwood Kunt through the fence. Collaborators one and all. We seemed to be the only people who saw the problem with people watching a charity game for free. And it’s not like anyone was there for the quality of the sports.
So, I thought to myself, it’s time to make as bold a public statement as was possible at such an event. As we were being treated to the live comic stylings of Scott Cummings, Steven (?) Febey and some radio bogan over the Junction Oval PA system I resolved to find them and demand they make an announcement inviting the people in question to fit in or fuck off. It looked like a failed enterprise from the start as our attempts to find the commentary box led only to us walking straight into the Collingwood change rooms to be confronted with a stern faced woman who demanded “Are you alright?” and Anthony Rocca giving me dirty looks. When I pulled out the response of “Umm, we’re looking for the commentary box. We’ve got a message for them” For some reason she then switched into ultra-helpful mode and directed us right to it. Thanks mad Collingwood woman!
Eventually we got up there, via randomly walking past my mum perving on the entire Melbourne FC list and half of Collingwood’s as well - which, if I hadn’t seen it before, would be a psychiatry moment to the extreme. Thankfully they had an open window and I managed to get the point across via the following free and frank exchange of ideas,
Adam: “Hello. I have a request”
Cummings: “Yes?”
Adam: “Can you make an announcement for all the cheapskates who are watching for free from behind the fence to pay up or piss off?”
Cummings: “Where are they?” (as if I was making it up… I pointed them out)
Random Stooge: “CALL THEM TIGHTARSES!”
I don’t think he was taking me seriously until the random stooge just fired up. I didn’t even wait for him to say yes or no, just walked off confident that justice would prevail and he’d let rip. Then for about two minutes he talked about the game. I was starting to lose faith in him for the first time since … well his 2nd game to be honest.. but then he must have been spurred on by the stooge again because not only did he do a bitter announcement about people being cheap and watching a charity game for free but he fired up and labelled them as ‘tightarses’ too. Just like the random had called for. And the crowd went mild. A few people applauded, and we tried to fire them up, but it was just general apathy. I swear people just go “I’ve done my bit. Don’t look at me!” I walked back over to the fence and let another spray go, hoping that now the assembled bogans would join in now that it was Cummings-endorsed but they just sat there again. Didn’t even look. Fuck ‘em - my conscience is clean.
The cricket itself was distressingly dire. Simon Godfrey took a hat-trick, which was unexpected and Collingwood racked up some ridiculous total of 14/150-something off their 20 overs. 14 batsmen indeed. What a farce. I didn’t even stay to see Melbourne bat, I’d paid my contribution and didn’t need to see the game of cricket destroyed any further. So we walked out and went on a random pre-soccer road-trip to Burwood K-Mart. On the way SEN (a dodgy sports radio station for you non-Melbourne viewers) were having an earnest debate about whether the 20/20 format is an absolute farce. I said yes, and they said yes. One of their announcers made the exact point that I’ve been pushing ever since this shit was launched - that it’s only good for charity tonkathons and park cricket. Then he went mad and suggested that One Day International’s were rubbish as well. So fuck him.
I took a couple of pictures of the game but they were complete shit and nothing was happening in them, so I just junked them and decided to post yet another picture of me looking as sick as a dog. Ladies calm thyself,
Does it for me. Please note that the obscured t-shirt bares the legendary slogan “Politically Correct Cunt”. I was hiding it from the kiddies at the time. Who said I was a complete bastard? Might have been me to be honest.
Nothing interesting happened on our road-trip. I bought a chair. We then drove past a computer swap meet and with time to waste combining with happy memories of buying shonky pirated software in 1995 we dropped in. Oh - my - god. I swear that every second white male there looked like a child molestor. I was quite creeped out by the whole experience and hid outside while the Lebo perused expensive hardware. Only my “what the fuck are you doing in there?” SMS saved him from buying several thousand dollars worth of useless equipment from somebody on the sex offenders register.
Then the path was set - Bob Jane Stadium via the Cricket Club Hotel. Again we fired up SEN and when I heard the magic word QUIZ as we passed through Richmond - and ironically straight past SEN HQ - I dived for the phone. For once it rang - which means they have no listeners. Usually I’m in these things just to get on the radio, apart from my farcical performance on the Gold FM free money minute at 6.40am once last year where I won $30 after bombing out by mistaking addition for multiplication I hadn’t won a radio quiz for years. Last time was some shonky 70’s quiz on Gold (natch) in about 2000 where I got a gimme handball on a question about Elton John from somebody who’d bombed out on the second question, then I answered correct that Laverne and Shirley worked at Schotz brewery (though I wanted to call it Schotzenfelder Incorporated - a’la the theme song - until the radio bogan off-air told me to just answer “Schotz”) and then that Montreal hosted the 1976 Summer Olympics. All I got for this remarkable handicap victory (given that in ‘76 I was -5 years old) was a double pass to some shithouse IMAX ghost movie that I never used. No glory, no decent prize. What’s the point?
Anyway I went into this one hoping for a good run - then they announced that the whole point to it was that they’d tell you a sporting arena and you had to tell them what country it was on. Thanks - for - playing. I can’t even remember what the first few were but a couple of callers came and went. Suffice to say I would have gotten them all. Then as fate would have it the guy who bombed out before me died on one I didn’t know - thank god I had the Lebo there to tell me that the A-1 Ring motor racing circuit is in Austria because I haven’t watched the sport since they put a race there. So part of my success is down to him - but not enough for me to share.
The rest of it went a bit like this. I may have screwed the order up a bit because I was as nervous as. Even though I knew I was only going to win a tennis racquet.
Horse Racing circuit “The Curragh”. Republic of Ireland - got it. Even said “Republic of” which should have got me more points
Rugby stadium “The Millenium Stadium”. Wales. Too easy - even if it’s a soccer football stadium to me. What’s Rugby?
Soccer stadium “The Maracana”. Brazil. Despite being the biggest sitter of them all I actually balked on this one for a split second. I had to think about it before getting it right.
Snooker stadium “The Crucible”. England. As I said live to air “I narrowed it down to the only place in the world that cares about snooker”.
Cricket ground “The Wanderers”. South Africa. Ultra-quick process of elimination said it had to be from an anglo-esque country, that they’d already done one from the West Indies before I came on and that it wasn’t Australian, English or from New Zealand. Done.
There were more. I can’t remember what they were now. Tension was too high.
The final one - they were pumping me up on air and saying what a gun I was so I couldn’t possibly fail on this or all would be lost. No tennis racquet, reputation shattered, no tennis racquet.
