Saturday, March 31

Outsplash Melbourne Team Performance

If you never believed that we won the gold medal performance for the outsplash in Montreal, this has just surfaced, anon.
Im dame Ednaa on the platform, and maybe you might recognise the voice at the beginning....

Friday, March 23

Pretty flowers everywhere.

I have noticed recently, whilst bustling myself about in my busy daily jobs, like, clipping my toenails, dusting my bedside lamp, fluffing the feathers on my fairy wings, polishing my wand....pause....that the usually quite mild and predictable London weather has taken a particularly queer turn.

I use the term QUEER in it's literal sense also, dear reader. I am in no way suggesting that the clouds have turned pink and it has started raining glitter and hello kitty stickers.

No really, today I was COLD. For really the first time since I have been here have I felt either completely under dressed (not a huge surprise if it's that one) or that the weather has dirty danced it's way back to December.

But it's the daffodils I feel sorry for. They have been lulled into a false sense of security and now have fully blossomed everywhere. And this week it snowed twice. I mean WHAT?

The tulips have a better idea. They have been hiding. Where I come from, the tulips always come up first. Here, they are smart, the little fuckers. No tulips anywhere in the parks, though I can't say that I have been out tulip spotting lately. I just know that I havn't seen any yet, so there.

I'm a sucker for flowers. I really like them. They're my princess accoutrements. In my job, I like to plant pretty flowers everywhere, because I'm a princess at heart and I wish for the world to be full of princess love.

Now I just sound like an idiot.

Recently I saw Bambi for the first time. I know, tragic that I never saw it. I really loved the little skunk, Flower. My new friend Robin, who works at Disney, calls me Flower and I just love it. It's nice that at least SOMEONE thinks of me as a skunk.


Monday, March 19

The best thing ever put on Youtube

Now, I have put this on my blog, thanks to Ryan, it's just TOO fucking funny not to share.
Thanks Ryan.

Sunday, March 18

Oompa Loompa Song's

Because its March, i am declaring it Oompa Loompa month.

Check out the white whirling Oompa Loompas at the end.

Friday, March 16

Beer and chocolates.

It's Friday night.

I am supposed to be packing my bag for a dirrrrty weekend jaunt on the Eurostar to Brussels tomorrow.

Instead, we learn that the service has been cancelled. Something about a fire on the track somewhere.

When will this town stop being someting out of the Bourne identity.

At least we had some beers and chocolates to compensate, and we get to sleep in tomorrow.


Thursday, March 15

It's my birthday, I am 100!

today i am 100 posts old.

so to mark this occasion, here is a picture of super squirrel.


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Wednesday, March 14

A bad dream

I wake up, it's a bad dream...

I have started exercising again in EARNEST.

It's MAINLY because I couldn't get the top button done on my Armani jeans.

OH, and because I'm going to Sitges in 2 weeks...



But seriously, I am running 6 km every morning at the moment (3 times around Queen's park) and it's great. I have lost heaps.

Yesterday, I had the old iPod switched on my favourites, and on came Keane's "A bad dream", their latest single.

Whilst I laughed with irony about how I had just woken up from a dream where my parents and I lived in the house with the family from Malcolm in the Middle, I was moved by the lyrics of this song.

I often feel that I am more emotional when I have just woken up, on airoplanes, after a big dinner in a posh restaurant..and this was proven to myself as I found myself sobbing UNCONTROLLABLY, running along (it was really more a stagger) as I listened to the message of this song.

Imagine being a soldier in this stupid war. How would you feel if you didn't agree with it either?

We saw Keane in concert at Wembley Arena last week and they were amazing. These are the Lyrics...

A bad dream:

Why do I have to fly
Over every town, up and down the line.

I'll die in the clouds above
and you that I defend, I do not love.

I wake up
It's a bad dream
no one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired to be fighting
Guess Im not the fighting kind

Where will I meet my fate?
Baby I'm a man I was born to hate
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend

I wake up
It's a bad dream
no one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired to be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
Wouldn't mind it,
if you were by my side
but you're long gone,
yes you're long gone now.

