My Week

Faced with the options of going to the Enfield computer mart to buy the components of a new computer and staying in to entertain the family with a blog I have of course taken the moral high less expensive ground. “Oh! How sweet is he?” I hear you say and I’m tempted to delete less expensive to gain even more of your indulgence though I’ll probably leave it as a self indulgence. That makes sense doesn’t it and “oh! Stop it Robert” you spend far too much time in your mind with the lights turned out and lord knows it’s confusing in there even when you can see where your going. “Just get on with it man”. Trouble is, as you’ve probably guessed, I don’t really have anything to say.

I’ve been writing scripts for Grumpy old men this week and I’ve already got enough material for fifty odd episodes. Trouble is I’m not at all confident of a market. You know I really think these guys are ad-libbing. Harley has been staying with me until today providing me with plenty of inspiration. In light of the chance of his Parkinson’s disease body falling, Alice like, down a burrow on his spread or some such likely demise he has been undertaking the legal maneuvers to empower his children with power of attorney. He feels that this option is marginally less dangerous than the current situation which places his wellbeing in the hands of his probably not ex wife. In order to achieve this it was necessary to schedule a meeting at which his 24 year old reasonably compliant daughter Carmina, who has, home, work and mobile phone numbers, appear in company with her 26 year old (oh the adjectives are too many and varied) brother Will, who lacks any contact number or address it seems, with Harley who’s medication imposes severe limits on his mobility or lack thereof, and an officer of the court. Sounds easy enough I know but it did entail three trips to Bondi Junction, the first merely to convey to the un-contactable Will that that meeting was cancelled owing to Harleys neglect in making an appointment with the court. Signing was achieved at the eleventh hour on the second day when Will turned up as we were leaving. The third visit was to enable a social meeting between father and son which was successfully and amicably achieved after a three and a half hour delay. That evening Carmina’s Muslim boyfriend somehow magically collected us all together (should have had him organising from the start) in his WRX for an unnecessary (at least as far as Harley and I were concerned) farewell meal in Newtown. At 9AM this morning after a restless night, when he was due at the airport at 10AM, Harley discovered that the vital documents which Carmina had photocopied for everyone were not in the envelope returned the previous night but were instead in Carmina’s bedroom in Balmain where her house mate should be but was not answering the phone. Rush hour Robert rose to the occasion and after an anxious ruckus at Balmain we were able to raise the sleeping house mate, retrieve the documents and defy all logic by arriving at the air terminal via Sydney’s fabulous tunnels with three minutes to spare.

All this nervous activity accompanied by copious eating and drinking has spared me any time to agonize over recent, lost a daughter gained a son, type events though I have very much enjoyed the blogs, comments and copious photos thanks to Cat and Gab. Gabs snaps especially provide for us a narrative for the afternoon and evening, particularly from her own personal standpoint if that’s the correct word. Cat’s cleverly provided evidence of the celebrity of the occasion which until I saw them I must frankly admit I was unaware of. I would like to propose a toast to Gab and Cat. Hear! Hear!

I should probably close now. What’s that? Oh really, well it didn’t sound like an echo of the previous toast to me, Gabby. Anyway before I go I must ask you Kell, is your shoulder firmly behind your firms endeavors to have restrictions placed on the licensing of Scruffy Murphy’s and does this fit comfortably with your attitude to purveyors of alcohol in a more general sense?

Prestipino’s! Wadd’ya think of your new member (of parliament of course). If you must be consoled then that charming smile must go a long way, certainly does it for me. Much better than that big lower lip that was only one stroke away from a drool.

John, you missed a great gig and all because of falling off your bike I’m led to believe. I fell off mine three times before I really began to curse whoever it was said “You never forget it’s like riding a bike”. Admittedly the first time I was a little inebriated and I concede that my previous experience had not prepared me for that. The second time I was driven off the road by a woman who was so certain that it was her road. I have no recollection of the third fall, I guess the brain damage was quite serious. It’s a wonder that I remember there was a third..…. Or was there? Anyway you should make up your own mind about cursing that guy.