Baseball stadium - (at this point I knew I was home) “The Skydome”. Canada. Thanks for playing. Let’s all go have a tennis tonk. When they said Baseball as a final question I knew it wasn’t going to be somewhere in the USA and that if it was Japanese or Mexican the name would have given it away. Waves of relief rippled throughout the car. Victory was mine. An eight question blast that destroyed the line-up of bogans they had hanging on the line waiting for me to fail. The rest of the trip was spent analysing the hairier moments in the quiz. Given his contribution to the start of my streak Amul is given the right to have tennis balls waffled at him from the new racquet. Lucky boy.
The rest of the evening - coming in the next post. Get excited.
Saturday, 29 January 2005
Mollymania II
More ye olde Countdown episodes on the ABC. Who would want to actually have something important to do with their lives when they could be home watching this? Tonight’s “all over the bloody shop” schedule is as follows:
11.15pm (i.e now) - Countdown. September 16th, 1984. Featuring a frankly dis-interested Howard “I’d Like To Get To Know You Well” Jones as host, Frankie Goes To Hollywood doing a shite version of ‘War’ and Molly pulling an oh-so-subtle “I’m just going to go back into the closet” gag during some pissweak comedy sketch featuring the hatted man in a horrible blue and yellow UCLA jumper, standing besides a mad secretary with giant 80’s glasses.
During Howard’s shockingly mimed show-stopping (*cough*) performance of his hit single the cameras continually catch an audience member showing his/her appreciation of the performance by holding a middle finger aloft in his direction. He then rips off his own Top of the Pops performance by wading into the audience to shake hands and being dragged in. The pretence that he’s actually singing falls apart as an aerial shot shows him sitting on his ass laughing. Then his stage starts rotating. I love the 1980’s ABC dearly.
Meanwhile in the credits there was somebody whose job was listed as “Grams”. What do you suppose that entailed? Judging by Howard Jones’ delivery to camera he may have had a fair idea.
12.10am - Countdown. January 17th, 1982
UPDATE - This one contains a fabulously disasterous interview with Rod Stewart where he is absolutely off his nut on something and acts like a complete cunt for a good 5 minutes. I retrospectively feels sorry for Molly for the first time ever. He even does a disclaimer before it about what a complete farce the whole thing is and how they had to re-shoot the interview two hours later. I can’t work out which was the “before” and which was “after” because Rod’s an arse in both of them. Must see.
1.00am - Countdown. February 22nd, 1975
1 1/2 hrs of videos - and then for some unknown reason back to,
2.40am (approx) - Rock Arena. October 9th, 1984
More videos… Then
3.50am (app.) - Rock Arena. December 27th, 1988
The last one sounds especially shithouse. Given that, and the fact that it’s preceeded by half an hour of kick arse songs, I’ll have to try and work out how the fuck to use my video player and tape it.
Of course 99% of people who read this won’t do so until well after this programming has ended. Just letting you know what QUALITY you missed while you were out getting shitfaced
and chasing chicks/men. No regrets!
11.15pm (i.e now) - Countdown. September 16th, 1984. Featuring a frankly dis-interested Howard “I’d Like To Get To Know You Well” Jones as host, Frankie Goes To Hollywood doing a shite version of ‘War’ and Molly pulling an oh-so-subtle “I’m just going to go back into the closet” gag during some pissweak comedy sketch featuring the hatted man in a horrible blue and yellow UCLA jumper, standing besides a mad secretary with giant 80’s glasses.
During Howard’s shockingly mimed show-stopping (*cough*) performance of his hit single the cameras continually catch an audience member showing his/her appreciation of the performance by holding a middle finger aloft in his direction. He then rips off his own Top of the Pops performance by wading into the audience to shake hands and being dragged in. The pretence that he’s actually singing falls apart as an aerial shot shows him sitting on his ass laughing. Then his stage starts rotating. I love the 1980’s ABC dearly.
Meanwhile in the credits there was somebody whose job was listed as “Grams”. What do you suppose that entailed? Judging by Howard Jones’ delivery to camera he may have had a fair idea.
12.10am - Countdown. January 17th, 1982
UPDATE - This one contains a fabulously disasterous interview with Rod Stewart where he is absolutely off his nut on something and acts like a complete cunt for a good 5 minutes. I retrospectively feels sorry for Molly for the first time ever. He even does a disclaimer before it about what a complete farce the whole thing is and how they had to re-shoot the interview two hours later. I can’t work out which was the “before” and which was “after” because Rod’s an arse in both of them. Must see.
1.00am - Countdown. February 22nd, 1975
1 1/2 hrs of videos - and then for some unknown reason back to,
2.40am (approx) - Rock Arena. October 9th, 1984
More videos… Then
3.50am (app.) - Rock Arena. December 27th, 1988
The last one sounds especially shithouse. Given that, and the fact that it’s preceeded by half an hour of kick arse songs, I’ll have to try and work out how the fuck to use my video player and tape it.
Of course 99% of people who read this won’t do so until well after this programming has ended. Just letting you know what QUALITY you missed while you were out getting shitfaced
and chasing chicks/men. No regrets!
Your move Cometti
A three second blast of one of the greatest moments in sports commentary history.
The scene, the last day of the 1995-96 English Premier League season. Either Blackburn or Manchester *spit* United are going to win the league. Our hero is calling the game between Blackburn and Liverpool.. This poorly recorded soundbite taken from the DVD “Premier League Goals of the Decade”..
The ball sits just outside the penalty area as he starts. Halfway through the sentence a Liverpool player cracks a stunning long-range shot into the net…
“The jury’s still out on the championship race OH MY GOD!”
No punctuation. He just goes ballistic. It’s the most genuinely shocked reaction I’ve ever heard. Classic.
It’s this sort of freak occurance that makes a very good case for soccer football as the best sport on earth. Personally I’ll always prefer Aussie Rules as there’s more variables involved in it but the real brand of football runs a very close second. When you cut scoring down to a bare minimum it makes it so much more exciting when it does happen - and when it comes out of nowhere (i.e Matthew Le Tissier vs Wimbledon - every year of the 1990’s) it’s even more heart-stopping.
The scene, the last day of the 1995-96 English Premier League season. Either Blackburn or Manchester *spit* United are going to win the league. Our hero is calling the game between Blackburn and Liverpool.. This poorly recorded soundbite taken from the DVD “Premier League Goals of the Decade”..
The ball sits just outside the penalty area as he starts. Halfway through the sentence a Liverpool player cracks a stunning long-range shot into the net…
“The jury’s still out on the championship race OH MY GOD!”
No punctuation. He just goes ballistic. It’s the most genuinely shocked reaction I’ve ever heard. Classic.
It’s this sort of freak occurance that makes a very good case for soccer football as the best sport on earth. Personally I’ll always prefer Aussie Rules as there’s more variables involved in it but the real brand of football runs a very close second. When you cut scoring down to a bare minimum it makes it so much more exciting when it does happen - and when it comes out of nowhere (i.e Matthew Le Tissier vs Wimbledon - every year of the 1990’s) it’s even more heart-stopping.