Where do we go?
I dont even know.
My strange old face
And i'm thinking about those days
And i'm thinking about those days

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Tuesday, March 13

Where did Parker Posey go?

She seems to have disappeared from my side bar.

OK, who took her?


Monday, March 12

Janet vs Carmel

I have been pulled up by my blogging buddy Bretty on a technicality regarding Lynn Postlethwaite. Rather than have to explain, I am going to recite the transcript of the conversation of the cheese sandwich sketch. It originated in the D-Generation series 2 on the ABC c. 1984/5.

This, i might add, comes verbatum, and completely from my memory.

Lynn (Magda Szubanski) chatting to Carmel (Jane Turner) over the kitchen table over a lot of dried up cups of coffee and an old cream slice or two. Both smoking and picking their teeth.

Lynn: "Tired, tired tired tired"

Carmel: "Oh what is it THIS toime Lynn?"

Lynn: "I told about the other day.."

Carmel: "Yes, you did"

Lynn: "I'm sitting at the end of an exHAUSTING day, talking to Janet about my veins.."

Carmel: "mmm?"

Lynn: "and who should call from upstairs, but his ROYAL highness, king ROLY the first."

Carmel: "mmm."

Lynn: "and you know what he was after this toime Carmel?"

Carmel: "A cheese sandwich?"

Lynn: "A CHEESE SANDWICH. Carmel, is it worth my while telling you this, or are you going to be constantly interrupting me?"

Carmel: "Well Lynn, you have told me this before."

Lynn: "Anyway, he wanted a CHEESE SANDWICH right there and then. So I said, Love, you KNOW we have Jan and Fred Nettlebeck over on Tuesday, and you KNOW they're big cheese eaters."

Carmel: "mmm yes they are"

Lynn: "and you would THINK that would stop my husband? OHHH no. He wanted a CHEESE SANDWICH. SO I said, YES, Roly, I WILL make you a CHEESE SANDWICH, and I WILL lug it up three flights of stairs to watch you SIT there and PICK at it.. "

(big suck on the cig)

"But PLOISE pet, I said, LOVE, I said PET I said LOVE I Said PET I aid LOVE. I am NOT at your beck and call, to be making you CHEESE SANDWICHES, every time you decide to LOLL around in bed with terminal CANCER.

TRY and think of someone OTHER than yourself for once."

(big suck on the cig)

And do you know what he did then Carmel?"

Carmel: "And what's that Lynn?"

Lynn: "He grunted. He grunted, turned his face to the wall and DIED right there and then." (big suck on the cig)

Carmel: "Ohhh, its tragic really.."

Lynn: "mm, It's the Nettlebecks I feel sorry for. No CHEESE left."


There may be a few words wrong here and there, but I have been reciting that sketch for the last 20 years. Ask anyone from my school, I have more than one alibi on this one.

Next week, The Lipstick sketch, where Mrs Irene Maverick from Gladstone in Queensland presents her VERY interesting collection of LIPSTICKS.



Thursday, March 8

Mince Pies

One of my favourite comedy sketches ever involved Magda Szubanski dressed as a big nasty bogan wench called Lynn Postlethwaite, sucking on a fag like it was her last, describing the mundane rubbish of her life.

"I am abssolutely runn of my feet, answering phones from ten till two, two days a week. I simply DO NOT HAVE THE TOOOIIME"

So tonight, Like Lynne, I'm sitting at the end of an exHAUSTING day, chatting to JANET about my veins..."

Like Lynne, I seem to be grabbing anything available to stuff down my gizzard and nibble on like some wag on pot, too frightened to be seen eating, too hungry to care.

SO in the fridge I seem to have found some mince pies. Thankfully I have beeen running and gymming this week so I seem to have eaten two.

Oh dear. There are two more to go......


When is a blog, not a blog?

When I'm just too damned knackered to have anything to say.