Chris and Sue, were are you? Its been two or more long weeks. For god’s sake call home. What with all those ferals, Murdocks and SOKs out there we worry. I tell people there in Kalgoolie and then I wonder “where’s Kalgoolie” and how do you spell it anyway.

SOK well you’re not reading this anyway. In a way that’s comforting, I don’t know if anyone else is reading but I know your not. Thanks SOK.

Nite all,
ROK

Alice's Wedding

It's all true, I was indeed very drunk at the wedding but I had a great time. I did loose my camera but luckily Luke had it and gave it to me the next morning. I turned it on and this was the first picture I saw.


See I did have a good time.
Anyway I have put all of my photos (I have no idea who took most of them) up on a web album. You can go to this link http://picasaweb.google.com/gheggen/AliceSWedding and they're all there.

P.S. sorry it took so long I've had internet problems

x Gabby

Lost and found

Well I may never blog again. With wall to wall Labour and Alice married off what’s left to rant about. You my right index finger can retire from the ardor of entertaining the extended O’Keefes clan er court and spend your doting years admiring your gold signet watch as we entertain the lads at the club one more time with tales of your exploits.

Perhaps one of you can offer something to continue with. As for me when I open my mouth all that comes out to a backdrop of the sun rising over a peaceful valley is the classic: “and they all lived happily ever after”. That’s all very well but we all know that it’s not the launch pad fuel of great literature / blogs. We blogers need conflict, deprivation, uncertainty, fear. I won’t go on, you know the stuff, you don’t want it but what about us.

I just paused to watch our new PM on Kerry O’Brien’s variety show and he’s so tight. I’m not going to find any material there or at least not for some time yet. Bernie Banton RIP bless his soul, was the other celebrity, posthumous of course. Not much on offer there either that Bernie hasn’t already covered pretty comprehensively. What I really need is a new war front or something. If only Israel would bomb Tehran, that would be good.

What madness. I’m sorry about all that. It’s amazing isn’t it the extremes to which one can be driven by harmony and friendship and happy ending stuff. I’m saved of course, Grumpy Old Men has saved me. I can rant again. About art and power poles and, and,and here’s The Bill. Oh yes! I’m back. Come here index, your not retiring yet, not by furlongs, this race is only beginning.

You know

The Wedding

Sunday
At first I thought it was just me, obviously in light of recent events I was seeing the world through rose colored glasses, though on checking they were the same old Polaroid clip-ons, then when I asked my barman mate from The Queens who was having a very quite one at The Duke and he responded instantly with the Nixon salute I realized I was not just swimming in afterglow of marriage ceremony bliss, but was in fact experiencing the effect of walking in a city of happy people, some in fact laughing out loud.

Only with this break in the mood do I see so clearly how repugnant were these last months / years with their bitter stifling violence. Where only yesterday there were traffic snarls and agro, now there is flowing calm nourished by joy filled citizens in harmony. Oh what a difference an election can make, I feel Pretty, There’ll be Dancin in the Streets, Oh what a Beautiful Morning, these are the songs playing in my radio-less car as cruise, no more like float back to Kirribilli to retrieve my TV from where it had languished un-noticed the previous night.

Un-noticed because those who get their rocks off watching electoral result drivel when they could be dancing and flirting found for themselves a much more comfortable forum in the members bar bless their souls. I hereby propose a toast to diversity of need. I hear Gabby respond with a very hearty cheer, good for you Gab, if you can’t remember, you had a very good time and were appreciated by all, and in the nicest of ways. You will always remain my hero for your steady no nonsense approach to underwear crises when others would have panicked.

I did notice a divide, along family lines I guess, in the population of different spaces. Not many O’Keefes populated the Election Lounge and not many Ellises populated the dance floor though I venture that the dance floor could have seemed intimidating for some. Those busy blustering O’Keefes and their court could intimidate the Queen herself I’m prepared to venture.