Around The Ground
How long has it been since we did an “around the grounds” post? No really, I can’t be bothered looking it up. A while surely. Well given that since that point I’ve somewhat relaxed my nutty “no more than 20 at a time” blogroll laws and the list has exploded to an unprecedented 26 it’s time to highlight everyone’s most recent greatest hits in another TSP Wide World of Blog special. As usual feel free to read the pages in their entirety to see just how badly I’ve taken these comments out of context.
If you don’t want to know the score then look away now.
Adventure Girl
I saw two street boys attempting to pick women’s handbags in the market tonight and intrigued, I followed to watch. It wasn’t until one of them nearly succeeded that my sense of right and wrong kicked in and I yelled before I could stop myself.
After Grog Blog
As some kind of weird fiesta, Fox Classics showed Everybody Loves Raymond all through Australia Day. There are two things wrong with this, of course. One, it is American. Two, it is f**k!
Bitchin’ Monaro
One can’t help but think that the best course of action for these two Australians would be to convert to a fundamentalist form of religion and swear allegiance to a terrorist nutjob. If they did this they’d soon have an army of people rallying to their cause: children’s book authors, celebrity magistrates, AFI nominees, self appointed ‘community’ leaders, representatives of nearly extinct Christian sects, etcetera, etcetera.
Bullet Holed Messenger
I’m glad that monstrosity didn’t get any nods, because it didn’t deserve any. It wasn’t a particularly amazing film as far as films go and as a religious film it utterly stank. Mel Gibson deciding “Gee, you know if I portrayed Christ’s Passion as it was actually recorded in the Gospel, it won’t be anywhere near dramatic and bloody enough so I’ll just twist events and plain old make shit up and claim God told me to do it in a dream” doesn’t impress me at all.
Darp
Yeah, but more often than not you simply find yourself becoming friends with fellow bloggers and blog readers. The groupie element actually turns more into a roving mob thing, where your hardcore fanbase scour the blogosphere for anyone who might be slagging you off - they jump in there and defend you like crazy. It’s flattering, as are some of the offers that come your way. You know, the sort of offers that rock stars and sporting celebs would get. Flattering and a tad mind-boggling.
Desci - TSP’s Official Sex Blog
Oooh! And he’s all, inexperienced an’ stuff, so further down the track, I can be all, ‘well, since you haven’t played with many girls, you should do that. With me, together’ so I can seem all altruistic, AND get some titty action later on! Without having to cheat! Nice.
Do Not Use Lifts
For a number of reasons, I have three ‘phones each roughly equidistant from me in the infamous Telebermutions Triangle on this desk. Now, I hate ‘phones; face-to-face contact is great, email is okay, ‘phones suck. Simple as that. I want either the full sensory experience, or time to measure one’s response to try to avoid confusion; ‘phones give you too little to make up for not being able to see the other person.
Funny Face
I have a fetish for board games. I always have. Ask anyone who spends time at my house how many times they have had to endure a round of “game of life” or “trivial pursuit” or “monopoly” just to name a few. I have a vast collection, and have yet to”part with” any game I ever bought/recieved. (And yes, I even own the board game version of “where in the world is carmen sandiago?”)
Good News Fresh
Muffin pants are apparently the newest fashion craze, popularised on the ABC’s Kath and Kim program.
Hecho En Mexico
Lamul and I were at the bar, and I was buying him a drink - when the waitress quite professionally put two straws in each of our “Screwdrivers” - Lamul remarked in a non-intentional lispy voice, “Ooh! We got straws”. I saw the waitress make a fist, ready to punch him for being homophobic, so I quickly put my arm around his shoulder and led him off scalding him for the gross faux pas. She saw this act of man>man affection and let it be.
Hot Buttered Death
Blogger with best goth club dancing skills: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger with least developed sense of smell: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger most likely to scratch his/her arse: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger who most needs to go to bed before 3 a.m.: Hot Buttered Death
Special lifetime lack of achievement award: Hot Buttered Death
Jellyfish
I went with my entire family, and we had the funnest day ever. We were in a mini-van with a cheery, camp Austrian tour-guide called Pieter and a bunch of overly-earnest Americans who couldn’t understand why we kept wetting ourselves with laughter. The only disappointment was not being allowed inside the gazebo from the ‘Sixteen going on Seventeen’ scene, because of insurance woes suffered by the company after an 80-year-old woman broke her hip trying to replicate the dance routine where Liesel leaps from bench-to-bench. True.
Land Down Under
would advise all of you that if you wish to do volunteer work any time in the near future, avoid places where you’ll be situated in a so-called “mailing room”, lest the same sort of doom that afflicted me this morning come over you. I spend a few hours this morning stuffing envelopes - a few hundred of the bastards - and all so that I can get out of paying exorbitant fees. It’s not fair, I tell you.
Melbourne Scribe
Using only trains, a few buses and my feet, I plan this Friday to go from Watergardens to Stony Point, from Hurstbridge to Werribee, and everywhere in between. I’ll start from Hurstbridge at 0433 and be back there little under 21 hours later, at 0113.
More Australian Ramblings
This is part of today’s editorial from the Herald Sun. Am I reading this right? Shouldn’t it say “the wog bastard can rot in Cuba, bloody terrorist”? This is weird. Like when they wrote “A Government that stands by its actions should feel comfortable having them scrutinised in the harsh glare of daylight” about the deportation of the Bakhtiyaris.
New York, London, Paris, Munich
I’ve called this particular rhetorical move a ‘Gloria’ after its most common manifestation. “Tainted Love? (pause) Of course the Gloria Jones version is better.” Here’s how this will work - we will post a Gloria and allow a dignified day or so for comments before the Freaky Trigger Science Factopinion is deployed to answer it. I reckon Glorias are about half correct, but we’ll see. Of course at some point we’ll consider the real actual original Gloria, but for now let us begin with this:
“99 Red Balloons? The German original is much better.”
Northcote Knob
Happy Australia Day readers! I ditched the politics on either side for this one; it was just too hot in Melbourne to watch jingoistic parades or angry indigenous rock bands.
And I was hungover from the night before, where I drank pints of Magnificent Mountain Goat and played a song I wrote a couple of weeks ago to a rapturous crowd of 14 at the Wesley Anne open-mike night.
One Dog Said To The Other
We filmed up at the Police Academy in Joondalup, in a delightful little pretend-town they call the Strategic Village, where we improvised an emergency scenario involving a transformer that’d blown up or something, and which was translated visually into smoke pouring out of a High Voltage room. It turns out everything in the Strategic Village - the Chicken Treat, the Guardian Pharmacy, the Shell station - is fake except for the High Voltage Room, and assorted safety officers and management types had to stand around making sure we observed all the safety protoccols.
