Wake up Geoff, Richie's mine!

It's funny how teh interwebs seem to render time irrelevant, or so you'd think according to one of the latest additions to Geoff McClure's Sporting Life column in The AGE:

Cheers for Richie, girls — he's 78

THE international 2008-09 cricket season may be just around the corner (22 days to go, in fact: just kidding), so what have the "stars" been up to in the lead-up? Well, in the case of Mr 22 himself, Channel Nine's veteran Richie Benaud, life hasn't been too bad at all. This snap of Richie was taken a few days ago in Positano, Italy, where the maestro was seen enjoying a glass of vino in the company of some of the locals' finest young ladies. Not sure of the reason for all the jubilation but maybe they knew of his coming celebrations. Yep. many happy returns to the ol' fella — he was 78 yesterday.

Now I've been a fan of Geoff's for many years, often scanning his column over the day's first coffee hit during a 10 year stint in Melbourne town. But he's taking a bit of 'license' in claiming the image above was taken "just a few days ago".

I actually received this photo via email from a mate in Perth on 24 July who had in turn received it from a friend - the person who took the photo - while on holiday in Europe.

Indeed, it was posted right here in The Perth Files on 30 July... Indeed, I flicked it across to my comedic buddy The Lazy Aussie who also posted it on The Worst of Perth.

But what the hell... it's a great pic and it fits too damn well with Richie's Birthday for me to concern myself with exact dates - what's eight weeks or so between friends? Hell, it may even extend Richie's longevity, which can only be a good thing, right?!

Geoff, if you read this, I'm the bloke who sent you the pic of Jess Sinclair looking like an extra from the set of Hair the Musical on the day he got drafted to Freo. Now that he's retired it might be time to give that one another outing?

Update: Good to see some loyal blogging support from Sunili at Because I Said So.

No pain, no game

I stumbled across an article online recently from The Age in 2005 in which former Collingwood and Fitzroy ruckman James 'Killer' Manson discusses how football may well have cost him the opportunity to become a father.

Indeed, eight groin operations and countless cortisone jabs have landed him with a virtual vasectomy... a big price to pay in the quest for an AFL Premiership.

This weekend there is no doubt that a number of players would have been playing with the help of cortisone and local anaesthetics. Hawthorn's Luke Hodge was spitting up blood a week ago and would almost definitely have been on the boundary on Saturday, but there was a shiny cup at stake and indeed, his role in the game was pivotal.

His team mate Trent Croad hobbled off with a broken foot... broken in that game, or a fracture that was made worse because he played on the injury?

Former Collingwood player Mark Orval was touted as a future champion, but 15 minutes into the second quarter of his seventh game for the club he was finished. This is a quote from an interview I did with him back in October 1999 for The Footy Show Magazine:

"Fifteen minutes into the first quarter I went to turn and 'bang' it (foot) just snapped. All that artificial bone and the bone taken from my hips just snapped. I've got a tape of the game where you see me getting a needle in the huddle at quarter time... that was the last I saw of the number 10 jumper."

I've watched that tape and I still wince at the thought. Last week I had two cortisone / local anaesthetic injections in my right wrist and I can't remember anything quite so painful in my life.

James Manson, who I also interviewed for that feature on drugs in AFL, is no stranger to the needle either. Here's an extract from my article that paints a pretty clear picture of why he's in the position he is today:

James Manson is a big bloke. He shakes hnds like a big bloke. From the outside, you'd think his 6'4" frame was still more than capable of chasing the leather on the field. It's got to be said that the former Collingwood and Fitzroy ruckman looks pretty fit at 31 years of age. but something's wrong with this picture.

The furrowed brow and clutching of the stomach has me puzzled. He notes my gaze and offers an explanation.

"You wouldn't believe the size of this hernia," he says pointing at a spot just above the belt line.

"have you seen a doctor?" I ask, a little distressed at the thought of what's under there.

"Nah, I'm so used to them these days I just poke them back in myself." These are the words of a man who obviously has more to worry about than straining a hamstring or catching a cold.

The hernias - a condition where one's insides protrude through the stomach wall - are the result of years of groin strains, Manson tells me. He had his first groin reconstruction in 1986, in just his second year playing with Collingwood and the rest as they say is history. Bad history.

"The thing that concerns me most about my groin I that I've had that much cortisone pumped into it, I've lost count. One season I tore my groin but just opted to play the season through instead of having the op - God knows what it's done to me," Manson recounts, shifting uneasily in his chair.

"You hear certain reports about how many shots you're supposed to have in a year and I can tell you, I've had a lot more than my recommended dose. It's funny, a well known Melbourne vet once told me they stopped giving cortisone to racehorses 30 years ago. That really worries me," he says without any trace of a smile.

Now we do know what it has done. I haven't caught up with the latest on whether he has been succesful in having children, but watch this space...

Food secks

Root me stupid – PR man Phil got quite the shock when he booted, or rooted up his computer only to be confronted by this blunt message.

We’re not sure if he’s being encouraged to sex up a small piece of corn, or it’s a typo and he is being urged to bend The Colonel over the front counter at KFC and play hide the drumstick...

Could be that he's contracted a nasty little virus, or simply plugged his USB into the wrong port. You know what they say, any port in a storm...

Colin buys the farm - Libs win in WA

There's a smell of burning flesh hanging over West Perth and it aint coming from the aged porterhouses on the grill at Juliano's.

Colin Barnett has bought the farm and signed a deal with Brendon Grylls to form a tiggy touchwood Liberal - Nationals alliance to govern Western Australia for the next four years.

The charred flesh caught on the whipping westerlies down Hay Street could be mistaken for a celebratory lamb spit, but the akubra-fanned flames have bagged themselves a bigger catch - the carcass of the recently deceased Carpenter-led ALP government.

Yes indeed, the farmers have shed their 'pull on' ties and poncy leather loafers, to slip smuggly back into the blunnies and drizabones for some serious celebration.

While the metro crew cosy up to their bush buddies around the Parliament House camp fire, knives are being sharpened in the ALP war room. The farmers are in charge and very soon everyone will feel the sharp edge of their shears.

It's 12.20pm on a bleak Sunday in Perth. Here in the western suburbs the faint pop of champagne corks is carried high on the wind, drowned out only slightly by the thrum of rain on the colourbond roof.

The farmers are in the House

The farmers are loose in Parliament House and Brendon Grylls has the keys to the liquor cabinet.

It's time to call in the national guard - don't worry about those indo shark fin snatchers up north, we've got rural types drunk on power and it's gonna take a flotilla of patrol boats to reign them in.

From paddock to parliament, these boys have already started whooping it up and it's getting ugly. Snorting coke off hookers' backsides in the public gallery, body shots on the Speaker's Table, guzzling straight Bundy from filthy Blundstones... god help us if someone sends in the hallucinogens.

Seat sniffing and bra snapping is an entree for this mob. The blood is rising faster than the vomit slick on the member's toilet floor and there is a call for a sacrafice... It's come to this already. Carps is running, Buswell is curled up in the foetal position, McGowan is wearing a floral blouse... 'kill the pig, kill the pig!!!'

Time to flee...

Bowling for North Fremantle

I spent this Father’s Day at the North Fremantle Bowling Club having a roll and a barbie with Cookster Snr who runs the club and pours a top Guinness. It was a pleasant way to 'come down' after election night disappointment and I'm sure Kerry O'Brien would have agreed wholeheartedly.

I've shared the above pics with The Lazy Aussie at The Worst of Perth, so feel free to drop by once you've had your fix of The Perth Files.

The ‘Ladie’s Lounge’ is a veritable treasure chest of memorabilia from a time when Lumpers caught herring off the North Mole during their lunch break.

I was going to rifle through the LPs and position ‘the best one’ on top, but I took one look at a wistful Leo and knew that was the shot.

The men’s locker room is quite a sad affair - lockers ajar, displaying crisp whites on their hangers (seams ironed perfectly), bowling hats, shoes, jars of brylcream and combs that no longer have an owner.

Cases of bowls bear their former owners’ names - Jack, Bill, Fred, Tommy… all now gone, or just too old to bowl.

Good news is that the club committee want to preserve the sense of tradition, while at the same time starting a new page in the history book.

The club turns 50 this year and the old boy has plans to start a jam night, calling in a few favours from local musos who got a leg up in the industry during his time at the Seaview. We can also expect DJs by the green, comedy nights and the odd ball.

If I get enough interest I might organise a TPF Day on the Green - post a comment if you're interested in joining me for a roll.

Storming the election booths

As election day snuck up on me like a lingering fart in a supermarket aisle, all I could think about was the insidious pain that continues to gather strength in my arthritic wrist.

Could I be feeling sympathy pains for Carps in my carpal region? Do I have a wrist that predicts political changes, just like some people can tell when rain is on the way?