Monday

I sympathize with the previous commentators as they grapple with the concept of O’Keefeness. My solution is as above to institute the court of O’Keefe, not all bearing the name O’Keefe but united in their overall O’Keefeness. Someone, probably Hugh, my memory as you are all only too aware, is a great deal less than perfect, suggested that night that The O’Keefes are in fact dying out. Not in any maudlin sentimental way but rather as a blazing comet might, which we see well illustrated in our gatherings, and note in the record of this blog. One does not need any blood relationship to be an O’Keefe but an attitude to party is essential. Wadd’ya think Kell, how’s the UK chapter going?

I don’t think it could have been better for me. To begin I could not imagine a better son in law to have thank you Alice. I love my family and am confident in their love. Alice and Jacks peers, exemplified in Luke’s rockness, give me confidence in the future. The six degrees of separation did not fail me/us as I/we came face to face with the past/future. The bonhomie of this occasion has raised a bar which I don’t expect ever to see surpassed but I welcome challengers.

Once more I toast you: Alice and Jack Ellis

O'Keefes rule, OK?

Well what about us O'Keefes? OK, Dot has captured the wedding in a nutshell, and I couldn't agree more, but what about us O'Keefes? Can we party, or what? Do we all love each other or what? And don't you answer "or what".

But realise when I say O'Keefes, I mean Prestipinos, Heggens, Jane's partner, Gabby's Adrian, Kelly's Mart and now Jack - you have no choice, you are all honorary and legendary O'Keefes. And should be grateful for it. As I said to someone at the wedding (maybe everyone) you can be divorced, separated, living in sin, an ex-jailbird or even an old poof and no one, not even the retired priest, will knock you for that.

(To add to the confusion, I gather that my goddaughter is now my sister, and all her family have moved up a notch - and none too soon, I say.)

And we can all not see each other for ages, but when the excuse comes for a gettogether, we're there in spades, having a ball. Thank God for Family Days, weddings, Boxing Day and the whole caboodle that gives us a network.

Mind you, my customary bottle of white a day was followed by several Pure Blondes and champagnes which meant the stagger up the hill to Milson's Point Station was a touch dodgy - but I got there. And the walk through the Cross was seamless.

And Jack and Alice, thank you. Thank you for an afternoon of poetry in the park, thank you for a very scrambly photo call following, thank you for looking so dreamily, angelically in love all night, thank you for wonderful words (Gabby, Bob 1 and Bob 2 - outright winner), thank you to the Ellises for retiring to the TV and leaving the dance floor free for the O'Keefe tribe to invade en masse.

Like Dot, I had a few deep and meaningfuls myself and fortunately recall most of the content. Hence this raving screed.

And finally, hi to John, Chris and Sue, Stephen and Kelly - you were all there in spirit and we all raised a glass or ten to you from time to time. (I have this vague memory that I might have even spoken to you Kelly?)

Roll on Boxing Day!

All I missed was my dance with Chad.

Hugh

Whew what a night

What a magnificent night,Alice and Jacks wedding of course. I happily took the prize for having the drunkest daughter and daughter in law, although I wasn't far behind. I lost my phone (Adrian had it) Gabby lost her camera (Luke had it) and we all lost lots of money loosing lots of brain cells.So it was a typically wonderful Okeefe/Heggen/Prestipino family gig.I had several deep and meaningful conversations with Anne (my sister from now on),Jamie,Catherine,Ross,Toyah,Hugh and Robert. And the beauty of it was I remembered them all. I even managed to collect all the disposable cameras with the help of Andy Knott. The speeches were memorable-I was so proud of Gabby.Bob Ellis's speech was poetic and I took in every word with his charismatic voice, but my man of the match was Robert. His speech brought tears to my eyes and Janes of course. Alice was absolutely beautiful and held it together all night. Her vows were beautifully delivered as were Jacks. We(Glenn,Gabby,Adrian,Luke,Jamie,Toyah and myself) all managed to stumble home to the Vibe. Luke was a rock (go figure,only joking Luke) he was the soberist. Toyah and Gabby were hilarious in our room slagging each other in Maori speak and Adrian was like the energiser bunny looking for another gig to go to whilst dealing with drunken Gabby. So thankyou guys I love it when we all let loose.
cheers Dot

Wedding wishes

Dear Alice and Jack

I just wanted to wish you both an amazing day on Saturday. I wish I could be there to share your special day, but I'll be there in spirit (bourbon, vodka and the like!), but seriously... I wish you both an eternity of happiness and a long and happy marriage.