Piss ‘n Vinegar
Egads, who rigged the vote? After only three months in the backwaters of the blogosphere, this little site was voted Best Tasmanian Blog, an honour which really isn’t deserved.
Red Interior’s Swade (who I was sure would have won, and is runner-up) reckons he’ll be looking for personalised plates and honking horns scooting around the bustling streets of Slowbart, so just to let you know, PSSANT shall be on the Mercedes, and VINEGR will be gracing the Aston-Martin.
Robert Corr
Both the Police Minister and her Shadow say they don’t support a police decision to allow bikies riding in a funeral procession to do so without helmets. This is a big fuss over nothing. The bikies applied for a permit in accordance with the relevant legislation, and their request was granted. Who cares?
There Ain’t No Sanity Clause
“Well, what we’ve seen is a series of articles and discussions of recent times which would suggest there are no senior women in the Labor Party - there is, her name’s … Dammit, it’s right on the tip of my tongue. She’s the deputy leader bloke, you know, er ummm … she’s that short mousy sheila what sits behind the Leader of the Opposition in the House. Jessy … Joyce … Je… Bugger it, I know I was introduced to her once. I’m just shit with names. C’mon fellas work with me. Oh, stuff it, you all know who I’m talking about.” Mr Albanese said before being dragged off by several of members of the totally united ALP caucus for a short sharp cold shower.
Sexy Nerd
I currently have 2 love interests. The amazing John Zoidberg, and Orrin, a Knight from HOMM3. Orrin gains a 5% per level bonus on his Archery skill, and has a MOUSTACHE. Isn’t he damn sexy? If either of these two men crawl into my bed at night and start talking about hot naked adventures, I will be one happy lady. Sigh.
Spin Starts Here
So that issue we had last week that I promised we would never mention again? I’m going to break the silence on this momentarily, because I cannot get past the daft article regarding the subject that appeared in a dodgy UK tabloid. However, we shan’t mention the incident directly or the persons involved. You fill in the blanks.
Ubersportingpundit
On that point, it should be pointed out that the West Indies, in their glory days, had a rule that you had to play for your Island side if you wanted to be part of the Test team. So it didn’t matter that the teams only played five games a season- they were very high class games. I wonder if Australia will pay a price in the long run for keeping the Test stars out of their state teams.
Wild Young Under Whimsy
Then it came to me in a flash what had happened. You see, when I was living on Flemington Rd last year, a car whose license plate started with NWA had rammed the front of my car while retardedly attempting to parallel park. I worked this out thanks to my many years of Law & Order watching, because the burgundy paint embedded in my front bumper matched the scrape of missing burgundy paint on the back bumper of the car. This car had left my front licence plate dangling by one screw, so I tucked a passive-aggressive note under Eazy E’s windscreen (”Please do not ram my car. I do not earn very much money and cannot afford to repair it.”).
Yobbo’s View
However, one of the few remaining senators from the Australian Democrats - Andrew Bartlett - has joined in the debate on PETA’s side. Since I voted Democrat in both the upper and lower houses in the last federal election, I feel that I have a right of reply - especially since I’m about the only person in Australia who actually did vote for them.
And on that note, as the only other person in the world to vote for them this is Adam 1.0 signing off. Meanwhile if you want to be on the TSP blogroll and take advantage of our massive traffic - that has, for some reason, tripled in the last two weeks then I’m going to need to see money.
If you don’t want to know the score then look away now.
Adventure Girl
I saw two street boys attempting to pick women’s handbags in the market tonight and intrigued, I followed to watch. It wasn’t until one of them nearly succeeded that my sense of right and wrong kicked in and I yelled before I could stop myself.
After Grog Blog
As some kind of weird fiesta, Fox Classics showed Everybody Loves Raymond all through Australia Day. There are two things wrong with this, of course. One, it is American. Two, it is f**k!
Bitchin’ Monaro
One can’t help but think that the best course of action for these two Australians would be to convert to a fundamentalist form of religion and swear allegiance to a terrorist nutjob. If they did this they’d soon have an army of people rallying to their cause: children’s book authors, celebrity magistrates, AFI nominees, self appointed ‘community’ leaders, representatives of nearly extinct Christian sects, etcetera, etcetera.
Bullet Holed Messenger
I’m glad that monstrosity didn’t get any nods, because it didn’t deserve any. It wasn’t a particularly amazing film as far as films go and as a religious film it utterly stank. Mel Gibson deciding “Gee, you know if I portrayed Christ’s Passion as it was actually recorded in the Gospel, it won’t be anywhere near dramatic and bloody enough so I’ll just twist events and plain old make shit up and claim God told me to do it in a dream” doesn’t impress me at all.
Darp
Yeah, but more often than not you simply find yourself becoming friends with fellow bloggers and blog readers. The groupie element actually turns more into a roving mob thing, where your hardcore fanbase scour the blogosphere for anyone who might be slagging you off - they jump in there and defend you like crazy. It’s flattering, as are some of the offers that come your way. You know, the sort of offers that rock stars and sporting celebs would get. Flattering and a tad mind-boggling.
Desci - TSP’s Official Sex Blog
Oooh! And he’s all, inexperienced an’ stuff, so further down the track, I can be all, ‘well, since you haven’t played with many girls, you should do that. With me, together’ so I can seem all altruistic, AND get some titty action later on! Without having to cheat! Nice.
Do Not Use Lifts
For a number of reasons, I have three ‘phones each roughly equidistant from me in the infamous Telebermutions Triangle on this desk. Now, I hate ‘phones; face-to-face contact is great, email is okay, ‘phones suck. Simple as that. I want either the full sensory experience, or time to measure one’s response to try to avoid confusion; ‘phones give you too little to make up for not being able to see the other person.
Funny Face
I have a fetish for board games. I always have. Ask anyone who spends time at my house how many times they have had to endure a round of “game of life” or “trivial pursuit” or “monopoly” just to name a few. I have a vast collection, and have yet to”part with” any game I ever bought/recieved. (And yes, I even own the board game version of “where in the world is carmen sandiago?”)
Good News Fresh
Muffin pants are apparently the newest fashion craze, popularised on the ABC’s Kath and Kim program.
Hecho En Mexico
Lamul and I were at the bar, and I was buying him a drink - when the waitress quite professionally put two straws in each of our “Screwdrivers” - Lamul remarked in a non-intentional lispy voice, “Ooh! We got straws”. I saw the waitress make a fist, ready to punch him for being homophobic, so I quickly put my arm around his shoulder and led him off scalding him for the gross faux pas. She saw this act of man>man affection and let it be.