I'm an outcast here in leafy Floreat. A battered man clinging to the bloated corpse of Brian Burke, desperately trying to stay afloat in a cruel sea of neo conservatism. The sharks are circling, taking sly snaps at mein host's greying flesh, waiting for me to lose my grip and sink below...

The local ALP candidate is hopelessly outgunned. There's no champagne on ice. In fact he's too young to drink - we hear he'll be showing his face at the local polling station once the soccer final is over. Another 10 years and the boy might be ready to step into the fray in a seat like Kingsley, where grinning ex-Brits are gathered around sausage sizzles, whinging about daylight saving and calling for graffiti vandals to be whipped in public.

Another handful of Voltarin and what the hell, let's wash it down with a slug of the Black Douglas the wife saves for Irish Coffee nights. It's going to be a long day and as I heard Shaun McManus say at a breakfast yesterday, 'that light at the end of the tunnel could well be the 7.35 to Fremantle.'

Time to head back to The Worst of Perth live election coverage...

The final countdown

Crikey Col, you were a bit cranky with the Woolfe boy on 720 ABC radio just then!

I know there's hundreds of vol-ou-vants and horse's doovers to knock up before tomorrow's shindig. And the missus needs the labs cleaned and polished. But to get all uppity and claim that this is THE most engaged you've ever seen WA voters during an election campaign, is clearly the rantings of a man who has smoked way too much herring... waaayyyy too much!BTW, have you moved on to the octopus already?

And Carps, if you play down your chances any further, you'll be conceding and handing over the keys the the Statesman before a single vote is cast in anger.

Sheesh boys, let's get a grip... One day to go.

Love Pump - live at the Wizbar

I just came across this weblink while backtracking through some archival material about Perth music in the 80s.

For those of you who ever had the pleasure of catching a wild Love Pump gig back in the late 80s, either at the Shents or the Wizbar where this audio was captured, no more need be said.

If anyone has seen my stovepipes and my black suede winklepicker boots, give me a shout!

Fear and loathing on the WA campaign trail

This election has given me the yips. There is no doubting that the Libs were in disarray only a few short weeks ago, but somehow, Colin Barnett has managed to haul himself out of his slippery-sided retirement canal and looks like having a 'sniff' of winning this race. Who woulda thunk it?

Much of his campaign to date has been based on asserting that Carps' decision to call a snap poll just as we were heading into two weeks of Olympics was the act of an arrogant and desperate man. "He's running and I'm chasing," Col said at the time.

Even Carps is now admitting that much of the shit being thrown has stuck to the blanket and his party is now claiming underdog status - the anti-arrogance ploy... would you like a powerpoint on that?

Making hay while he was nipping at Carps' heels, Col commissioned a series of ad campaigns that tailed off with the slogan, 'Carpenters can't fix everything' (or something equally as corny) complete with the sound of sawing and hammering. A particularly lamentable effort that appears to have been coined by the office work experience kid who no doubt thinks he / she has a fabulous career ahead in advertising - no, you don't.

But that old adage, it's time for a change, seems to have some momentum in this campaign. Yes, we all know the Libs have a list of ex-leaders that rivals Imelda Marcos' shoe collection, but apart from the canal cock up, Col appears to be gaining traction. It's a steep and treacherous slope, but he only has to hold on for two more weeks.

In a bid to knock Col off the pile, Carps is doing what all good West Aussies would, and launching a few well aimed boondies at his rival's bonce. He's hoping to find that rarest of rare boondies that's hiding a stone inside the crusty outer layer of relatively harmless sand. A boondie with a stone at its core is a sure fire way to land an unexpected and potentially critical blow to the Lib's campaign... they've been known to take out an eye and this is the sort of collatoral damage that the ALP is needing right about about now.

Today, Carps held a presser in the back of a combi van in South Terrace, Fremantle, promising to legislate to ban uranium mining... man... if he was re-elected. After passing the doobie across to the Greens - Olympic baton style - Carps calmly readjusted his kaftan, splashed on some patchouli and strolled arrog... ummm... purposefully across the road for a refreshing cup of lemon zinger.

Meanwhile, Col was impressing the kids on NOVA by promising the hosts that he'd personally buy them a handball to kickstart their bid to have Australia represent the sport at the next Olympic Games. Hip man. Broken hip.

So far, the voter comment that most effectively sums up this campaign was aired on 720 ABC radio yesterday. In response to the question, 'who will you be voting for?' a Kingsley woman giggled and fired back with, 'I dunno, whoever my husband's voting for'.

Is it any wonder that in this great State we can't buy groceries on a Sunday and people start foaming at the mouth when you mention daylight saving? And don't get me started on the front lawn. Just don't.

Hang tough and watch out for flying boondies.

JDRF Walk for a Cure

Hi all, time to show me the colour of your money!

In October, I'll be taking part in JDRF's Walk to Cure Diabetes, an event that raises money to find a cure for type 1 diabetes - a chronic, life-threatening illness that affects over 140,000 Australians and millions of people world-wide.

Almost every family is touched by this disease in some way, including my own.

Type 1 diabetes is an auto-immune disease that is not caused by poor diet or lifestyle choices. An individual with type 1 diabetes needs up to six insulin injections every day, just to stay alive, as well as multiple finger prick blood sugar tests.

People don’t grow out of type 1 diabetes and they are at risk of developing long-term life threatening complications, including kidney disease, blindness, limb amputation and heart failure.

As a father of three, and watching first-hand what this disease can do to a young person both physically and emotionally, a week doesn't go by when I don't wonder, "What if it's one of my kids next."

Type 1 diabetes is a disease that changes the lives of whole families. While young children are great at handling these profound changes, it can be heart breaking to watch as they grow into young adults only to realise the enormity of their battle ahead.

To put it into perspective, how would you feel knowing that by the time your son or daughter reaches the age of 25, they may be facing blindness as a result of diabetic retinopathy? Or, as was the case of one of JDRF’s long-serving patrons Susan Alberti, holding your daughter in your arms as she suffers heart failure mid-flight on her way for treatment?

JDRF is the world's leading non-profit contributor to type 1 diabetes research and the only charity dedicated solely to finding a cure through the support of medical research.

That's why I am walking – to help find a cure, to consign type 1 diabetes to the history books. All donations, regardless of amount, will bring us closer to a cure - and a cure is close, so your donation is very important.

Donate now by clicking on the link below.
When you donate a receipt will be automatically generated.

I WANT TO DONATE RIGHT NOW!

Bendigo Bank ad drops the 'C' word

I'm so very glad to see that it's not just me who thinks that the Bendigo Bank's latest ad is sending out a not so subtle message about how the community perceives your average financial institution.

Like myself, the good people at Crikeymedia couldn't help but notice that when the assembled characters in its ad come together, each bearing a different letter from the word COMMUNITY, the three letters in the background stand out from the rest - C_NT. Yes, the most wicked C word of them all.

That's all well and good, but the missing 'U' is being carried in the form of a balloon by a small girl, who is lifted into the heavens as the ad disolves into the Bendigo Bank logo, with the U rising up alongside it.

The first time I saw the ad I turned to my wife to ask the question, only to find her doing likewise and nodding with a bemused, wide-eyed smile. This morning a colleague wandered past my desk and asked if I'd seen the ad - 'yes, and yes' I replied immediately.

All I can think is that Bendigo Bank is using this not so subliminal message to tell us that while we're a part of your community, the bigger banks are just c**ts.

Hats off I say. As long as the nine-year-old doesn't turn to me in the break between Olympics action and ask 'Daddy, doesn't that spell c**t?' then why not.

I would have thought maybe a series of ads featuring different swear words might have been the go - start with a fart, build up to a shit, throw down the gauntlet with a f**k and then ram home the message with a c**t.

But then I'm not in advertising...

Subcontinent call centres go Aussie

I'm one of those people too lazy to have registered my number on the 'Please Stop Calling Me, Now Piss Off Before I Blow a Whistle In Your Ear' website.

Also, I like teh sport... like putting Sympathy for Devil on high volume and answering the door in your undies when the Mormon's come a knocking.

But just lately the call centre operators in whatever foreign locale they come from - primarily the subcontinent - have gone all Aussie on us. I'm juggling a baby in one arm, while knocking up a vegemite sandwich and doing the dishes at the same time, when inevitably the phone rings.

"Hello?"

....loooong pause (the dead giveaway it's a call centre operator on the other side of the globe).

"Hello, Mr Cookster? This is Kevin from South Sydney calling..." Now imagine Peter Sellers in The Party and that 'Birdy Num Nums' accent... or perhaps Greg Ritchie doing his outlandishly patronising 'Mahatma Coat' character. You get the idea that the liklihood of Kev being a Rabbitoh-supporting South Sydney lad is about as plausible as ... ummm... (can't think of his name) leading the Liberals to victory in the next Federal Election.