Enjoy your day. Love to you both xxxxxxxxxx

Kelly

Hens Night <(:)>

Phew the crisis is over, and I hear your sigh of relief. Thank Confucius for the steady tread of Dot who came with a level head to save my/our bacon. (Hmm we’d better eat that sentence today; it’s just this side of off) There’s no question that secret Santa’s big but it’s not the only big stuff going on now and busy folk like you and I could do without the distraction. It’s a comfort to know that everyone now knows their responsibilities.

On the subject of stuff, it’s my pleasure here to be able to report on Alice’s Hen’s night last Saturday eve. Yes I was one of the chicks as were a number of others sprouting more facial hair than I care to see on a chick and not one of us had to remove our clothes or perform acts with whipped cream. Not withstanding it was a great party, generously hosted by Kara, ably assisted, not, by Yasmin, Africa and their boyfriends with the sort of incomprehensibly modern names you’d expect from Fort Street. Alice’s blood grandmother Sally was in attendance with Jane (her blood daughter) as were many of Alice’s impressive school and work friends. I had a great time as was evidenced by the time, 2:30AM when Catt, bless her soul, bundled Alice and I into a cab and saw both of us home before retiring herself.

If that had not been enough evidence to convince your lordships of the caliber of this event, then the condition of your correspondent the next day should leave no further doubt in your mind. I do notice that recovery time is becoming a more drawn out affair as years go by and I may be one of the few who commiserate with the plight of our esteemed leader Howard who must be ever so careful with the timing of his raging. What’s that? Yes I take your point that is probably the least commiserable of the PM’s current problems and maybe soon he will have all the time he wants to get off his face.
The way things are going the Okeefe’s family personal voting block may have the balance of power in the knifes edge Bennelong electorate. That’s something to ponder as you have your head down in the booth, Catt, Matt, Chris. Be sure to make a note in your diary to consult when your boring your grandchildren with the story of how you voted out (or saved) the incumbent PM.

Holidays are pleasant and I seem to be making good progress with my list, lets see, still have to polish shoes and godamit shopping’s come round again. Speaking of shopping I’ve spent so much time in the mall these last few weeks I shouldn’t be at all surprised to find myself in the gossip column alongside Paris Hilton. With two trips to Bondi Junction for Alice under my belt I could hardly refuse Jack in his hour of need for a shirt, shoes and belt. He came away with a two pair of jeans bonus, a much more profitable (should that be expensive?) trip than either of Alice’s. Just as I thought that it was all over for another decade I found myself at Broardway with Alice Saturday arvo shopping for party food and dress and loosing the car. Yes Dot my memory and its scribe let me down again as we pushed a fully loaded trolley up five floors when we should have gone down one.

It was good exercise anyway which reminds me of the pedometer I received along with my Black and Decker Dust Buster reward courtesy of those credit card reward points. What more evidence do we need that “Australian families have never been so well off” than the afore mentioned pedometer reward for rewarding oneself with a Dust Buster reward. I suggest Black and Decker like other big corporations feeling a bit sensitive about their image might have noticed the recent publicity about the so called obesity crisis and made the link to their labour saving devices as a potential cause. Public relations put their heads together with sales and marketing and come up with the inclusion of the exercise encouraging pedometer. Dubito ergo sum. I’m looking forward to bar bells with clothes dryers and Gym membership with self cleaning ovens, wadd’ya think.

