Thursday, 31 July 2008

scooters, vacation, fall

No i'm not talking about that crazy summer holiday past where i merrily vespa-ed along the narrow Amalfi Coast roads with Rock and Gina and Gore and Howard until i fell off the scooter and realised that the joke was on me. References to 60's Bee Gees are so hip these days if only that'd been the case in 75. O one's woe is practically Janisian. Nevertheless that summer in the early 60's was marvellous and i promise to share it with you another day.

Ectually the post's title features words that are's suggested labels for this post but i thought i'd go one better and make it a heading. Do you like that Blogsy? Does that make you happy? Approbation PLEASE.

I really don't want to share much more or moan, so it's a toodes dudes, which is what all the olds say to the young these days, to you, and telly time for me. Ta Ta.

Monday, 28 July 2008

A Blyt on the landscape

It certainly looks like my magic faraway tree has snippety-snoo land on its tippety top this week. I'm constantly being sprayed with vinegar by administrative types across the ceebeedee. I am in soupe centrale. The rude articles need their gall bladders checked as they're clearly producing too much bile.

Things that matter - the Final

I guess I’ll have to stop using that heading now that Little Lexie’s left and gorne abroad. So sad. At least I’ve got the LNP to buoy my spirits. Now that is one progressive move for those conservatives, and possibly a boon for the descendant of Captain Bligh.

Anyway I don’t really need the LNP to buoy my spirits as I’ve been feeling rather chipper this past week, despite the return to work, i guess it's because of the recent visit by that Pope Star.

If only Pope were still JP2 as I could have given him the witty title of His Polishness or His Squeakiness. I have to say I was rather fascinated by Benedetto's red shoes,il papa and SJBarker - unfathomable phenomenons who are crazy about shoes, and the religious fervour - happy and mad as all-get-out are those pilgrims. The sight of those young gels jumping up and down on the steps of the Cathedral, where that medieval Cardinal plots and proselytises, chanting “Benedetto, Benedetto” “Where is the Pope? Where is the Pope? We want him now” was bamboozling. It also led to fond thoughts of Mickey J at 33 and then as Stella Street shopkeeper ordering supplies of Lemsip. Unfortunately there was no slowmo waving of banners or Mick at 33 leering and astride an inflatable cock. oh where have those good times gone! Mickey...

Autumn/Winter collection for the Holy See.


Baby J Day


Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Word on the street

I was stretching my limbs down the main drag yesterday afternoon, en route to the hardware, when a poster on a telegraph pole shouted, "SHAM 69 Fri Gaelic Club", and before I could groan, "Gordon" , the next telegraph pole's poster snickered and boomed, "DEVO Aug Hordern Pav". I really don't know which would be worse - i'm talking about the bands not the venues. What do you think, Dot?

It's after your time, Ena, but feel free to opine. Hmmm " they're no better than they ought be..." per chance?

Sunday, 13 July 2008

You've got to work hard for the fun ones

well that's what Jerry Hall said. I have always found that quote amusing but cannot for the life of me understand why it floated forth this morning. I am not working hard and as for these so-called "fun ones" - who the fuck are they? I don't think i've found a rake amusing for at least a decade, and well , I couldn't find anyone more entertaining than myself and my scintillating set of imaginary friends.

The manifestation of so silly an utterance is particularly perplexing after having completed the 2nd instalment of Gore Vidal's memoirs, which features the most magnificently entertaining lectures, anecdotes and quotes delivered in the patrician, witty, biting, erudite, vituperious, superior and didactic glory that is GV. So refreshing.

I guess i was thinking of Jerry because i had discovered that my favourite lipstick was discontinued and just didn't know what to do. Oh lordamumsamercy me I cried. Fortunately this triggered a flashback to me, natch, in the late 70's, sitting on a green footstool, chez paternal grandparents, flipping through the enormous Womens Weekly to read an interview with Jerry Hall in which she lamented about a similar lipstick dilemma and recommended that you just scrape the lipstick's remains with a lip brush. She also disclosed that she kept her hairs long for her man. It was an enlightening read, and the advice has clearly proved indispensible.

I have practically recovered from the physical sickness. Once i got over the nasty 'flu business and being annoyed that it coincided with my holiday (for the first four days of the malady (oh for some reason I hear Parker addressing Lady Penelope) i attempted to cure myself by imbibing one glass of champagne daily but that seemed to make me sicker, so i bathed in the remainder, it was only Grandin, my dears) i found recuperation rather lovely.

I had the Gore book and A single man and a series by Simon Raven to read; I was in a state of same-sexualiste author bliss, furthermore no Womens Weekly, no telly - teev's even got too tawdry for me, and eggflips galore!!