"How are you today Mr Cookster?"

"A bit crook to be honest Kev. Had a blue with the missus this mornin' then got done over by a used car salesman who's as slippery as a butcher's digit. Fair dinkum, I was that angry at the bloke I was shakin' like a shithouse in a thunderstom. Took me for a test run and the bastard couldn't drive a greasy stick up a dog's bum!

"So, Kev me old, what can I do you for? Mate, you there mate?"

Now there's one very confused phone operator who would have been asking some strange questions at the family repast that evening. "What is this, butcher's digit? And why do Australian's put greasy sticks in dog bottoms?"

To be honest, I would have given Kev the benefit of the doubt in this instance, particularly with foreign call centre operators copping a right old pasting in so many other forums, until I met Barb.

"Hello Mr Cookster, this is Barb from North Melbourne calling. How are you doing today?"

"Barb, g'day love, I'm bonser thanks - hey how about that grouse win by the Roos on Fridee night ay? Jeeze, a bloke wouldn't be dead for quids!"

You get the idea?

Anyone else taken a call from the likes of Murray from Mildura, Barry from Brisbane and Maureen from Mandurah? Drop me a line.

Too bad, so sad - Election 08

It appears that Mr Fels forgot to set his alarm clock and missed the cut off date to register People Against Daylight Saving (PADS) for the coming state election... what a shame. It's been a while since we've had a loony left runner to make things interesting.

But I wouldn't worry too much. Although Barnett's chief of staff position has gone to Deidre 'don't let the door hit you on the arse on the way out' Willmott, someone will need to be in charge of the Grand Canals Project (GCP) when it is sneakily foisted back onto the agenda. Anthony, that job is YOURS.

Expect more from me on the election later, but to be honest, I'm yet to be inspired. Right now I'm heading over to The West Online to see what in hell Paul Murray's latest blog headed up 'Is baby sniffing going too far?' is all about... surely not???

Drop me a line, or subscribe

A happy Wednesday to you and just a short note today to ask that if you are a regular visitor to The Perth Files, do me a favour and leave a comment on the post that takes your interest.

Or, look across to the right hand side bar and click on RSS feeds - takes two seconds and you'll be able to check when the latest posts are up... that way when I'm being a lazy bastard you don't have to waste your time dropping in.

A couple of simple reasons for the request:

Firstly it lets me know that you're out there and links me back to your site if you're a fellow blogger... if you've got an interest in what I'm saying, I'm sure I'll find your yarns of interest as well.

Quite simply, you interact with me and I'll drop in and help populate your comments pages...

Secondly, it raises my hopes that some of the dodgy keywords that bring people to TPF, read 'Kerry Anne + witch', 'Perth animal sex', 'cops die blog' etc, aren't leaving people disappointed in what they find here. I don't mind if these particular people are disappointed, in fact I hope they are, but it'd be nice to know about it when people actually find what they're looking for, or enjoy what they find.

I also don't mind if you have a go at me either. Nothing like a bit of robust debate, so knock yourselves out :-)

So go on. Can I has comments pleeze? You can also find me lurking about facebook, or going by the monicker of freocookster on twitter.

Thanks to Darren Rowse at pro blogger for his insight.

People Against Daylight Savings - update

* Okay, I've just heard that Anthony Fels new party is actually called People Against Daylight Savings (PADS).

According to Labor, pads will be lining Anthony's cell as he takes a one way ride to the "political lunatic fringe".

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/08/01/2321435.htm?site=perth

Fels launches Anti-Daylight Savings Party

Fallen Lib Anthony Fels says that starting an Anti-Daylight Savings Party and running under this ticket at the next election is not a diversionary tactic, just a cheap way to win votes in the rural sector.

Attempting to extract Noel Chrichton-Browne's hand out from within his sock puppet persona, Felsy claims that DLS is the most pressing issue to our rural voters. To hell with climate change, salination, drought, land degredation and a faltering economy... nup, DLS is the cruncher.

And he's already started on the propaganda trail, inserting a call to arms on the issue in this very clever cinema advertising campaign - it kicks in at about the two minute mark.

Wasn't life great in the 50s? No nasty DLS and you could buy butter soaked popcorn, braised offal and your favourite full strength ciggies from the drive-in snack bar... why do I get the feeling that some people would like to take us back there?

The Worst of Perth - Richie Benaud

A shout out to the peeps at The Worst of Perth and that very funny man The Lazy Aussie (TLA), who is responsible for driving at least half of the 5-6 people who visit this site every day... okay, maybe there are more, but it's not like there's any danger of The Perth Files melting down from a traffic overload.

Anyway,Teh Cookster has become quite the fan of TWOP and very happy to supply the odd pic or video where I feel they may have TWOP potential, ie, the current Richie Benaud image and the Subi Oval poo vid that is causing the boy so much angst.

So, once you've finished here --- and please stay as long as you like --- get over to The Worst of Perth and join the merry gang in a bit of banter on the very best of the worst things our fine city has to offer.

Oh and be sure and tell your friends to visit. And please be my friend on facebook... Needy? Clingy? Just plain creepy? You betcha!

'Be bold Perth people'

A well crafted blog by Stephen Bevis, Arts Editor of The West Australian, on the dilema facing the Perth populace over the redevelopment of the Swan River foreshore.

He's right on the money when he suggests that erring on the side of caution on this one is destined to leave us with something second rate, a 'coulda been' development that promised so much more.

The Pope down under

Great to see that some creative minds have started cranking up the Pope merchandise, although a bit too late to take advantage of those cashed-up young Catholics who were here in numbers only a short time ago.

You could store this little number in your drawer alongside your Pope-pourri.

Ahem, boom-tish...

Super glue? Yeah right!

I'm a bit shagged today to be honest. What with all those mountain stages of the Tour De Doping over the past few nights, a man has his limits. If you see me heading towards the edge of a steep cliff with a deep valley below, be sure to throw some Powerade in my fatigued face, or at least grab me by the sissy bar.

Good job I don't actually ride a bike. Unless it's some kind of holiday thing to keep the kids happy, or I'm at Rottnest where the bastard bike is the only form of land transport.

But I digress. What I wanted to talk about was what is probably the world's most over-hyped, but completely useless product - super glue.

Over many years I've kept a miniscule tube of this crap in my 'handyman's kit' --- Grandad's old Gladstone fishing bag --- and pulled it out on occasion to fix the unfixable. Success rate? Zero per cent.

Today I tried bonding two bits of smooth, clean plastic together --- standard fare --- and I even clamped it together for 10 minutes. Nothing. Could have achieved a better result with Clag and there wouldn't be any chance of glueing my hand to my penis when I went for a mid-job leak.

The stuff appears to be bloody fantastic when it comes to bonding human body parts, but have a crack with wood, plastic, metal, ceramics (think cracked bong many, many years ago... man) and it is the proverbial tits on a bull.

Okay, maybe I'm doing it all wrong, but if that was the case I think I'd be in care, with a bib around my neck to catch the drool. Maybe I should be. But can ANYONE out there share any stories of success with super glue? Please!

I recall the ads where some construction worker dork is suspended from the ground by his helmet (on his head... keep it nice!) which is superglued to a rafter. Quite a line in bullshit I'm thinking. I'd like to see the company CEO try the same trick at about 800 metres.

Your thoughts?

Bring back the Pope Scope!

Well, the Pontif has come and gone, leaving a lot of Catholic youth facing their biggest comedown since the red cordial days.

Sure it was great to see old Ratzy out there on the Harbour, donning the policemen's hat, pressing the flesh, etc, etc, but I'm a little non-plussed with the lack of merch being peddled on the streets.

Where the hell... excuse the blasphemy... are the Pope's authorised tour t-shirts and bomber jackets? Why can't I get my own souvenir pointy hat? You would have at least thought we'd see a few old man Pope masks, or Papal staffs that play a burst of 'Wassa Matter You?' when you press a button on the handle.

Sheesh! Back in the day when we had the last Papal appearance, good old WA Salvage had the foresight to mass produce carboard 'Pope Scopes' - I guess it was Luigi's RC upbringing that prompted this wise marketing decision. And you know what, I did sava-da-money and puchased at least half a dozen of these crude, yet highly effective periscopes.

Sadly, they were all stolen by crack heads and heathens back in my university days, so I can't show you the design. And no, I never actually spotted the Pope, but those suckers were just the thing for live gigs and keeping an eye on our attractive next door neighbour.

For the love of God, someone please tell me this occasion didn't go by without nairy a Pope scope in sight? Surely not???

Only in America Part II

Of course, the same group that is falling over itself to support the AFA in its homophobic boycott of McDonald's, also retails a dandy line in neo-conservative t-shirts.

