Tuesday, 30 September 2008

The Head Boy

So hard up

In poppa’s rented flat

Battlin' on

In Sydney Grammar crested flannel

Chompin' happy snax and fruit tingles

Enormous head nutting out future Singo jingles

All while swotting over prep and the Fin Review

Man of many metiers from Struggle St Vaucluse

So a-lone

In poppa’s rented flat

Vaunting ambition

Volcanic in Sydney Grammar flannel

Monday, 29 September 2008


Forget snake, leopard and cow skin prints you vacuous fashionistas, foxy baristas and twisted, scissory, Shakespeare's sisters for giraffe skin print is it and totally in the NOW.

It’s true.

There must be a fever in the fashion houses like you would not believe. Well it has impressed me.

At lunch time I passed a woman wearing a magnificent giraffe print ensemble. Curiously she was also petite, about 5”3 in high heels. Inspired by such boldness, or was it 'tude?, I stooped down to cup her chin with my enormous gloved hand and cooed “we can all have our dreams, can’t we, sweetness."

Thursday, 18 September 2008

Schlemiel Schemozzel NSW Incorporated

And, sweetheart, we sure as hell are doing it our way. The disarray of the NSW Government has penetrated my sub-conscious (won’t bore you about the dreams at this point) and worse, spilled over to ecclesiastical administration.

The other night en route to the Tupper Parish Hall to deposit some of my treasures, on loan to Rev Philpott for his spring gala fete, which he insists on calling the Vesta Festa Primavera Situazione (Dante Alighieri classes for seniors Tuesday nights alert), I experienced a most unsettling awakening. As I veered left at the Rectory, my stride, general sense of self-importance, abundant community spirit and gaze were arrested by this:

"Tony Martin IS Reverend Bob!", I cried, dropping clipboard and upturning granny smith cardboard box causing the enormous pastel coloured ribbons to float on the breeze (soiling and entangling themselves with plastic bags that were having Alan Ball moments - oh the profondite!) as the K-Tel merry month of Maypole parts clanged to the ground.

Oh the disarray.

In truth, had the Rev behind this caper been Motorcycle Bob there would have been some allusion to Rocktober not this verily, verily wickede Gothickeria.

Rev Philpott has not gone doo-lally but his career has gone belly-up.

In fact, last weekend Tupper Parish Council was stormed! The Bishop booted out the Rector, leaf blowers, fluoro vests, grey power, Collins pocket Italian dictionary et al.

New Rev is commencing celebrations for Gothstock, which has usurped the Rocktober labour day long weekend. So no spring fete, maypole dancing or mud baths an' topless dames atop their men's shoulders; shame.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008


and I do not mean Donny Fanta Pants.

Sunday, 14 September 2008


Another instalment in this magnificent series.

Actoring master class with Stefan Dennis

Yesterday afternoon I attended a get-to-know-you session with the Master and his ensemble before commencing on ten master class sessions.

It generally went well. I cruised (no, i do not mean hamming it up and continuously pulling a "disarmingly sexy grin") through the vocal exercises, improv and did a magnificent tree - a dying Murray river red gum. Stefan's insistence that we sport black leggings and black skivvies in 30 degree heat had initially annoyed me but do you know what, i think it may have facilitated what Stefan called emotional recall or perhaps it was my being-in-the moment. No matter i am sure i'll eventually get a grip on the techniques, well their names at least.

I do believe that there is indeed a method to the Master...

Thursday, 11 September 2008

Hand across your stateline

The NSW Government has usurped the NRL in the scandale stakes.

As Blogger.com is my witness i am not voting for Labour in NSW while Tripodi and Obeid remain. Dirty filthy alp right machine number-crunching self-serving powerbroking toads.

From last weekend's Sun Herald Junior

When you're seeing double

That's a sign of vision trouble

You need glasses

When you can't read stuff on a jar

or road signs while driving a car

You need glasses

When you close one eye as you text

get headaches and long for Bex

You need glasses

No matter what your old man or lady say

It's come to the day

to get glasses

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

I, too, cried the day Queen Victoria died

I wonder if the helicopter that Damian Hirst sent to fly Ronnie Wood from Ireland to rehab in England was platinum and diamond encrusted.

I wonder what R. Hughes thinks of Ronnie's art...

I wonder why i have Rubber Bullets and not Art for Art's Sake on my brain.

Friday, 5 September 2008

NSW – The Parlous State #2000

Maaaaaaaate. Premier Iemma has been dumped and replaced by Nathan Rees. Rees was once Milton young boys and mary-jane are my weakness Uh-Oh Orkopolous's Chief of Staff.

Lordamumsamercy me. What will Hetty Johnson make of it!

Nathan Rees reminds me a bit of a Thomas Haden Church as 70's Parramatta Eel player with a sprinkling of the Kyle Sandilands – fine for a judge on Idol ...

What is particularly satisfying about the new regime is that all those vile Channel 9 toadies who were hired to boost Iemma's media profile will be gone, gorne, I tell you, G O R N E .

However my jameschadenfreude has been shortlived. New Premier is YOUNGER than me.

This no doubt explains why I always hang out for Stateline of a Friday night and the Insiders first thing Sunday morning.

Tonight's Stateline is going to be TOPS!

It’s official* I am a middle-aged poop. It won't be long till i quit my job to spend more time with the faaaaaaaaaaaaamily. I don't know whose family but if you've got a spouse and a set of kiddies you'd better watch out for Mistress Bel will be coming to a hard working Australian family's hoame soon. Beaut.

*Dear NSR, i know it's rather queer that i should genuinely use such an expression when i am so amused by more bang for your buck, heads up, so and not plus adjective/present continuous, at the end of the day, whatever, no brainer and then some, aux armes etc. Just put it down to my being a mysterious and complicated cove, a puzzle like the meaning of life. Have a good weekend and ponder on!

Thursday, 4 September 2008

Feeling poopy

Not in a white polo neck sportin' Roger Moore/Jimmy Hannon fashion or the comfortin hot milk drink before sleepy bo-bo's ilk.

My zing has gone.

I think i need a nice sausage roll with quite a bit of tomato sauce.