I'm sorry, I have been working terribly long days of late, and my ouput has been squirrelled into landscaping.

I mean christ, even the Beatles released an album last year!

Although, it is spring, and right now, there is a lot of Landscaping to do....

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Saturday, March 3

Every breath you take

Oh my god.

I have few regrets about being too old or young to understand certain trends/cultural events that passed by me like the titanic in the night...


Elizabethan drama.
The Bay City Rollers
My little Pony (though I have learned what all THAT fuss was about).

I would like to go on record to say that one thing that I regret about my age the MOST, is never, i mean NERVER EVER having the opportunity of seeing the POLICE in concert.

I absolutly love this group. There is so much naughtiness in every Sting lyric that he never really captured in his solo career 'free free, set them free.." (insert spazzo face here)...

My gorgeous and beautiful sister who is considerably older than I (sorry sis) was undoubtably resposible for my music choices early in life. Disco? uh huh. I remember singing along as a 3 year old to the Bothers Johnston from a vinyl on her record player in her bedroom. But mostly, I recall that she went to see the last ever conert of the Police at Narara, some dreadfully manky indie concert held in some paddock in NSW in the 80's.

So you can imagine my absolute delight that the Police have reformed for a concert tour. And they sound just as good. Who cares if Andy Summers is 64.

GOD I love it that I live in London. No chance they'd be coming to Melbourne then hey?



Friday, March 2

Don't bespeak to me.


So WHAT is going on with the word BESPOKE?

The fella and I have a new little gag that we share. And, surprise surprise, we have become a little obsessed by it. Those who know and love us will know this is quite common in our house. Once we get onto something that amuses us, it may take many a year before we are able to put it down.

Case studies:

1. I'm still reeling from Pete's unusually late discovery and subsequent hysteria over the concept of the 'Jap's eye'
2. There is endless amount of spew in Fanula's purse
3. and then there's Kimmy. That gag has been going for nearly 10 years. Look at that. Ploise.

Since arriving on these fair shores the fella and I have noticed that the word is more popular than the Youtube video of Britney going ape with that umbrella on KFed's car. We have gone from being slightly amused to just plain flummoxed (oh yes, indeed) about the apllication of this little adjective to the most mundane and UNbespoke artifacts society has to offer.

And since I'm on a roll now, since arriving here, we have been generally satisfied with our grasp of the language (it is English after all). In fact, we feel positively superior in our commnd of vocabulary, and our elocution is excellent, even with our colonial upbringings. In fact, the number of people in the UK (especially in some boroughs of London and nearly everywhere up north) who really have a shocking use of language or an accent that is so damned lazy they might as well be speaking gobbledygook, is staggering. Case study readers, get your pencil out; Vicky Pollard.

So what is with this stupid little annoying word?

In any one day, I think i hear it used in conversation, or read it in print about 10 times. It is commonly used here to describe EVERYTHING. From the boardroom, to the bedroom, to the factory, to Lady Penelope Cossington Smythe's rose arbour. Londoner's just love this word and it is just EVERYWHERE.

Wikipedia has this to say

"Bespoke is a usually British English term for tailored clothing made at a customer's behest, and exactly to the customer's specification. Bespoke clothing is created without use of a pre-existing pattern, differentiating it from made to measure, which alters a standard-sized pattern to fit the customer."

The term begun in Saville Row, where the finest garments are tailored.

I have a bespoke penis. My hair today was bespoke, and I polished my shoes with a bespoke rag. We even have a bespoke deodorant. I mean, what is bespoke about a roll on? Do you get a special bespoke musky aroma that attracts other bespoke people and keeps bespoke sweat from forming no matter your bespoke workout? More like a special tailor made bespoke yellow stain in the pits of your nice new white shirt, that's what.

LOOK! A bespoke dog. No shit, google it, and on page 6 of your image search, this adorable poochie poo will pop up.

I think Londoner's like the use of it so much because it makes whatever they're consuming seem that much more important and special. Kind of car crash cache. Like getting relationship advice from Katie Holmes.


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