If you're a right wing nut job and you want the world to know it, WorldNetDaily can fit you up for a pro-gun, anti-Obama, kill the pinko, t-shirt of your choice from small sizes to suit the kiddies, right up to your XXXXXXL grandaddy of 'em all.

Here are a couple of my favourites, although the 'Meat is Murder... tasty, tasty murder' and 'Pave the Whales', complete with a bulldozer running over said whale, takes the cake for sheer bloody-minded stupidity.

Let me know if you have a leftist slogan that can match it with this lot.

The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs: Proof that God exists and has a sense of humor

The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs: Proof that God exists and has a sense of humor

Only in America...

Lordy, lordy, pants on fire! Yes, in another example of how some things can only ever happen in the US of A, deep, dark conservative right group the American Family Association (AFA)are boycotting McDonald's because they claim it supports and encourages homosexuality.

According to US-based blog Think Progress:

AFA is upset at McDonald’s for refusing to condemn Vice President of Communications Richard Ellis’s decision to serve on the Board of Directors of the National Gay & Lesbian Chamber of Commerce (NGLCC). AFA President Donald Wildmon said the situation is “strange” because “it’s the family that McDonald’s appeals to — children’s playland, you know, all the little toys, all of that. And they are promoting a lifestyle that would utterly destroy the traditional family.”

Okay, "all the little toys, all of that." So I'm assuming that Don's belief is that gay people don't have an appreciation of playland and toys... possibly too busy having rampant sexual encounters in leather bars, or trying their hardest to get into poor Don's well starched y-fronts?

I have to say, in my years of public relations work for the Golden Arches (yes, I do PR work for McDonald's in Western Australia), having to prepare a statement to combat this sort of homophobic, red neck agenda, is something I haven't yet had the pleasure to do.

Here are a few comments that have been posted on the Boycott McDonald's website:

"WE GO TO MCDONALDS FOR YEARS. NO MORE. WE WILL NEVER SET FOOT IN YOUR PLACE AGAIN. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF FAMILY PLACES APPROVING THE GAY LESBIAN ALLIANCE. NO MORE KIDS MEALS FOR US. AND MANY OTHERS WILL BE TOLD ABOUT IT."

"McDonald's says they are committed to diversity. Political Correctness and diversity are two of the major reasons that this country is in such a mess. Diversity is not a strength. It is a weakness. Diversity divides a country or a pople. Also homosexual life style is one of the major reasons that Greek and Roman empires fell. I will not eat at McDonals' again."

Sweet jesus, we're talkin' some real homeland folks here, the sort of people who still cheer at the final scenes in Easy Rider where Hopper and Fonda get blown off their choppers. Yes siree, aint no diversity 'llowed round those parts, whether it be racial, cultural or sexual.

And there's nothing like a sweeping statement that homosexuality "is one of the major reasons that Greek and Roman empires fell". Well, ah don't rightly know if a bit of mano-a-mano action really had much to do with all that Jim Bob, Billy Joe or whatever name your Mama (or was it your Sister?) decided to annoint you with. Maybe you just fell off a rogue steer, hit your head and you aint thinkin' straight?

This one's a real cracker:

"Dearest McDonalds, I am deeply saddened at your decision to sponsor the sodomitic lifestyle. Thoughts have consequences, which usually lead to actions and it seems that McDonalds has caved to a few sodomites that believe that their choice to have sexual relations with the same sex is on par with other true civil rights. I am sorry to say that my limited discretionary spending allocated to fast food will now go to any other restaurant besides your own. McDonalds...Think things through and seek the will of God, not the will of people who believe that their physical urges to have sex in an un-natural manner have any priority what-so-ever. Good Luck...:("

But of course, this person, obviously not "sodomotic" only ever has sex in a perfectly "natural" manner. Or maybe she isn't getting any at all?

The common thread in all these comments is that these people want McDonald's to remain "neutral". Well, I'm sorry, a company that employs and serves a diverse range of people who are white, black, asian, hispanic, straight, gay, christian, muslim, jewish, rastafarian, etc, etc, etc, is socially obligated to support their rights as independently thinking human beings.

It's the bloody minded and ignorant members of society who think their way is the be all and end of of civilisation that pose the greatest threat to our way of life. Maybe our more progressive companies recognise this and are quite happy to leave you behind as they move ahead with the times?

Fishing the social media seas

I loved this quote that was in the program for a great PRIA seminar I attended today on New Media and PR:

'The good news is, everyone's visible online. The bad news is we're all three inches tall.' Seth Godin, Purple Cow.

It reminds me of a tag line that fellow blogger Tea Brennan once used: 'I went outside once and the graphics were shit.'

Yes, there's no doubt that we're all spending a truck load more time hanging out and communicating online and those conversations are bouncing around out there on the interwebs for EVERYONE to read.

And trawling this vast sea of information are whole fleets of search engines like Google Alert, dipping their lines into the briny and landing fat, fishy hauls of conversation into the inboxes of people worldwide. Us fisherpeople specify what species of information we're after, but just like the 'real world', sometimes you've got to wear the odd clump of seaweed, or pull your hook off an information snag.

* Okay, it's a tenuous analogy, but it's the best I can do over a luke warm coffee and a bag of orange snakes! *

What today's seminar has reinforced is that the term virtual reality is increasingly a misnomer. Today's online world is as real as bricks and mortar and for people working in the communications game it's a case of come on board today, or risk becoming the techno dinosaurs of tomorrow.

Yeah, you're probably saying 'ah, der!', but as someone who has had their toe in the online world since 2005, there is so much I still need to learn... and it changes every day. While we have office IT - slash - techno geeks who champion the online world, in some countries they have PR people who work exclusively within 'teh interwebs' - Digital Influence Teams... go figure! In Australia we're still fighting for the right to access facebook at work.

I also found out this morning that blogging is like ohhhh sooooo yesterday, but hey, I'm an old fashioned sorta guy. Twittering is now the way to go, so expect me to drag myself out of the briny and up into the big blue sky any day soon! And beyond that I'll be Plurking and Plazing on my mobile phone.

Yes indeed, it's time to get with the program or risk legions of smarmy Gen-Y fake tan purveyors snickering at us as we get our Twitters confused with our facebooks.

A big thanks to: Richard Giles from Recommendations Ventures and scouta.com; Bronwen Clune, CEO of Norg Media, founder of perthnorg.com.au; and Steven Taylor from Creative Nature Communications who has been using the interwebs since the days when Commodore 64s were still being traded on the open market.

One last thing - I know all three of you have got your information long-lines dangling in the briny waiting for any company mentions via Google Alert, so if you do happen to sail past The Perth Files, please be sure to leave me a message.

Gas crisis, what crisis?

Since Carps captured the airwaves last night to advise us to stop burning so much gas, there have already been a few grumblings among those who feel it's their God given right to chew through our natural resources, no matter how finite they might be. To these people, the pipeline explosion may as well have taken place on Uranus for all they care...

Anyway, I'm convinced that those who flaunt the call to turn down the gas are the same people who steadfastly refuse to obey water restrictions and would defend their right to have a green lawn (and a warm house) with sawn-off shotguns, if they could only convince the powers that be that guns are good. Yes, while I'm outside hosing the leaves off my driveway, I demand the right to fire up the Rinnai space heater... and I'll leave all the lights on as well, so ner!

I'm sure that these people are a small minority, but if anyone out there really does feel aggrieved at the thought of having to layer up to beat the chill instead of hitting a switch, they should remember how the gas crisis could be so much worse. This Wikipedia extract gives you some context:

The fire at the plant was not extinguished until two days later. The Longford plant was shut down immediately, and the state of Victoria was left without its primary gas supplier. Within days, the Victorian Energy Network Corporation shut down the state's entire gas supply.

The sudden crisis was devastating to Victoria's economy, crippling industry and the commercial sector (in particular, the hospitality industry which relied on natural gas for cooking).

Natural gas is also widely used residentially in Victoria for hot water and gas heating, and Victorians endured 20 days of cold showers and chilly nights.

Gas supplies to Victoria were resumed on 14 October. Many Victorians were outraged and upset to discover only minor compensation on their next gas bill, with the average compensation figure being only around $10.

Yes, I was living in Melbourne at the time and while we Perthites do cop our early morning chills, imagine living with days on end where the temperature struggles to get beyond 12 degrees at any stage. Then try and imagine how having NO gas would affect you. And when I say no gas, I mean having your gas turned off at the meter and $5,000 fines if you get caught turning them back on.

Having no gas means no hot showers for a start, unless you have an electric hot water system. Oh joy, struggle out of bed at 5am and spend the next 30 minutes boiling the kettle non-stop to get enough hot water for a sponge bath. Those brave enough, or in desperate need of a proper hair wash, simply ran the gauntlet and endured an ice cold shower. Bracing, very bracing.