Now that i'm better all i want to do is tell my friends the Gore anecdotes and quotes; they are brilliant and so applicable to one's quotidian. Please note that i don't let trip from my ever lingua franca quotations of the Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker variety; hmm just those of J. Hall - oh brother... Merely something will remind me of an amusing Gore anecdote that i am compelled to divulge... It's never boring and i don't palm it off as my own; the latter is a most vexatious trait.

Have you ever had your anecdotes or observations recounted back to you? It's queer ain't it. You feel like you're being gaslighted. Oh sorry that was you who rebuked me for doing that the other day... whoopsy.

Why it's a dilemma of Keith and Danny Partridge proportions; perhaps worthy of a two parter in Degrassi Junior High.

Yeah, cocking major.

Signing off now for there is beetling about to be done and holidays to be had.

Monday, 7 July 2008

Controversial corner #90210

Do you think Kruddy and Hetty and Morrie and Barry, and all the other moralising fools, have heard of the Led Zeppelin rock group? I think i have. Apparently, the ledbellies, as those in the know called 'em, made terrible honky cock rock music but their lp covers were like total art Oh and there is one other piece of vital information i know about that band of minstrels - their lead guitartiste washed his locks in Pantene.

I'm pretty certain that Kruddy and Hetty have heard of blind faith, well probably not the band whose lp cover David raised to my Houses of the Holy reference at the time of the Henson "scandale" .

Oh where oh where do we draw the line between art and pornography?

Oh and while you're there, ponder "frrreeedom fighter or terrorist". And by all means discuss among yourselves, hold press conferences and perhaps even film yourselves on your mobes and digicams while giving the press conference.

Friday, 4 July 2008

Don't let that basket fall!

On Tuesday i had a rather crackpot day at work. Well in truth it was probably one who was crackpot. First i attributed it to feeling seedy; I'd had 4 glasses of vino to celebrate Alice's birthday the night before . This really shouldn't have made one hung but i thought that the old bod was adjusting to the new government guidelines for what constitutes binge drinking. It transpired i was coming down with a cold, actually some 'fluish thing as i am still running a temperature...

Anyway it was a day of finishing stuff before hols while also having to attend a few meetings. Meetings are generally tiresome because they are bang-on sessions that resolve nothing and just encourage self-aggrandisement and inane prattle - yes, i know you'd be in your element.

The first one attended was at lunch break and was meant to be an information session about superannuation. Ten minutes into the meeting this ridiculously garrulous presenter cautioned attendees that he couldn't provide any financial advice. I returned to my beautiful cubicle to endure a most vexatious Yes Minister style discussion with an 81 year old assistant; it's like i'm supervising my father...

30 minutes later I bailed from the discussion, which was verging on a dispute of most absurd proportions, to attend a work meeting.

The Chair of the meeting was not very commanding. We had to comment on the final draft of some internal policy. We duly commented and approved it subject to a couple of amendments... We then waited for the next directive from Chair, i.e. dis-missed or some additional information. We waited. Oh how we waited. We looked around the room. We scratched our ears. We looked to the ceiling. We shifted in our seats. Silence prevailed. We looked sideways. We looked downwards. We looked across the table. I caught a colleague's eye and pulled puzzled lunatic expression. We cleared our throats. Still nothing happened. It was as gripping as those ten minutes in Romper Room when the cameras filmed the kiddies drinking their milk and all you could hear was the children's breathy guzzling of their milky snorts.

Then I heard my voice say, "so, we will just ah submit this to the Executive and ah..." (vague waving and rolling of hands to convey some important active step). The majority of attendees then scrooched back their seats and bolted, leaving Chair behind looking at us benignly from the table, where to this day she no doubt remains.

Tuesday, 1 July 2008

A-vauntin' she will go

Today is


It's pure arithmetic, don't ye know.

Yesterday was Madame's birthday. Well may she be French but man is she OLD. Old I tell you. Old and vieille as yesterday. I feel rather guilty being so young and jeune and sans souci but what can you do. At least she'll always have my friendship.

I chided a jetsetter acquaintance, let's just call her Sputnik, for forgetting Madam's birthday. I received a curiously unapologetic text:

given the life I've been leading it is amazing that I can remember my name.

Oh nsrs, what happened to courtesy, guilt and self-restraint?

A fortnight ago I saw Richard Neville, then last week i saw Jeannie Little. Hazard a guess which baby-boomer star from the Mike Walsh Show this week will bring. I was also fortunate to happen upon Geoffrey Robertson. He has a wonderful face, kind of like that of a nice crocodile. Both he and Dicky have marvellously luxuriant heads of hair.

Are people still down on the baby-boomers? I can't get enough of them.

Marbles lost and seediness set-in, a situation that is utterly win-win.