Hot Buttered Death
Blogger with best goth club dancing skills: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger with least developed sense of smell: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger most likely to scratch his/her arse: Hot Buttered Death
Blogger who most needs to go to bed before 3 a.m.: Hot Buttered Death
Special lifetime lack of achievement award: Hot Buttered Death
Jellyfish
I went with my entire family, and we had the funnest day ever. We were in a mini-van with a cheery, camp Austrian tour-guide called Pieter and a bunch of overly-earnest Americans who couldn’t understand why we kept wetting ourselves with laughter. The only disappointment was not being allowed inside the gazebo from the ‘Sixteen going on Seventeen’ scene, because of insurance woes suffered by the company after an 80-year-old woman broke her hip trying to replicate the dance routine where Liesel leaps from bench-to-bench. True.
Land Down Under
would advise all of you that if you wish to do volunteer work any time in the near future, avoid places where you’ll be situated in a so-called “mailing room”, lest the same sort of doom that afflicted me this morning come over you. I spend a few hours this morning stuffing envelopes - a few hundred of the bastards - and all so that I can get out of paying exorbitant fees. It’s not fair, I tell you.
Melbourne Scribe
Using only trains, a few buses and my feet, I plan this Friday to go from Watergardens to Stony Point, from Hurstbridge to Werribee, and everywhere in between. I’ll start from Hurstbridge at 0433 and be back there little under 21 hours later, at 0113.
More Australian Ramblings
This is part of today’s editorial from the Herald Sun. Am I reading this right? Shouldn’t it say “the wog bastard can rot in Cuba, bloody terrorist”? This is weird. Like when they wrote “A Government that stands by its actions should feel comfortable having them scrutinised in the harsh glare of daylight” about the deportation of the Bakhtiyaris.
New York, London, Paris, Munich
I’ve called this particular rhetorical move a ‘Gloria’ after its most common manifestation. “Tainted Love? (pause) Of course the Gloria Jones version is better.” Here’s how this will work - we will post a Gloria and allow a dignified day or so for comments before the Freaky Trigger Science Factopinion is deployed to answer it. I reckon Glorias are about half correct, but we’ll see. Of course at some point we’ll consider the real actual original Gloria, but for now let us begin with this:
“99 Red Balloons? The German original is much better.”
Northcote Knob
Happy Australia Day readers! I ditched the politics on either side for this one; it was just too hot in Melbourne to watch jingoistic parades or angry indigenous rock bands.
And I was hungover from the night before, where I drank pints of Magnificent Mountain Goat and played a song I wrote a couple of weeks ago to a rapturous crowd of 14 at the Wesley Anne open-mike night.
One Dog Said To The Other
We filmed up at the Police Academy in Joondalup, in a delightful little pretend-town they call the Strategic Village, where we improvised an emergency scenario involving a transformer that’d blown up or something, and which was translated visually into smoke pouring out of a High Voltage room. It turns out everything in the Strategic Village - the Chicken Treat, the Guardian Pharmacy, the Shell station - is fake except for the High Voltage Room, and assorted safety officers and management types had to stand around making sure we observed all the safety protoccols.
Piss ‘n Vinegar
Egads, who rigged the vote? After only three months in the backwaters of the blogosphere, this little site was voted Best Tasmanian Blog, an honour which really isn’t deserved.
Red Interior’s Swade (who I was sure would have won, and is runner-up) reckons he’ll be looking for personalised plates and honking horns scooting around the bustling streets of Slowbart, so just to let you know, PSSANT shall be on the Mercedes, and VINEGR will be gracing the Aston-Martin.
Robert Corr
Both the Police Minister and her Shadow say they don’t support a police decision to allow bikies riding in a funeral procession to do so without helmets. This is a big fuss over nothing. The bikies applied for a permit in accordance with the relevant legislation, and their request was granted. Who cares?
There Ain’t No Sanity Clause
“Well, what we’ve seen is a series of articles and discussions of recent times which would suggest there are no senior women in the Labor Party - there is, her name’s … Dammit, it’s right on the tip of my tongue. She’s the deputy leader bloke, you know, er ummm … she’s that short mousy sheila what sits behind the Leader of the Opposition in the House. Jessy … Joyce … Je… Bugger it, I know I was introduced to her once. I’m just shit with names. C’mon fellas work with me. Oh, stuff it, you all know who I’m talking about.” Mr Albanese said before being dragged off by several of members of the totally united ALP caucus for a short sharp cold shower.
Sexy Nerd
I currently have 2 love interests. The amazing John Zoidberg, and Orrin, a Knight from HOMM3. Orrin gains a 5% per level bonus on his Archery skill, and has a MOUSTACHE. Isn’t he damn sexy? If either of these two men crawl into my bed at night and start talking about hot naked adventures, I will be one happy lady. Sigh.
Spin Starts Here
So that issue we had last week that I promised we would never mention again? I’m going to break the silence on this momentarily, because I cannot get past the daft article regarding the subject that appeared in a dodgy UK tabloid. However, we shan’t mention the incident directly or the persons involved. You fill in the blanks.
Ubersportingpundit
On that point, it should be pointed out that the West Indies, in their glory days, had a rule that you had to play for your Island side if you wanted to be part of the Test team. So it didn’t matter that the teams only played five games a season- they were very high class games. I wonder if Australia will pay a price in the long run for keeping the Test stars out of their state teams.
Wild Young Under Whimsy
Then it came to me in a flash what had happened. You see, when I was living on Flemington Rd last year, a car whose license plate started with NWA had rammed the front of my car while retardedly attempting to parallel park. I worked this out thanks to my many years of Law & Order watching, because the burgundy paint embedded in my front bumper matched the scrape of missing burgundy paint on the back bumper of the car. This car had left my front licence plate dangling by one screw, so I tucked a passive-aggressive note under Eazy E’s windscreen (”Please do not ram my car. I do not earn very much money and cannot afford to repair it.”).
Yobbo’s View
However, one of the few remaining senators from the Australian Democrats - Andrew Bartlett - has joined in the debate on PETA’s side. Since I voted Democrat in both the upper and lower houses in the last federal election, I feel that I have a right of reply - especially since I’m about the only person in Australia who actually did vote for them.
And on that note, as the only other person in the world to vote for them this is Adam 1.0 signing off. Meanwhile if you want to be on the TSP blogroll and take advantage of our massive traffic - that has, for some reason, tripled in the last two weeks then I’m going to need to see money.
Senator loves cock
Elected representative loves cockfighting. The fuck? Check out some of the choice quotes in this story,
A state senator has a plan for saving Oklahoma’s gamefowl industry now that cockfighters are legally prohibited from pitting birds fitted with razor-like spurs.