Of course, those with electric systems found their houses resembling the old Rottnest Island shower building, with people lined up, shower cap in hand.

And then there were those who gave up on bathing... I met quite a few of them on the public transport system. A fragrant bunch.

So, you can't shower, but maybe you can make up for it with a nice cooked breakfast? No, not if you're like many people who have a gas stove and oven. Suddenly every night is Lean Cuisine night. In the evenings you sit cold and slightly stinky in front of the flameless gas heater, chewing miserably on your TV dinner, watching the news for reports on those shameless parasitic scumbags who dare turn their gas back on.

A lot of children were spawned on those dark cold nights, so here's a thought! Rather than procrastinate about turning down the heating, do the wise thing and procreate instead - your country will thank you...

Friday the 13th

I'm not normally spooked by Friday the 13th, or the number 13 in general - both my wife and sister were born on the 13th and I'm yet to find the number of the beast tatooed on their heads... I have looked though.

However, this Friday the 13th was different, thanks largely to that blonde woman of indeterminate age on TV who reportedly used to be Kerrie Anne Kennerly.

Yes, I was doing the dad at home routine and inbetween mopping up sodden toast crusts and soiled nappies I sat down to check out Mornings with Kerrie-Anne, just to see how the old girl was travelling. When I worked at Channel Nine in Melbourne for a year, I shared an office with a larger than life framed photo of Kezza and a box of muesli once owned by Frankie J Holden, so I look on her as on old friend... how old I'm not exactly sure.

Anyway, after initially being taken aback by the bigger than big hair and ever deepening cleavage, I noted that she'd taken on a Friday the 13th theme - gravestones, plastic skeletons, lava lamps (WTF?) etc. And all her guests were involved with 'spooky stuff', including a white witch with a head of hair that looked like a stage prop... or a well groomed mop.

One of the the statistics they threw up on the show was that on Friday the 13th there is a 60% increase in traffic accidents. Great, I was taking the baby, a three-year-old and my son on a trip half way across Perth later that day and not only was I taking on Australia's worst drivers, I was now 60% more likely to encounter one that was totally wigged-out by superstitious Friday the 13th voodoo shit.

But hey, the weather was good, visibility excellent and the people mover in better working order than most Qantas jets... so off we went.

All went well for the first third of the journey and we were almost at the Leach Highway exit on the freeway when my nuff-nuff radar burst into action. Hello, hello, those boxes on the back of that ute don't look too stable. Hmmm, why is he driving like that. Okay, let's hope that box about to topple onto the road is empty...

Of course it wasn't empty. It was full. It was full of a large piece of steel, commonly refered to as a washing machine. Box hits freeway 10 metres in front of me, I brake slowly but forcefully, washing machine comes flying out of the box and skids across into the centre lane in a shower of sparks. Luckily, no one was in that lane next to me and even luckier still that the freakin' thing didn't head straight back into the people mover - I don't know what would happen if you hit a washing machine at 80 clicks, but it can't be good.

So we continued on our journey and finally got home safely, with nairy a whitegood in sight for the remainder of the trip.

Next year I'll stay at home and do a few loads of washing instead. And if the Miele even looks like trying to go me, I'll give it a swift clip around the soap tray. Thanks Kezza.

Bring back Boston Legal at 9.30!

Going off topic, I just wanted to vent for a moment about Channel Seven's decision to air the particularly lame, run of the mill new crime offering Criminal Minds at 9.30pm on Monday nights.

My beef? It pushes Boston Legal, arguably television's finest offering right now, out to a 10.30pm timeslot which is too 'effing late for this little black duck.

In recent weeks I've enjoyed ending my Monday nights with William Shatner and James Spader as they ponder the week just gone over a cognac and Cuban cigar on the balcony of their Boston condo... it's funny, it's irreverent, it's politically incorrect and it doesn't involve a bunch of scowling crime geeks solving some half arsed crime that no one gives a toss about anyway.

I'm sorry, but I'm so over the CSI-style television genre that I was never on the bandwagon in the first place.

I seem to recall the same fate afflicting The Sopranos and the West Wing... not good enough! It's bad enough when regular shows are pushed back by the likes of So You Think You Can Dance, Sing, Skate, Perform Open Heart Surgery, without this sort of blatant 'up yours' programming.

If you want to have your say, send 'em an email: programs@7perth.com.au

UPDATE:

I just got this email back from Channel Seven in response to my complaint and it's not good news:

Dear Mr Cooke

Thank you for your email.

We appreciate the time you have taken to contact us, as it is only through viewers such as yourself that we can gauge reactions to our programming.

Unfortunately Boston Legal has not attracted enough viewers for it to remain in the 9.30pm timeslot.

Regards

Janine Vidot
Program Department
Channel Seven Perth

So, people... we have a problem. I forsee a day when television will be comprised entirely of reality TV shows and crime dramas... with a sprinkle of Desperate Housewives to keep the Sex in the City brigade happy.

Maybe instead of relying entirely on numbers, potential advertisers should crunch the demographics and target a specific market, ie, today we'll try and sell our product in to 1.5 million people with a brain as opposed to 7 million people who are still trying to work out if it's feasible to microwave your own hand.

FFS, if a great show like Boston Legal can't hold down a 9.30pm timeslot on a Monday night, the future of clever TV is doomed.

Perth as it used to be... and still is

Ahhh, the good old days - all this joint needs is a bit of lawn!

I reckon if this was the scene facing us today, the developers would be licking their lips and falling over themselves to prepare concepts for a waterfront tourism precinct.

Amazingly, apart from the mud flats making way for the lawn, things haven't changed that much. They've spruced Kings Park up a bit and knocked up a bridge to let West Coast supporters across to the other side of the river (bad move), but essentially us West Aussies continue the tradition of frocking up and heading to the big hill overlooking the city to check out the view.

They also had a lot less blue green algie back in the day and I hear you could net a bucket of king prawns the size of a truckie's forearm in a lazy half hour. These days you're more likely to bag the odd blind mullet, but there are still plenty of red herrings to keep things interesting.

Fantasy Island

While the conservative elements pour scorn on the development of the Perth waterfront, it would seem that the likes of Troy 'Sniffer' Buswell are prepared to consider the construction of a whacking great island off the coast at Rous Head in North Fremantle.

The $10 billion project which would bring a touch of Dubai to the West Coast has been snubbed outright by Carps, but some factions among the Libs reckon it's worth a look.

Now I know The Perth Files has been banging on of late about how Perth City needs to connect to the river, but I'm not suggesting that we uproot the CBD and plonk it down mid-stream! That stretch of coastline at North Freo has already undergone its fair share of jiggery-poke to meet the needs of the Port and residential development and any further incursion into the sea poses the risk of forever damaging some of our best metropolitan beaches.

Does anyone else remember that only a couple of years ago a trip to Leighton meant keeping an eye out for large chunks of concrete and limestone debris being hurled at you in the dumping shore break?

Yeah, well it's all good now, but start dicking about with the shape of the coastline once again and who knows what sort of shore we'll end up with... not that the cashed-up elite sipping G&Ts on their island decking hogging the views of Rottnest will give a toss.

I do believe the outcome we've seen in Mandurah is a case in point - very nice for those that do, but 'thanks for coming, but don't let the door at the fish 'n' chip shop hit you on the arse on your way home'.

First things first - let's get some sensible development happening on the Perth waterfront and then maybe we can take a look at Gilligan's Island. And it's worth remembering that our kids will be researching retirement village options long before the first concrete slab on a proposal like this is even poured.

The Lucky Shag...

I had an interesting chat over the weekend about all this waterfront development hoo-ha with a bloke from the UK who knows a thing or two about tourism and the creation of city entertainment precincts.

We first caught up some months ago, both stretched out on a large tract of grass in the midst of well heeled Claremont watching our kids play cricket.

When conversation on the subject of gout drew to its painful conclusion, we turned to another topic of much angst - how boring Perth is.

I asked him his views on our fair city, having lived much of his life in the throbbing metropolis of London, and his answer went something like this:

'The day after I arrived I wandered out of my hotel, across Langley Park and took a long walk along the river. And you know what I thought, why would anyone want to change this, it's spectacular!

"I did the same thing the next day and again, couldn't understand why they wanted to change the waterfront.

"The following day the excitement started to wane just a little. After a week I looked out of my hotel window and decided, bugger it, I'm bored shitless and I went in search of somewhere on the river where I could grab a coffee and some breakfast.

"That's what led me past the entirely uninspiring bell tower, onto the Barrack Street Jetty and into... no way, you're taking the pish... The Lucky Shag".

We both chuckled over this, checked to make sure our kids weren't hitting each other with cricket bats and then mused on what could be done. Before too long the Sunday morning gout was playing up again, the kids were pouring 'raw' Milo down their throats (sponsor) and it was time to fire up the people mover for the trip home.