Of course I don’t leave home without it, particularly on my morning walk which without the distraction of work I now take every day or at least every day that I don’t wake up dead as I did last Sunday. I feel that this walk provides some balance for the extra drinking time I find at the end of each day and with my step adjusted to 85cm. my walk usually pans out at about 3800 steps or 3.2 kilometers. It works by counting my steps and has inspired me to start work on the drinkometer which could count a certain elbow movement required to bring glass to mouth. Greater sophistication has to be developed though not just regarding potency of alcohol which could be easily dialed up but with volume of sip/gulp which I hope to achieve without resorting to implants.

To finance my experiments while I wait for the Jims Brazilians cash cow to mature I’m thinking of taking advantage of the new licensing laws for alcoholic beverages to open a shopfront bar here in Enmore. There is a vacant shop at the corner of London and Enmore about thirty meters from The Queen’s, thirty five from The Sly Fox and less than a hundred meters from both The Warren View and The Duke of Edinburg so I’m certain that there are a lot of drinkers in a close proximity. What about it, anyone want a piece of this action?

Well that’s about all from me for now. Ohhh don’t be like that I’ll be back. Kell you make the most of it, you won’t always be able to drink twice your body weight in a night. Hugh, where’s that promised novel. Matt your too young to start forgetting Secret Santas
See you all at Alice and jack’s first family day on Saturday, well most of you all anyway, what time do you want us to call Kell.

Here are a few snaps from the “Hens”


Some of the chicks and no whiped cream


Sofi and Zoe


Close family: Alice with Renee and Jade


Sally and Jane


Africa Asia and Australia

Are you related to this person ?

Here's a photo to cheer your day.

Secret Santa

I’m sorry folks but the situation seems to be getting worse not better. Yes we all now know that Glenn is very enthusiastic about Bunnings gift vouchers even if he’s still a little uncertain about his name and Dot’s Secret Santa has a comprehensive and helpful list. These are positive and helpful items of information for which we must be thankful to the world wide and sticky web. However this web or net whatever, seems to have a big hole in it when it comes to my Secret Santa presentee and now, if I am correctly interpreting Kellys recent somewhat confusing comments, according to Catt it appears that I am also the receptacle of her (Kell’s) presentee.

Now its sometime since I’ve read any John Le Carre type spy thrillers but I suppose it is possible that some subconscious memory surfaced briefly that afternoon at The Warren View and caused an electron in my left brain to link to the spy like subterfuge of the Secret Santa concept causing me to swallow the chits and purge from memory any vestige of this information that might be tortured out of me by Asio or some family member. What’s that Gab, just drunk and stupid, that maybe so but it’s not very imaginative do you think?

Anyway what’s past is past and unless someone comes up with a solution it appears that we now have two holes in poor old Secret Santa and he is sinking fast. I propose that at Alice’s wedding where, very soon most of us shall once more gather we have a replay at which we undertake to have Roberts draw tattooed onto some private part of his body and refrain from entrusting him with any additional responsibilities. Wadd’ya think? I apologize in advance to those efficient folk who have already undertaken the procurement of their presentees presents and have, owing to sex, age or other variant, to return them. I shall forever be in your debt.
Robert

Short term memories

Not wishing to detract from serious disabilities like hip dislocations and with apologies in advance to all family members, I regret to inform that we have a problem. I can’t remember who my Secret Santa is. Short term memory has let me down. I was aware of this likelihood at the draw on my family day, and took the precaution of keeping my chit somewhere safe. Unfortunately this safe place memory became the subject itself to short term memory loss, and search though I have in both memory and wallets, pockets etc. there’s nothing to be found. Perhaps memory loss cut in betwixt the decision to stash and the act, who knows, certainly not my memory. I’ve made discreet inquiries with close family members in the hope that I may have been indiscreet at the time. Unfortunately all that these inquiries have realised is that my discression is in better shape than my memory. Well that’s a positive isn’t it?