State Sen. Frank Shurden, a longtime defender of cockfighting, is suggesting that roosters be given little boxing gloves so they can fight without bloodshed. The proposal is in a bill the Henryetta Democrat has introduced for the legislative session that begins Feb. 7.
“Who’s going to object to chickens fighting like humans do? Everybody wins,” Sen. Frank Shurden said.
Oklahoma voters banned cockfighting in 2002. The practice is still legal in Louisiana and New Mexico.
Removing the blood from the sport takes away the main argument animal rights groups have against cockfighting, Shurden said.
“Let the roosters do what they love to do without getting injured,” Shurden said.
In his search for a new way to let gamecocks fight, Shurden learned about a California man who is an attorney for Gamecock Boxing Inc., which was formed to promote a nonlethal form of cockfighting.
“The company has a patent now pending on this game and the equipment designed to score the ‘hits’ of these sparring live gamefowl,” Californian John R. Cogorno wrote in a letter to Shurden.
Shurden said electronic sensors can record the number of hits by each gamefowl to determine which rooster won the boxing match.
Gamecocks would wear sparring muffs, which are padded gloves placed over their natural spurs.
“To me it answers everything. It saves the industry, takes blood sport out and generates revenue for Oklahoma,” Shurden said.
Janet Halliburton, an attorney who led the initiative petition drive to ban cockfighting, said, “What this is going to do is make a platform for him to continually try to amend the existing ban. They don’t want electronic cockfighting any more than anybody else does, or they’d be doing it.”
Shurden said he’s not trying to amend the existing cockfighting ban, something he tried the past few years without success.
Shurden’s legislation would create the Oklahoma Pari-mutuel Gamecock Boxing Act.
The Oklahoma Horse Racing Commission, which has jurisdiction over pari-mutuel horse racing, would have jurisdiction over this gamecock boxing.
Shurden believes it could be incorporated into horse racing, providing the boxing between horse races.
Some of the money earned from wagers on gamecock boxing matches would go to the state.
“I guarantee it would work,” Shurden said of the nonlethal fighting of roosters.
Who votes these people in?
A state senator has a plan for saving Oklahoma’s gamefowl industry now that cockfighters are legally prohibited from pitting birds fitted with razor-like spurs.
State Sen. Frank Shurden, a longtime defender of cockfighting, is suggesting that roosters be given little boxing gloves so they can fight without bloodshed. The proposal is in a bill the Henryetta Democrat has introduced for the legislative session that begins Feb. 7.
“Who’s going to object to chickens fighting like humans do? Everybody wins,” Sen. Frank Shurden said.
Oklahoma voters banned cockfighting in 2002. The practice is still legal in Louisiana and New Mexico.
Removing the blood from the sport takes away the main argument animal rights groups have against cockfighting, Shurden said.
“Let the roosters do what they love to do without getting injured,” Shurden said.
In his search for a new way to let gamecocks fight, Shurden learned about a California man who is an attorney for Gamecock Boxing Inc., which was formed to promote a nonlethal form of cockfighting.
“The company has a patent now pending on this game and the equipment designed to score the ‘hits’ of these sparring live gamefowl,” Californian John R. Cogorno wrote in a letter to Shurden.
Shurden said electronic sensors can record the number of hits by each gamefowl to determine which rooster won the boxing match.
Gamecocks would wear sparring muffs, which are padded gloves placed over their natural spurs.
“To me it answers everything. It saves the industry, takes blood sport out and generates revenue for Oklahoma,” Shurden said.
Janet Halliburton, an attorney who led the initiative petition drive to ban cockfighting, said, “What this is going to do is make a platform for him to continually try to amend the existing ban. They don’t want electronic cockfighting any more than anybody else does, or they’d be doing it.”
Shurden said he’s not trying to amend the existing cockfighting ban, something he tried the past few years without success.
Shurden’s legislation would create the Oklahoma Pari-mutuel Gamecock Boxing Act.
The Oklahoma Horse Racing Commission, which has jurisdiction over pari-mutuel horse racing, would have jurisdiction over this gamecock boxing.
Shurden believes it could be incorporated into horse racing, providing the boxing between horse races.
Some of the money earned from wagers on gamecock boxing matches would go to the state.
“I guarantee it would work,” Shurden said of the nonlethal fighting of roosters.
Who votes these people in?
Friday, 28 January 2005
2nd childhood
The greatest ‘lost’ board games of all time are undoubtedly the really complicated NBL basketball one from the early 90’s, the Neighbours one (can’t remember how it worked and I’ve barely ever watched the show but it was a boss game) and the Comedy Company one where you could be Col’n Carpenter, Kylie Mole or any number of pretentious Ian McFadyen characters. Can’t remember how that worked either. And of course the It’s A Knockout game with the giant Billy J Smith picture on the front cover of the box. I have such fond memories of playing the joker and destroying my opposition.
Of course the greatest board game ever - bar none - is the Game of Life. But everyone’s got that. Nobody has the NBL one. If you do, please write in and we’ll play it. As long as I get to be the Gold Coast Rollers.
Of course the greatest board game ever - bar none - is the Game of Life. But everyone’s got that. Nobody has the NBL one. If you do, please write in and we’ll play it. As long as I get to be the Gold Coast Rollers.
Boy Scouts of America: NSW Right division
Finally the rest of the world is starting to appreciate the groundbreaking work of the major Australian political parties. Even the Boy Scouts have started branch stacking,
Boy Scout volunteer Tom Willis knew something was wrong when he saw that 20 youngsters on the list for a scouting program all had the same last name: Doe.
Willis said it appeared someone was listing fake members to boost enrollment, perhaps to bring in more funding from agencies like the United Way or to make paid Boy Scout recruiters look better.
“It was just so blatant. They didn’t even try to make up names,” said Willis, a dentist from Decatur and a former Eagle Scout who serves on the board of the Greater Alabama Boy Scout Council, which runs scouting programs in northeastern Alabama.
Now the FBI is investigating whether the council padded its membership rolls. It is just the latest investigation around the country into whether the Boy Scouts have inflated their numbers.
Couldn’t you have assigned them twenty different surnames? I’ve seen a lot of membership lists with suspicious names before but never one with every name the same. Twenty people at the same P.O Box address maybe.. An entire branch paid for on one credit card perhaps.. But never the same name.
Somebody very close to me (*cough*) once made an even more cack-handed attempt at branch stacking about five years ago that foundered when somebody rang the two ‘new members’ in question and were told in no certain terms that they hated the party in question and could everyone involved please fuck off. I look forward to the Federal Police visiting that particular person any day now.
Boy Scout volunteer Tom Willis knew something was wrong when he saw that 20 youngsters on the list for a scouting program all had the same last name: Doe.