We agreed to talk further over a few beers at Perth's premium waterfront entertainment spot, The Lucky Shag... who knows, we might just get lucky!

Dig up the lawn now!

I was sitting in the small room the other evening, perusing my local press, when a letter to the editor caught my eye headed up 'Disneyland effect not worthy of Perth'.

Hello, hello, I thought, here's another one of the 'get up early, go to bed early' brigade having a whinge about the proposed ferris wheel. And sure enough, that's exactly what Tony G of Mount Hawthorn targeted in his ill informed tirade.

Now, the idea of a ferris wheel on the Swan doesn't exactly light my candles, but then I don't think this whole issue is about a ferris wheel - it could be a giant model of a dog t@#d and it would still make the same point... the Perth foreshore is as boring as bat faeces and hardly anyone ever uses all that "beautiful, wide open space" as Tony writes.

This ferris wheel is all about plonking something large and distracting into an area that is grossly underutilised to make people sit up and think, 'crikey, maybe we could make better use of that space?'

You see, us Perthites suffer from a rare and degenerative condition know as 'Lawnis-idioticus'... in common terms, a desperate need to install large tracts of lawn at the front of our homes that run from the front door to the road and are rarely used except for parking purposes.

Take a run through leafy Floreat or Wembley one day and you'll get the picture. These days the disease is on the wane, but only because greedy developers are cramming as many dwellings as possible on what were once single home blocks.

But while new homes aren't infected with Lawn Fever, the minds of our good citizens still are and they will do all they can to protect these patches of turf that may as well be painted concrete for all the good they're worth - at least concrete doesn't suck up rain and groundwater at a rate that makes your eyes spin.

So what's this got to do with Perth City? Aha, you see just as our suburbs were infected with this disease, so was the city itself. Langley Park and all those other parks that stretch from the front door mats of our city buildings, right down to Riverside Drive and beyond, to meet the uninspiring concrete retainer wall at the Swan River, are our city's front lawn.

Sure, a few office workers wander down there to eat lunch... there's a few games of softball hosted over the weekend, but tell me, when was the last time you made use of the city's front lawn? Did you stand there half cut on Australia Day, draped in the Aussie flag, tapping your toes to 'You're the Voice' while you watched barges catch fire on the river?

Our city waterfront is a joke. Sure, as Tony writes 'we have one of the world's best views from Kings Park', but Tony, it's only a view - how long can you stand there looking at the Perth city skyline before you think, 'oh well, back to the suburbs, there's the lawn to be watered...'

I want a city that I can use. One that connects me to the river in a meaningful way. I would enjoy that view a damn site better if I was right next to it, enjoying a good meal or a few drinks with friends, excited about being in the city... not embarrassed about the fact that the only place we can go riverside is at the old Swan Brewery, or The Lucky Shag.

If Perth City was a meal dished up to Gordon Ramsay, his retort would no doubt be, "F*&@'s sake, what is this shit".

Tony, you ask 'Why is there this notion that Perth is not as good as other cities?' Well, that'd be because it's not. Take a stroll around Northbridge at 1.00am, or a leisurely jaunt along Murray Street one day. Better still, try St Georges Tce after close of business hours - see what I mean? No, it doesn't look as good as it does from Kings Park does it? BUT IT COULD!!!

Melbourne has a river that you can almost jump over and they do things better than us. In Brisbane it was only a few years ago that outside dining was considered a crime against God and yet they do it better than us.

So Tony, don't worry about the freakin ferris wheel, just try and consider that if we've got that much open space sitting around doing nothing, then maybe it's time we got a bit creative and dug up the front lawn once and for all.

Crap Elvis is on the road

Former 96fm funnyman, pommy geezer, ant impersonator and all round top bloke, Matt Hale, is on the road for a world tour in his latest guise, Crap Elvis.

Yes, not content to take on the world in a selection of long shorts and loud shirts, Matty instead opted for a crap $30 Elvis suit and hence, Crap Elvis was born.

I recall discussing the plan late last December over a number of drinks at the PPR Christmas Party, where oddly enough he was in civvies while I was doing my best Crap John Belushi, aka Jake from The Blues Brothers, impersonation.

Little did we both know that the concept would engulf the world media faster than a West Aussie bushfire, sparked largely by a 'Hunka, Hunka, Burning Toast'. Yes, while the US script writers have put away their pencil sharpeners, Matty is on fire, penning such greats as 'Be My Terrorist' - 'strap a bomb around my waist and put a bomb on it, oh let me be, your terrorist'.

The toast of the Parkes Elvis Festival in regional New South Wales, Crap Elvis has swept all before him in taking out awards for being the worst looking and worst sounding Elvis EVER.

In an exclusive interview with The Perth Files, Crap Elvis has confirmed that his crapness has exceeded even his wildest expectations. "I knew I was crap, but until you actually get up on stage and convince the crowd to start waving their toast in the air, you can't know just how utterly crap you can be - it comes from a place deep inside me," Crap explained.

Take heed world, Crap Elvis is coming your way and I for one can't wait to see the footage of our man in the cheap faux satin suit belting out a rousing rendition of 'Be My Terrorist' at the Alabama State Fair and White Supremacy Convention.

Pot calling the kettle a monkey?

Nah, calling a bloke a monkey isn't racist - what's wrong with Andrew Symonds, can't he take a joke? Instead he should have given Singh a friendly punch on the shoulder, called him a curry munching rag head, had a good laugh and trotted back to mid on and got on with it... crikey, sensitive or what!

But Brad Hogg, well... talk about stepping over the mark. Fancy calling someone a BASTARD! The ICC should suspend him immediately and put him through a three month anger management course - yep, I've always thought that affable sheep farmer with the overactive tongue approach was simply a front for a very angry, angry, spiteful man.

And Gilchrist! Oh yes, all well and good to spend most of his free weekends in Perth helping out at the local Auskick and Have a Go Cricket Clinics, then drop in for a visit to Ronald McDonald House where he's the Patron... but it's all a ruse! Underneath that good guy exterior is an evil genius plotting the downfall of subcontinent cricket with his evil primate mates Ponting and Symonds.

It's a disgrace I tells ya - sack 'em all!

What right does the ICC have to believe that Singh called Symonds a monkey? It's not as though he's done it before has he? Oh dear, he has?

Anil Kumble, what a vision of sportsmanship - how does the saying go? 'I'm pulling up my stumps and going home, screw you guys'. Good on him. Nothing like a good old whinge over a bowl of sour grapes when you lose a game of cricket I say.

And while you're at it, why not really spit the dummy and play tit-for-tat on abuse accusations - you reported our leading spin bowler, so we'll report yours... nah, nah, nah! But come on Kumble, 'bastard' is a term of abuse that's hardly likely to change the course of international relations, how about dragging out the 'C' word, or maybe you could say he called you a 'bitch' or 'ho' to make it a cross gender thing.

At the end of the day the most satisfying outcome is seeing the good people of India rightiously going about their business of burning effigies of black men (the other black men), most notably Symonds and Bucknor. Boy oh boy, and the t-shirts are a great touch - how imaginative and so subtle in their message - what a great time to be an Indian cricket supporter!

What the ICC has to recognise is that it isn't the world body in cricket - it's the Board of Control for Cricket in India. It's a cheek that the Indian side should even have to leave its own shores!

I for one will be wearing my best gorrilla suit to the WACA test and proudly putting my Bic lighter to the Australian flag - enough of all this monkey business and let's hear it for the Turbinator!

Sunday trading - grow up Perth!

Good lord, we have wall to wall Labor governments, we have daylight savings and at last someone looks like taking the Japanese to task over their obsession with ingesting blubber...

AND, the state government is pushing the Sunday trading bandwagon, that has until now been more of a Sunday trading shopping trolley, complete with dodgy wheels and a distinct lack of direction.

Now I've said it about 47 times and I'll say it again, wake up and smell the coffee Perth, Sunday trading is not going to be the next Y2K (gee, so nothing happened there either?); it is not going to raise Satan from his fiery lair to smote us in our sleep; it is NOT going to cause prices to rise!

Can we please shut up with the notion that Sunday is a family day, hence the shops should remain closed so we can all sit around the fondue set knitting scarves and playing UNO... eff off!!! With three kids, every day is a frigging family day for me, so why the hell can't I go and buy something on a Sunday? Would it be okay if I took the kids?

I do not enjoy the mad scramble to shop on a Saturday morning and as all parents will know, Thursday nights are a nightmare... Sunday is good. Hey, church opens on a Sunday, so what about Harvey Norman?

Okay, that last comment might be somewhat below the belt, but this town is exasperating and drives a man to the edge of reason... come on folks, embrace the change and the next person who says 'if it aint broke, don't fix it' cops it in the neck.