I thought that I could solve my problem by having everyone anonymously blog their draw leaving the missing name as my presentee. (“Word” doesn’t like this but I do) Alice who has done tertiary level classes in problem solving, pointed out that even if all members were to respond, the likelihood of which she was pessimistic, the missing presentee would know that I was the presenter which would not be in the spirit of the Secret Santa. The only other solution I’ve thought of is to put a Bunnings shopper voucher (who wouldn’t want one of those) in an envelope and slip it under the plate/glass of whoever looks a little long faced after the divvy up. I completely reject Alices suggestion that I provide Bunnings shopper dockets to all comers, Bunnings don’t have one dollar vouchers much less one dollar product.
Any suggestions? I mean all those websites offer the “forgot your password” option. Do we have one of those?

Your correspondent is extremely happy to relate that as of last Saturday 10/11 at 1800 hours, he is on holidays for four weeks. That’s 34 sleeps Kell. I flew directly by Daihatsu (gesundheiti!) to that fabulous and famous Stanmore Shores where I plan to spend at least the first 32 nights in limpid luxury sunning in the shade. I’ve a couple of gigs lined up, a Hens Night this Saturday (oh yes I go to a lot of those) and a Wedding on the following one. Apart from that I have no concrete plans but rest assured I shall keep you informed.

An article on “absurd legislation never repealed” caught my eye this week and set me to wonder as to the reason they were ever laws in the first place. I’ve no problem with the illegality of putting regal stamps upside down on envelopes in Britain or calling a French pig Napoleon. Those aristocratic types have big egos and are use to being obeyed. The death penalty for public masturbation in Indonesia has to have a religious sources don’t you think? Christian religions, certainly Catholics have always had it in for masturbation for “god” knows what reason and the Muslim religion seems to me to be a close relative of theirs, dogma wise. I’d have thought that this act, which if a crime seems the least proactive, could have been left to the individual concience where it belongs rather than in front of a firing squad. Having said as much though it’s tempting to believe that some with similar egos to the afore mentioned class, given the classic death sentence last wish, might see their upcoming demise as an opportunity for the all-time best wank.
Moving on It’s illegal for a woman to be topless in Liverpool unless she’s a clerk in a tropical fish store and a pregnant woman can relieve herself anywhere she wants including in a policeman’s helmet. Makes sublime sense, I’ve no problem with that or with ‘in the city of York it’s legal to murder a Scotsman within the ancient walls as long as he’s carrying a bow and arrow’. These laws you’ll all agree are based on common sense and deserve to stand however others such as the Ohio law against making a fish drunk or the Vermont law requiring women to have written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth would seem a little irrational. Others like the Alabama law making it illegal to drive a car whilst blindfolded and the Swiss law that a man may not relieve himself whilst standing up after 10pm make perfect sense. At least around my place they do.

Good luck with your hip Strobe, with the new business Chris and Sue, with the wedding Alice and Jack and with the sleeps Kell.

Loving regards um ah Rupe.. no Ramon… Oh I don’t know, something starting with R followed by a vowel.

Faulty Towers Hospital

Hello please be kind as im a first timer.
well wasnt my stay interesting.i was still in emergency till midnight
I was then taken to a ward, seemed very familier. Next morning after fasting 12
hours, something 2 do with alcohol,i was taken 2 theatre where they were goin 2
put me under and attempt 2 put my hip back in, i think i was there just incase i
needed a 10 year replacement, my time flies.Anyway it was ok, so no new hip yet.
That arvo i was woken and told i was free 2 go, i did ask if i was able 2 walk
as i had been lying flat for 24 hours. The nurse offered a wheelchair 2 get me 2 my car but i needed 2 know if i needed crutches. Anyway he said he didnt know as it was his first day on this level, so up i got dressed and walked out.On exiting i tried 2 book out but the 4 ladies were busy having tea so now im out but dont tell them cause they didnt even know i was in, I had a mate visit he was told i wasnt there so he rang me, i told him 2 tell them im on level 2 room 15a they obviously didnt listen.
I wont bore u any further, there is more but my computer skills r being tested 2 the max, thank u 4 yor comments, till next time cheerio Glenn aka Strobe