Willis said it appeared someone was listing fake members to boost enrollment, perhaps to bring in more funding from agencies like the United Way or to make paid Boy Scout recruiters look better.
“It was just so blatant. They didn’t even try to make up names,” said Willis, a dentist from Decatur and a former Eagle Scout who serves on the board of the Greater Alabama Boy Scout Council, which runs scouting programs in northeastern Alabama.
Now the FBI is investigating whether the council padded its membership rolls. It is just the latest investigation around the country into whether the Boy Scouts have inflated their numbers.
Couldn’t you have assigned them twenty different surnames? I’ve seen a lot of membership lists with suspicious names before but never one with every name the same. Twenty people at the same P.O Box address maybe.. An entire branch paid for on one credit card perhaps.. But never the same name.
Somebody very close to me (*cough*) once made an even more cack-handed attempt at branch stacking about five years ago that foundered when somebody rang the two ‘new members’ in question and were told in no certain terms that they hated the party in question and could everyone involved please fuck off. I look forward to the Federal Police visiting that particular person any day now.
Thursday, 27 January 2005
Smash McNasty
He may very well have been the first man to take direct action against the high price of snackfood at major sporting events, and his car ad thrilled… somebody. But these days anytime you see the words Damir Dokic in a news story you’re assured that it’s going to be further evidence of what a complete cunt he is.
Quoth Fox Sports,
SERBIAN and former Australian tennis player Jelena Dokic has had surgery on her nose to correct breathing problems allegedly caused when her father hit her, according to reports in Croatia.
Weekly newspaper Extra quoted Zagreb doctor Duje Ostojic who performed the surgery at his clinic.
“The top of her nose was operated on. This will allow her to breathe normally,” Dr Ostojic said.
The newspaper claimed Dokic was hit by her father Damir some time in the last two years and the blow damaged her nose.
She has reportedly had breathing problems in the last year as a result.
The newspaper also wrote that Dokic’s controversial father had threatened her with violence on many occasions over poor results on the court.
Dokic cut off her ties with her father following a number of incidents at tournaments that led him to be banned from courtside at grand slams and other major tennis events.
Last year before Wimbledon, he was reported in the Serbian media as saying he thought it would be best if his daughter was kidnapped and taken away from her coach and boyfriend whom he blamed for her fall in world rankings.
“Quite literarily, she should be kidnapped to save her from her boyfriend and her coach,” he said.
He added he believed she was using drugs and kidnapping was the only way to save her and return her to top form.
Damir Dokic has repeatedly blamed his daughter’s Croatian coach Borna Bikic and his brother, Jelena’s boyfriend Tino Bikic, for her lower ranking.
“The two of them are people of dubious moral and professional standards,” he had said.
“I want WTA to ask for additional psychiatric and doping tests for my daughter to confirm whether she uses illegal substances.
“Two years ago she was the fourth player in the world and look where is she now on the WTA list. This happened because she stopped having a relationship with her family.”
Check out that second last paragraph. Capt’n Nutbags actually wants them to give her psychiatric tests.
What a soap opera that girl’s career turned out to be. It was all very tragic. Even when the rest of the nation were frantically pulling themselves as she knocked then #1 Martina Hingis out of Wimbledon a few years ago I couldn’t get excited. She always looked as if she was doing the whole sporting thing with a gun pressed firmly in her lower back.
Obviously she left the big split with the Capt’n a bit too late as she now resides in the “where are they now” file. I’m sure, though, given the choice of being an obscure journeyman (woman?) tennis-player or having a complete fuckwit physically abuse us and run every aspect of our lives that most of us would gladly choose anonymity.
Her opponent in that quickly forgotten first round match had the right idea. Martina Hingis got sick of the game, took her millions of dollars and headed for the hills before she even reached her mid 20’s. Seems like the sensible option to me.
Quoth Fox Sports,
SERBIAN and former Australian tennis player Jelena Dokic has had surgery on her nose to correct breathing problems allegedly caused when her father hit her, according to reports in Croatia.
Weekly newspaper Extra quoted Zagreb doctor Duje Ostojic who performed the surgery at his clinic.
“The top of her nose was operated on. This will allow her to breathe normally,” Dr Ostojic said.
The newspaper claimed Dokic was hit by her father Damir some time in the last two years and the blow damaged her nose.
She has reportedly had breathing problems in the last year as a result.
The newspaper also wrote that Dokic’s controversial father had threatened her with violence on many occasions over poor results on the court.
Dokic cut off her ties with her father following a number of incidents at tournaments that led him to be banned from courtside at grand slams and other major tennis events.
Last year before Wimbledon, he was reported in the Serbian media as saying he thought it would be best if his daughter was kidnapped and taken away from her coach and boyfriend whom he blamed for her fall in world rankings.
“Quite literarily, she should be kidnapped to save her from her boyfriend and her coach,” he said.
He added he believed she was using drugs and kidnapping was the only way to save her and return her to top form.
Damir Dokic has repeatedly blamed his daughter’s Croatian coach Borna Bikic and his brother, Jelena’s boyfriend Tino Bikic, for her lower ranking.
“The two of them are people of dubious moral and professional standards,” he had said.
“I want WTA to ask for additional psychiatric and doping tests for my daughter to confirm whether she uses illegal substances.
“Two years ago she was the fourth player in the world and look where is she now on the WTA list. This happened because she stopped having a relationship with her family.”
Check out that second last paragraph. Capt’n Nutbags actually wants them to give her psychiatric tests.
What a soap opera that girl’s career turned out to be. It was all very tragic. Even when the rest of the nation were frantically pulling themselves as she knocked then #1 Martina Hingis out of Wimbledon a few years ago I couldn’t get excited. She always looked as if she was doing the whole sporting thing with a gun pressed firmly in her lower back.
Obviously she left the big split with the Capt’n a bit too late as she now resides in the “where are they now” file. I’m sure, though, given the choice of being an obscure journeyman (woman?) tennis-player or having a complete fuckwit physically abuse us and run every aspect of our lives that most of us would gladly choose anonymity.
Her opponent in that quickly forgotten first round match had the right idea. Martina Hingis got sick of the game, took her millions of dollars and headed for the hills before she even reached her mid 20’s. Seems like the sensible option to me.
Hose gags aplenty
I have decided that as of Monday I’m going to FIREFIGHTER UNIVERSITY!
Four Sacramento, California firefighters who admitted to having sex while on duty have been suspended pending an investigation, a spokesman for the city’s fire department said on Tuesday. The three men, including a captain, admitted to having sex with a fourth firefighter, a woman, while on duty… The probe follows an investigation after city firefighters attended a local porn-star costume ball last July.
[…]
“The four individuals have admitted to having sex in the firehouse,” said Captain Niko King, a spokesman for the department. “They even conspired to keep it secret by putting one person on watch so they wouldn’t get caught.”