Movember update

Lordy, lordy, pants on fire - this is the day 13 mark and I am Mr Dodgy with his prickly slo-gro mo-fo mo... bro.

Movember - pledge your support!

During Movember (the month formerly known as November) men, young and old, across Australia will be cultivating some form of growth on their collective upper lips.

This year Cookster has signed up to become a Mo Bro to help change the state of men's health and to join the fight against male depression and prostate cancer.
Current statistics show that:

Depression affects 1 in 6 men...Most don't seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide.

Last year in Australia 18,700 men were diagnosed with prostate cancer and more than 2,900 died of prostate cancer - equivalent to the number of women who die from breast cancer annually.

Men are far less healthy than women. The average life expectancy of males is 5 years less than females.

If you would like to sponsor my Mo can go to http://www.movember.com/au/donate enter my registration number which is 75928 and your credit card details. Or you can sponsor me by cheque made payable to the "Movember Foundation" clearly marking the donation as being for my Registration Number: 75928. Please mail cheques to: PO Box 292, Prahran VIC 3181. All donations over $2 are tax deductible.

The money raised by Movember is donated to the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue - the national depression initiative, which will use the funds to create awareness, fund research and increase support networks for those men who suffer from prostate cancer and male depression.

For those that have supported Movember in previous years you can be very proud of the impact it has had and can check out the detail at: Fundraising Outcomes.

More info is available at www.movember.com
GO THE MO!!!

Golf legends coming to Perth

Legends of international golf, including Ian Baker-Finch and Jan Stephenson, will gather in Perth for the Handa Australia Cup at Nedlands Golf Club on Saturday 27 and Sunday 28 October 2007.

The Handa Australia Cup is the world’s only golf tournament to feature male and female golfing legends playing alongside the next generation of golfing stars, including the leading junior boy and girl from each state. It is also the only competition where male and female golfers compete for the same trophy.

The competition was founded by Japanese businessman and philanthropist Haruhisa Handa, who is also the Honorary Patron of the International Blind Golf Association.

“The Handa Australia Cup is about joining the generations – bringing together rising stars and past champions in one unique tournament,” Dr Handa explained.

Competing in the Senior Female category will be legends such as Jan Stephenson, Jane Blalock, Alicia Dibos and Cindy Rarick. These legends will compete alongside some of the world’s greatest male golfing icons, including Ian Baker-Finch, Roger Davis, Wayne Grady and 2006 champion Garry Merrick.

The 2007 Handa Australia Cup marks the return of golfing great Ian Baker-Finch to professional tournament golf after a five year break. “We are very excited that Ian has chosen to play our tournament and it’s a real honour to have him in Perth for his professional return,” said Tournament Chairman Wayne Smith.

Now in its second year, the 36 hole event will be preceded by a Pro Am on Friday, 26 October and the Australian Blind Golf Championship – Australian Open tournament from Tuesday 23 to Thursday 25 October.

The purse for the senior men and women professionals will be AU$100,000. This is the second largest senior purse in Australia, surpassed only by the Handa Australian Senior Open Championship and the Legends Tour Open Championship to be played the following week at Concord Golf Club in Sydney.

Spectators for the Handa Australia Cup are welcome and entry is free. For further information contact Tournament Coordinator Gemma Liddelow at Vault Sports Management: gemma.liddelow@vaultsm.com or (08) 9228 0877.

What: Handa Australia Cup
Where: Nedlands Golf Club, Melvista Avenue, Nedlands
When: Saturday 27 and Sunday 28 October 2007 – daily tee off will commence at approximately 10.30am. The Pro-Am on Friday 26 October will have a shot gun start at 12.00pm.

Apologies...

I have been a very tardy correspondent of late and I blame Facecrack for this malaise... I've also been BUSY at my place of work and of late been as crook as a dog (love that saying!) with some kind of flu.

For now look me up at facebook, but I shall return to the blogosphere soon...

A letter to John Howard

Dear Mr Howard

I know things are tough for you at the moment. It can't be much fun having that fishnet tight wearing, woolly haired chap constantly knocking on your door and then running away giggling when you open it - beware if you find a piece of flaming toilet paper on the mat, I wouldn't put it past that rosy cheeked buffoon to give that prank an outing.

And of course there's that fellow they call 'Dog' slobbering down your well starched collar, breathing his meaty breath and always whining about not getting the most comfy chair in the house.

Dreadful stuff for a man of your imposing stature to have to endure and you can bet there will be no apologies when the fat's in the fire and that platinum haired doyen of the strip circuit is firmly ensconced in the Lodge purveying his latest collection of Fyshwick-sourced jazz magazines.

But John, if I may call you that, I digress here. What I really wanted to ask you is a very simple question - where exactly is the BOOM you talk about? You know, the one that has given us untold riches and made life under your government such a joy for the past decade.

Call me stupid, but I can't seem to find this boom anywhere. I went to my real estate agent to see if it was there, but they just told me to wake up to myself and forget about buying a house unless I wanted a one room shed on the outskirts of Goomalling. Then they increased my rent by $100 a week, shoved me through the exit and told me to make sure the door didn't hit me on the arse on the way out.

John, I'm now paying 45% more in rental costs than I was 18 months ago. Is that the boom?

John, my wage has increased by around 5%, is that all part of your plan too?

So I rubbed my tender backside, picked myself up off the footpath and went down to the local supermarket to put a lay-by on half a kilo of bananas. Then I looked around and marvelled at just how expensive everything had become. For the most part of your reign John I had lived in Melbourne, but now I'm back in the boomingest town of them all and accordingly, prices have boomed as well! Unfortunately I don't have any claims on rich iron ore deposits or deep wells of natural gas, but jolly good show for those people who do.

Even a bag of ice is more expensive in Perth... dear, I've made a pun in poor taste. Oh well, such is life.

So moving on, I headed for home stopping by the petrol station on the way where prices are at least 30 cents a litre more expensive that three years ago and called in to pick up a pizza that would have cost me half the price in 2001.

At home the letterbox was cheerfully chockers with bills, including my private health insurance which has risen well beyond the much touted 30% rebate you introduced some years ago John. Indeed, exponentially the cost of running a household really has boomed over the past decade.

So, dear John, I know you have a lot on your parliamentary plate right now, but if you could see your way clear to point a bit of this boom in my direction, It'd be much appreciated. Even if you could help me pay off the lay-by on the nannas and hurry up with that baby bonus cheque, it would certainly help.

Thanks John and good luck with the election. If I was you I'd be pocketing a bit of boom and heading down to your local strip club to slide a few rock lobsters into willing g-strings - just don't take Lexie, he'll want to join in.

Best regards
John

Walk on the wild side...

Apologies to Lou Reed...

Benny came from Perth, m.d.m.a
Went to rehab in the u.s.a.
Plucked his eyebrows on the way
Shaved his chest and then he was released
He says, hey babe, I run away from the booze guys
Said, hey man, run away from the booze guys

Danny came from out in Girawheen
In the backroom he was everybody's dream
But he always lost his head
A taxi driver's blood was shed
He says, hey babe, get me off this assault charge
Said, hey babe, get me off this assault charge
And the toasters go Boo, boo, boo, etc

Little Chick never once gave it away
All the umps were happy to pay and pay
A hustle here and a finger there
The Seven Seas is the place where they said
Hey babe, you're a bit on the fried side
I said hey Chicky, you're a bit on the fried side

Sugar plum Joshy came and hit some beaks
Lookin for bird flesh and a face to beat
Went to the Cuzzy bro
You should have seen him go go go
They said, hey Benny, take a look at a real side
I said, hey Cuzzy, take a look at a real side
All right, huh

Blackie is just speeding away
Thought he was james dean on the day
Then he had to crash the pack
Danny's prescription would have helped that whack
He said, hey Danny, watch out for your blind side
I said, hey honey, watch out for your blind side
And the e-girls say....

Fremantle's new Premier coaching panel

Word on the street is that Victorian Premier Steve Bracks and his Deputy John Thwaites have stepped down from the top job to form the nucleus of a new 'uber-coaching panel' at Fremantle.The pair are said to be loading the station wagon for the trip across the Nullarbor as we speak, with Thwaitsy just securing the last of the occy straps around the surf ski.

Sources report that a third party will be travelling with the Premiership pair, a bloke named Kevin who reportedly spent much of this morning purchasing supplies from Liquorland Moonee Ponds.

In a statement released today, Mr Bracks said:

"We've always loved a bit of a surf and a paddle and quite frankly Perth beaches shit all over that effluent riddled pond we call Port Phillip Bay. Besides, Harty has promised us a top deal on all our new whitegoods and 50 per cent off all electrical products.

