Friday, 30 May 2008

NSW - The Parlous State

I’ve lost the keys to my letterbox and been quoted a sizeable sum to have them cut from the lock. Surely the federal government can do something about reducing the cost of key cutting; it controls housing prices, interest rates and the cost of petrol . People shuldnthaffta pay so much to access their mail. Snot fair. You’ve got to do something about it Kruddy, goddamit.

OH speaking of sanctimonious drawers, god not krudd (in this instance), its earthly representative, well the one after god's son so selflessly sacrificed himself to enable the wannabeeffluent to whinge eternal, is coming to Sydney.

Oh yes it’s World Pope Day in Sydney this July - proudly supported by the NSW Government.

Gordon Benedict.

The Parlous State’s government is issuing media releases advising workers in the ceebeedee or near any of the other areas where his holiness goes during that period to take leave. This was its solution for the Olympics, APEC, the beautiful big love boats docking in the Harbour, and now World Youth Day. NSW the state where planning is world-arse.

How much room does a popemobile require?

They’ll need the workers out and about frankly. How much pulling power does Pope Benedict have? Do the Catholic youth of today have something to say apart from pass the Eucharist on the left hand side. Perhaps the Catholic Church will borrow some young Crusader groovers from Hillsong? Padres and bonnes soeurs are currently scouting Gloria Jean’s for some additional pilgrims.

Oh I mustn’t be so negative. Each to her/his own beliefs and freedom to worship and whatnot. To have religious faith must be extraordinary and the new testament is a top read, yours Pollyanna. It's the government's city lockout solution that gets my goat. Surely the whole thing could have been staged at Olympic Park.

World Pope Day will be a gala week with the stations of the cross scattered about the city and Randwick, there'll be that spunky young man playing Jesus (Yes, Trevor White's grandson), a Saint’s corpse being paraded, and text messages from Pope Benedict to all World Youth Day pilgrims - HILSR (He is like so risen), HCB (hot cross buns), UFM (you flay me).

So really it’s all utterly moderne and progressive; could never be likened to some medieval pageant.

Thank goodness for the separation of Church and state.

Now if we could just separate the Vice Squad from the Yartz.

Oh the furore and scandale surrounding those photos of adolescents. It's the moral outrage expressed by state and fed pollies, media columnists and certain activists that has been revolting. What an utter downer, well more of a Howard actually but no, it was a Krudd.

This is the dawning of the age of Victoria , the age of Victoria…

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

OK yah

Oh hello there pet and lambs and members of Generations Jones, X, Whine and Zzzz. I hope you are well. I am having a bit of a May's almost over posting in cyberspace frenzy - two posts in 20 minutes you wouldn't credit it.

Johnson lent me Tina Brown’s the Diana Chronicles. It’s a top read about all them hons and vons.

At the mo Charles and D are still married, and, in between Deeeahna hurling (down the honker or herself down the stairs - yeah that’s a direct quote from Princess Michael of Kent to moi, confidente de luxe to SS offspring, me), Di’s suffering the interminable August hols at Sandringham with not much stoicism, some nights feature Princess Margaret entertaining the fam playing show tunes on the piahno until 2 a.m. - The thought of ma’am darling on the ivories singing songs from Camelot and High Society entertains me no end but i guess it'd be particularly rum and stuffy if you were teetotal and only into Dire Straits or Wham! - Di's childhood was indeed deprived; if only there had been Bill Collins' Golden Years of Hollywood in Blighty she and Margo would have fit like hand and glove; or annoying all the fam by usurping their limelight and being adored by press and plebs globally.

I’ve also learnt that Pris Cholls likes to be called Arthur (his second middle name) at the height of sessuale satisfaction. However what I found curious about this was how the request would be conveyed to the lover, via equerry or the Prince?

When I told one of my friends (I have several, no truly, ohwuh I do so, get) that i was reading the book, she confessed to having a soft spot for Lady Di for alleged friend was in London at the time of engagement and the same age as the Liedee. Well not any more sweetheart, you’re older than she’ll ever be, as am I. In fact said friend was born the day before Lady Di. And the spooky similarities well they just never began from there.

I mean to say, how many people do you know enter potato sack races willy nilly, well apart from the family Brady.

Music is my life my life is music

Why you know that ain’t the truth, sugar but I tell you what the past week and a half my dreams have featured music blaring. Big time.

Most mornings I’ve been waking with Psmith’s Rocknroll nigger in my head, and can you spare a thought for the disturbance felt when I just woke up with the so-called Babelogue (oh brother that's some kool term) of said song going round and round my poor old noggin.

Then last night I had this dream which was meant to be set in friends’ house in Mel but their house had turned into this extraordinary Laurel Canyon mansion complete with sweeping driveway, conversation pits, sandstone fireplaces and decoratively balustraded staircase, no I was not sliding down its banisters and honking horns Harpo Marx style that was the week before.

It was a swinging party, almost as good as the real one I went to last week, alas sans vision in pink tutu, frou frou and grey tights but that's for another post. Oh and everyone I didn’t know was at dream party. Unfortunately no Warren Beatty but there was Jamie C begging to put his hand in people’s pockets.

Anyway, that dream featured two songs blaring: Brand new Key and ruddy Congratulations (boom boom boom) and has left me somewhat distrait.

Friday, 9 May 2008

Things that matter #2020

Don't panic, Jonesy, am not about to launch into another twenny twenny summit monodrone. No, am instead going to treat you and nsrs 1 and 2 to thoughts that have been revolving, like a fancy rest-o-ront, in my brain for the past five days- a thought a day keeps intellectual rigour away.

On Monday Wayne Swan was sounding like a cranky primary school deputy principal at assembly. Yes, Malcolm Turnbull is smug, smart and very self-assured, and to put it mildly, annoying but Wayne get a grip. I am expecting WS to don shorts, long socks, slick back his hair and call MT a rude article then bark at him to leave the line and go to the Office - or is that just a flashback to April 1975 - oh the living and loving and learning that was my primary hedgucation - Brian Cadd how did you know.

Ant Music. Since Tuesday night when strolling back from King Street wharf after a delicious dinner and fun evening out I've had that dicky song on my brain. Not because i was dining with Marco or Garry Tibbs but because while walking back to St James, kept hearing pedestrians tip tapping across the streets' metal manhole covers, thus replicating the intro to Ant Music. By the by, Fool's Gold has a similar beginning to Ant Music, well vaguely similar it features metallic sounding percussion but is a lot shorter...Nevertheless the mind's soundtrack has been alternating between Ant Music and Fool's Gold.

New womantic one day; mad aceeed smiley raver the next. Rollercoaster of milestones in pop music this week, nsrs.

Working family. Cockadoodleboohoo. There's no-one out there doing it tougher, is it a crime to aspirate... Get your working fam on board bumper stickers from NSR now. They're tastefully designed; the slogan is flanked by a delightful Anne Geddes portrait of byebee in flower pot and a McMansion in the background.

As for the now. Like i would know but am surprised by the 2 glasses of booze per day cancer link - surely peanut butter is more harmful?

Oh dear this post is beginning to sound bileous and ridiculous I must be channelling Lexie Downer. Oh my. I'm sure your French is sensational, pet, just not that pratique in Asia.

Have a good weekend, nsrs. I will for I'm exploring the harbour foreshore where gold ingots and fountains of ginger pop abound.