Finally a rewarding career that can give me the sort of benefits and career incentives that I’ve been looking for.
Four Sacramento, California firefighters who admitted to having sex while on duty have been suspended pending an investigation, a spokesman for the city’s fire department said on Tuesday. The three men, including a captain, admitted to having sex with a fourth firefighter, a woman, while on duty… The probe follows an investigation after city firefighters attended a local porn-star costume ball last July.
[…]
“The four individuals have admitted to having sex in the firehouse,” said Captain Niko King, a spokesman for the department. “They even conspired to keep it secret by putting one person on watch so they wouldn’t get caught.”
Finally a rewarding career that can give me the sort of benefits and career incentives that I’ve been looking for.
Musical Whinge
Is it just me that think it’s a bit pissweak when bands walk off and then mysteriously reappear two minutes later after the assembled bogans have yelled “MORE! MORE! MORE!” Tradition be damned - it’s a farce. The encore is usually on the set-list - there’s no doubt that they’re going to come back - so you can retain your dignity and hear more songs.
I’d like to see an entire audience just leave the moment the lights go on and the band walk off. Then they come back, nobody’s there and they end up playing encores to an empty room a’la New Order. Or when one of those announcer jackoffs does a “DO YOU WANT MORE?” speech the entire crowd just goes mild and yells back “YEH, IF YOU CAN BE BOTHERED. I’D RATHER GO HOME TO BE HONEST”.
And anybody who leaves their one hit wonder until the encore should be shot. I’m still burning over MC Hammer at Flinders Park in 1990 - the crowd almost rioted when he didn’t do U Can’t Touch This until the encore.
I’d like to see an entire audience just leave the moment the lights go on and the band walk off. Then they come back, nobody’s there and they end up playing encores to an empty room a’la New Order. Or when one of those announcer jackoffs does a “DO YOU WANT MORE?” speech the entire crowd just goes mild and yells back “YEH, IF YOU CAN BE BOTHERED. I’D RATHER GO HOME TO BE HONEST”.
And anybody who leaves their one hit wonder until the encore should be shot. I’m still burning over MC Hammer at Flinders Park in 1990 - the crowd almost rioted when he didn’t do U Can’t Touch This until the encore.
Going off for Australia
How entertaining is it that for the second consecutive year Little Lleyton Hewitt was interrupted in the middle of an important tennis match on centre court of Melbourne Park by Australia Day fireworks? After last year’s scandal when John So pushed the big red button and “our” Lleyton went to pieces he must have almost shed a tear when he heard the explosions start last night.
Meanwhile watch the entire nation pretend they’re huge tennis fans as they punt him home in the semi final. If he wins then more power to him but I can’t be the only one who’s starting to die of boredom everytime the media - or bogan fans - start analysing him, the way he acts on court or his relationships. I just don’t care. It’s hard to find sympathy for the filthy rich but it’s much easier to work on scorn for suburban bogans who fill the huge voids in their life by living vicariously through a sports star.
UPDATE - Anti Lleyton backlash! Please expect forty overweight women from Niddrie at your house after dark tonight. They will be burning giant tennis racquets on your lawn.
Meanwhile watch the entire nation pretend they’re huge tennis fans as they punt him home in the semi final. If he wins then more power to him but I can’t be the only one who’s starting to die of boredom everytime the media - or bogan fans - start analysing him, the way he acts on court or his relationships. I just don’t care. It’s hard to find sympathy for the filthy rich but it’s much easier to work on scorn for suburban bogans who fill the huge voids in their life by living vicariously through a sports star.
UPDATE - Anti Lleyton backlash! Please expect forty overweight women from Niddrie at your house after dark tonight. They will be burning giant tennis racquets on your lawn.
Wednesday, 26 January 2005
Kountdown Korner update
Triple J Hottest 100 2004. Over. I barely listened to any of it as I frankly couldn’t be bothered. There’s a link to the entire thing here but it’s time to take a look at my selections and predictions and see how we fared.
First of all the three absolute locks I picked for the top ten. In the least surprising result in history all three of them (Take Me Out, Scar and Black fucking Betty) made it, finishing 1st, 2nd and 5th respectively. No surprises there. No real arguments either - other than Black Betty - the other two might not have been my thing but at least they enjoyed wide ranging appeal across the year rather than two minutes of bandwagon popularity. What about my selections?
The White Stripes - Jolene (10th)
Modest Mouse - Float On (11th)
Scissor Sisters - Take Your Mama (23rd)
Scissor Sisters - Comfortably Numb (92nd)
Har Mar Superstar - DUI (Didn’t make it)
Morrissey - Irish Blood, English Heart (Nup)
Goldie Lookin’ Chain - Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do (Possibly #101)
Le Tigre - TKO (No show)
The Rakes - Strasbourg (Never a chance)
Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict A Riot (Even less..)
Glad I didn’t bother to listen if only four of my picks cracked the list.
First of all the three absolute locks I picked for the top ten. In the least surprising result in history all three of them (Take Me Out, Scar and Black fucking Betty) made it, finishing 1st, 2nd and 5th respectively. No surprises there. No real arguments either - other than Black Betty - the other two might not have been my thing but at least they enjoyed wide ranging appeal across the year rather than two minutes of bandwagon popularity. What about my selections?
The White Stripes - Jolene (10th)
Modest Mouse - Float On (11th)
Scissor Sisters - Take Your Mama (23rd)
Scissor Sisters - Comfortably Numb (92nd)
Har Mar Superstar - DUI (Didn’t make it)
Morrissey - Irish Blood, English Heart (Nup)
Goldie Lookin’ Chain - Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do (Possibly #101)
Le Tigre - TKO (No show)
The Rakes - Strasbourg (Never a chance)
Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict A Riot (Even less..)
Glad I didn’t bother to listen if only four of my picks cracked the list.
From TSP to you - with love
TSP = NOT the Victorian Blog of the year*. The prominent Italian plumbing figure pictured above was so distressed at the turn of events that he decided to go the goatse option at the top of the page as promised. And rightfully so too.
Now I’m off to the post-ceremony party to do crack cocaine with Pete Doherty and attempt to shag a notable Hollywood skank. Simultaneously.
* To be honest I haven’t even seen the result yet. I think it’s a fair assumption though.
** We apolgise for any distress caused by the above picture. Please tell your children that it’s something else. What? I have no idea. Make it up. You lie about Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny don’t you? Shouldn’t be too hard to cover up the aforementioned Italian plumber showing his ass.
*** I was going to turn the comments off so people couldn’t even complain. But then I realised that there’s 20 days worth of other posts that you’d just whinge in instead. So I didn’t bother. Go wild!
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