"We also see some synergy between the role we played in Victoria and the future of the Fremantle Football Club. If you imagine West Coast as the smug, arrogant, self assured Kennett government, we're that other mob that sneaks up behind and kicks their arses all the way to footballing obscurity."

Who is Ken Thomas

Hi folks

Apologies for my lack of correspondence and I hope I still have some return visitors who haven't been put off by re-reading my footy tipping from some weeks ago.

One of the main reasons I've been slack is that I've been helping a mate move his gear into a new beachside pad in Noosa. He retired a few weeks back and what with his salsa dancing, topiary and tai chi, he hasn't had time to blink.

Anyway, Ken is now safely ensconsed and enjoying a lifestyle replete with cable knit sweaters, white linen slacks and long walks on the beach. He is even considering growing a mo.

More about Ken Thomas, the man, the legend, here

Round 11 AFL tipping guide

Bombers v Meth abusers: Phone Dome
The Weagles should win this, especially if their interstate connections come through with the good stuff before half time, but expect 'high shorts' Lloyd to have an inspired night out and Hirdy to walk on water to bring them home. In other words, I hope the Dons win cause I hate the yellow and blue pricks!
Look out for: Taxi drivers removing their arials.
Result: Eagles to score heavily, but Bombers to win by 9 points.

Hawks v Sidderknee: MCG
The Hawks have been playing like they've been into the West Coast medicine cabinet, but all good things must come to an end and I predict our feathered friends will once again start handballing themselves out of the game.
Look out for: The freakish 'I'm your Buddy' Franklin.
Result: A desperate Sidders by 13 points.

Lions v The Doggies: Gabba Dabba Doo
Fucked if I know what the Lions are doing from one game to the next and a draw against the Tiges isn't worth writing home to your Momma about. But Leigh Matthews is a dirty bastard and he also likes palm trees, sand and particularly loud Hawain shirts (yeah, never could spell it right). Despite the return of Aker to his home town and the Dog's good form, Leigh won't drop this one.
Look out for: Browny to pull Aker's jocks out through his throat.
Result: Lions by 3 points.

Caaaarlton v Port Boganland: Phone Dome
Couldn't give a fuck quite frankly, but I'd like to see Fevola and Chad Kornes knock each other out in a clash of large heads. And die.
Look out for: The bar.
Result: The Blues by 11 points.

Crows v the Cats: Adelaide
Those pussies are all juiced up and travelling nicely, led by the stinky blood nut Ling who sticks to his opponents like love juice to a blanket. But a bit like the Hawks, time is nigh for this outfit of pretenders to implode and limp sadly to another season of obscurity. Besides, if the Crows lose at home in front of a crowd sporting haircuts that make Fat Tony's wig look positively glam, then no one is getting out of there alive.
Look out for: Piggy Ling's sexy ginger freckle bursting out of his white shorts.
Result: Crows by 13 points.

Saints v Roos: Phone Dome
All I want to see out of this game is the big 'G' train, 'Gold' - as in neck-less - do his nut and start pulling some hair. Expect Kosi to cop another concussion. Ree-volt to cement his place as Mr Albino 2007 and the Roos to come home in a game that will have all the highlights of a Paris in Jail documentary.
Look out for: The salt and pepper squid in the snack bar on level 4.
Result: Ummmm, Roos by 9 points.

The Mighty Dockers v the toothless Tiges: Subiaco
If by game's end big 211cm Aaron Sandilands isn't hunkered down in the centre square at Subiaco roasting the flesh of tiger carcasses over a Samoan barbecue pit, then it really is all over for the Dockers. Big Pav has been practicing his kicking all week and Taz has finally washed off the acrid stench of the Collingwood faithful after last week's debacle, now it's time to have some fun - just don't stray too close to Sandi's mouth!
Look out for: The angry giant wearing purple - you might get trod on.
Result: Freo by 54 points.

Demons v Collingwood: MCG
Well, the young Dees put on a splendid show last week in notching up their first win of the season, however, quite frankly we don't give a flying fuck. The high country has a glorious dusting of snow, the Rangie is chockers with Chardy and the ski season is about to kick off what ho! So it's toodles for Melbourne and time for Darth Vadar Malthouse to once again whip out his light sabre and give them a jolly good thrashing.
Look out for: Lots of tweed disappearing through the turnstiles at half time.
Result: Collingwood by 23 points.

Farmer incident - take note West Coast

A number of people have asked me why I haven't posted anything about the Jeff Farmer incident from last weekend where he is alleged to have punched a nightclub bouncer in the face. There have been suggestions that I may have turned the other cheek on this one due to my passion for the Fremantle Football Club.

Well, to set the record straight, my lack of correspondence is simply due to the fact that I have bigger fish to fry right now. Indeed, my third child is due to arrive into this world on Wednesday and preparing for his early arrival has taken up a fair bit of time... blogging is a long way down this list right now.

But to set the record straight, I believe that the Fremantle Football Club's actions in suspending Farmer until round 13 was the correct decision. Unlike that other mob up the road, the club imposed its penalty swiftly and without excuse, ultimately to the detriment of season 2007, but for the benefit of the club's long-term morale and integrity.

While the West Coast rots from the head down in a mire of excuse ridden denials and arrogance in its 'win at all cost' approach to the game, Fremantle has shown itself to be a strong, decisive club that isn't prepared to let its players ride rough shod over the team as a whole.

Farmer was told not to go to that club and he broke the rules, regardless of what transpires in court today. Worsfold, Gooding and Nisbett could learn a lesson in discipline and people management from this episode.

Selwood slut jibe costs Des six

I've seen it all now in the West Coast shame file.

First we had Michael 'Charlie' Gardiner... enough said.

Then came a bare chested Benny Cousins running away from his abandoned vehicle, falling asleep legless in a Melbourne street, then inevitably packing his bags for an Arizona rehab clinic - paid for by the West Coast Eagles Football Club.

Not to be outdone, enter Daniel Kerr as he tried to spear a cab driver with his own car arial after snapping it off in some kind of monkey-boy hallucinogenic rage. Then two weeks later he's revealed on tape as having purchased Special K from a drug dealer with a penchant for full forward's gloves. Assault charges in 2006, two.

Don't forget Flatline Fletcher's near death experience in the US! One too many middies of VB we're led to believe...

And taking the spotlight off that nasty drug situation onto more salubrious issues, we have Adam Selwood allegedly telling Fremantle player Des Headland that his daughter - SIX YEAR OLD DAUGHTER - is a slut.

Like any good father would, Des allegedly took a swing at Selwood and threatened to kill him if he ever said it again. That alleged strike - which umpires now contest happened twice - looks set to put Des out of the game for up to six weeks.

To rub salt into what is developing into a horrible festering wound, Des also got fined $800 for wrestling Selwood. Apparently Selwood just lay there and let himself be wrestled because he hasn't been fined at all.

I hear that Fremantle will contest the charge and it would appear that Des is intent on telling the world exactly what Selwood said that made him want to cave his skull in. I say the club should back him all the way and if his charges aren't reduced significantly, or dropped altogether, further action should be taken.

Quite frankly, while I have no qualms about a good sledge, to tell a father that his six-year-old girl is engaged in frequent sexual acts is a disgrace - far worse that punching a player in the testicles, but there's another low act that Danny Kerr can tell you all about.

If what Selwood reportedly said is indeed the case, he should be disgusted with himself. But then again, it was probably a club tactic all along and he and his teammates are no doubt chuckling about the result right now nad wishing themselves a "fucking good season".

I heart the Pixies

Now, where were we? The Pixies - STILL the greatest alternative rock band in the world and they proved it last Thursday at Blackjack 2007.

The last time I saw them was in 1989 and the crowd was simply going ballistic. This time around it was like gathering at a reunion - or going to church - to spend just over an hour as witness to something that is so good it's almost dangerous.

Excuse the puns, but there is no doubt that some kind of weird 'Black' Francis magic was involved in this tour - a Deal with the devil himself - reincarnating a maniacal shaven headed Francis and Santiago, an ageing magician on the skins and the bad-grandma of rock Kim Deal a smoking incindiary on the bass.

There was plenty of jumping, screaming and cackling from the crowd, but the big difference between this gig and the last one 18 years ago was that almost everyone was singing along with the lyrics - a group prayer, one last chance to dip our collective toes into the maelstrom of demonic, fret bending, screeching, eyeball gouging madness that changed the way we thought about music forever.

And despite the sheer joy of watching it all unfold, for me there was an underlying sadness - like bringing a favourite relative out from cryogenic suspension for one last party that you know is going to end all too soon and is unlikely to ever happen again.

Watching Kim Deal mouthing the lyrics, 'I.... Love... You', you just knew it was a heartfelt thank you and farewell - and the love flowed back onto that poorly lit stage in the Claremont showgrounds in abundance.