Back to Work

Sue and I have become bored with retirement so are going back to work. We have bought the latest "Jims" franchise as below. Looking forward to keeping busy. love Chris & Sue

hips away

Hi everybody,love reading all your blogs. Just to let you know Glenn aka Strobe dislocated his left hip on Sunday arvo. He was with me luckily for him as I would have suspected he was doing something studid. All he actually did was attempt to go from a sitting position to a standing one, pretty simple really. So we had the ambo ride to Mona Vale hospital (he knew the ambos of course) where we were met with emergency type confusion Sunday nite style. After explaining that he had this hip replaced 10 years ago at this hospital the doctor tried to contact his specialist who i'm sure has been waiting for this call for 10 years. He couldn't be contacted so they kept him in overnite to fast and put him under on Monday morning to put the hip back in place which was successful.So he came home on Monday arvo and he rang his specialist on Tuesday who before he even said who he was said you must be Mr Colless. So he can't go back to work till he sees this doc next week so the saga continues. I'll keep you posted. love to everyone Gab and I are well.Luke turned 25 on Monday.He's well too as is beautiful Jamie.

Edinburgh take 3

Hi everyone

Mart and I spent the weekend in Edinburgh - it was fab! We climbed to the top of Arthur's Chair - hard bloody work for a Sunday morning, but pretty spectacular at the top. Check us out...

Love Kel xxx

Too Much Pressure

Children in suitcases floating in ponds, talking heads throwing themselves from cliffs, murderous assault for watering the lawn, escalating attacks on parking rangers, sexual assault claims in defense of pinkie wiggling roused, bottle throwing road rage, and still nineteen days to go in this pressure cooker election campaign. The AJC / Pell face off appears beyond resolution. Normally in crisis times like these we can turn the church for some solace or if that’s not working go to the races. Not now though with equine influenza and a church so distracted by quarrels over accommodations for a papal visit, we need a pressure valve. In days of yore the generals would have organised a duel to death between ours and our opponent’s champions, to appease the blood lust of the troops, while the kings finished their long luncheon negotiations over division of spoils. Perhaps a game of rugby could be arranged between the government and opposition with pick up teams from amongst the candidates. This would have the additional advantage here in NSW, of providing an opportunity to gamble with our recently enlarged gaming facilities. NSW gamblers have had it tough since their horses got the flu. I’d like to be a psychiatrist on the wall at some of these assault hearings. I’m prepared to bet (did I say that) that many of the protagonists were gamblers.

Barnaby Joyce is my choice for captain of the coalition side, but maybe not everyone’s. Tony Abbott needs to sweat off some aggression but I don’t think he’s up to captaincy. That Mal Brough looks like he could run a few lengths of the paddock wadd’ya think. I’m not as sure about a Labor side, Kev I can’t imagine being of much use but with 70% union bullies on the front bench surely they can field a team. Anyway the draw should be open to all candidates, Greens, Family first, what about you Pauline, you’re a fit looking heifer, wouldn’t you like the opportunity to get Mal in a tackle grapple? The object is to relieve pressure of course, the public needs biff and blood spill, if picking teams is going to lead to more vitriol and pressure then perhaps the idea doesn’t float. What about a cricket match? Give Johnnie one last chance to dust off the flannels, I’ve seen him bowl a pretty wobbly er, wobbly. No, your right, not enough blood and too great a likelihood of the dreaded draw.

Thanks to all who for your birthday wishes, the taco was delicious, thanks Kell. The nomads sent me a delightful poke I think, no, they wrote on my wall. We get a lot of that around here. Mays Lane in St Peters has become a public gallery for wall artists from which organized tours have been led too other important sights these last few weeks.




The Bogongs have all gone and these fellows have come to clean up. I note that scientists for the intelligence agencies are experimenting with ways of implanting things like these with receivers for the purpose of spying. What do you think all those eye like patches could be. Hmmm hand me that microscope.

Later, Prof Robert