I spent my best worst ever Christmas here in Brisbane, with my brother, in a share house up on Stuartholme Road. The house was OK and my brother was cool. None of the other flatmates were criminally insane. It should have been a reasonable time.
His show was a monster, so Nine loved him. Producers at the network, not so much.
Of course we went through this whole rotten campaign because Malcolm Turnbull was too weak to stand up to the bigoted weirdos in his own party.
The grotesque and abysmal scenes playing out in our abandoned concentration camp on Manus Island would seem to meet many of the criteria for a successful prosecution at the International Criminal Court.
Call a waaaaaambulance. Somebody's feels have suffered a terrible hurty-boo-boo.
Juding by some of the early anti-SSM propaganda, things are going to get fugly. Abbott is totally the man for the job.
He loves the people of the land, even as he seems to struggle with the idea that anybody who has not stepped out of a Steele Rudd novel could even be Australian.
As on pretty much everything, Tony Abbott would be wrong on same-sex marriage, but he would be wrong with sincere conviction.
It seems odd that the story of the undocumented grant to Foxtel is going to recede into the fog of winter.
By the time you read this I will have manflu.
If giant manbabies are crying for the waaaaamblance then all is good with the world. And yesterday they cried a river.
I'm guessing the workers at the brewery no longer get a freebie six-pack at the end of a shift.
I've inhaled the double cheeseburger at Miss Kay's, gotta Getta Burger, breakfasted on Ben's, and been to 5 Boroughs in both boroughs.
He was born to the working class in a time when that meant knowing your place and never rising above it. He rose above it.
So, I made a mistake. You could even say I was wr… wro… less right than usual.
He speaks, or rather walks and carefully minds what's left of his beer, for all of us who are pretty much over this.
This is what failure looks like. Men coughing their lungs out in dark, viscous blots of toxic meat rot.
The last time I watched a new series of Twin Peaks I lived in a share house in Darlinghurst.
So, I deleted all the social media apps from my phone. I think my life is better without them. Before you protest, "But JB, I just saw that photograph of a black cat dressed as Darth Vader that you shared," I didn't delete my accounts. Just the apps on my phone and, for good measure, my iPad. Having done so, I feel a lot less stressed and I'd like to talk to you about why.
I've renamed my mortgage "good debt" and I feel richer already.
War is over yet dozens of soldiers and former soldiers continue to fall, depressed and alone.
You expect us to take the word of a scientist about how to drink tea? I think not.
The veteran broadcaster was not just the voice of the national sport, but a much loved ambassador to the powerhouses of the perfect game as far away as Bad Odursburg and Middlefart.
A new poll has discovered that 49 per cent of sensible adults who answer my polls on Twitter think huntsman spiders will definitely kill us all, while 51 per cent of respondents are gullible idiots destined to die screaming as the human pudding sacks of these gigantic, horrifying arachnassassins.
We love these idiots. We, the media. You, our readers and viewers.
Like everyone, when I first heard this story I thought him a massive idiot. But most of the coverage failed to mention that he jumped in not simply as a dare but, most crucially, to impress a girl.
Maybe it was just my Twitter. Maybe this didn't break out anywhere else, but it did break out all over my timeline.
Bill Gates once said that people tend to overestimate what's possible in one year, and underestimate what's possible in 10. He was talking about technology, but think about your life 10 years ago and you'll probably agree that the super-nerd spoke the truth. I wrote my welcome column here at the Instrument 10 years ago today. I've filed just under a thousand times since then.
Calm down, concerned Brisbane brothel owners. You've got bigger problems than Tinder.
The food is banal. The cocktails are boring. Jo-Jo's probably won't be missed but she should be remembered.