Mick Neven Comedian

The Beginners Guide to Melbourne Cup Punting

2011-10-30T04:07:00.000-07:00

So you’ve decided to have a bet on the Cup. Bloody good on yer cobber. You’d be a mug not to. After all it’s our national race and a bloke or a sheila’d be a fair dinkum drongo not to have a crack. Probably 95% per cent of the population only have one bet each year, and that’s on Cup Day.

Problem is, you’re probably having a tough time picking the winner. Don’t sweat. Even serious punters have trouble picking the winner of the Cup. That’s cos it’s a bloody tough race to bet on. You’d be better off trying to pick an actual celebrity on Celebrity Apprentice. For a start, there are 24 horses in the race. That’s a big field. They’ve all had different lead ups, they’re carrying different weights and they come to Flemington from all over the world. Some of those bloody foreign raiders haven’t even raced here yet. Seriously, how can you get a form line from a horse that hasn’t even raced here yet?

But don’t worry. Here are a few handy tips to help you pick the winner.

Colors.

Every jockey wears different colours, so just pick your favourite. My footy team is red and black, so ‘Older Than Time’ stands out. If you like red and white – ‘Jukebox Jury’, or green and purple means get on ‘Hawk Island’. And nothing upsets a serious punter more than hearing someone say, ‘well my first car was blue, so I just bet on the blue horse and he won’.

Numbers.

Born on the 20th? Bet on ‘Shamrocker’. Got 4 kids? Bet on ‘Drunken Sailor’. Is you favourite number 36? Well there’s only 24 horses in the race, but 3 plus 6 equals 9, so get on ‘Lucas Cranach’. Add up all the numbers in your birthdate, phone number, street address and tax file number, then break them down til you get a number that’s 24 or less and go for it.

Names.

Read the form and pick the name that stands out. Does ‘The Verminator’ remind you of ‘the Sherminator’ from American Pie? Then go for it.

Omen Betting

Keep an eye out for omens that might help you. If you check the mail on Cup Eve and get called up for Jury Duty…then ‘Jukebox Jury’ could be your horse. In 2000 I was watching a news story about the Cup. One of the horses in that story was in stable 36. 36 was my footy number. Big omen, so I bet on that horse. His name was ‘Brew’ and he won at 25-1. That’s how omen betting works.

Hot Tips.

Do you know a keen punter? Someone who follows the horses right through the whole year and not just in the Spring? Ask them. They’ll probably tell that it’s a tough race to pick, and then they’ll give you 5 to 7 horses and suggest you put them in a box-trifecta at 50%. If you don’t know what that means, don’t clog up the line in the TAB trying to find out. Just pick the horse with your favourite colour.

The Lotto.

Put all the numbers in a hat and draw one out. Back that horse to win. Put the number back in and draw a second number. Back that horse each way. Now put that number back and draw 3 numbers. Back those horses in a box trifecta. This has been my preferred option for the last couple of years, since my daughter was old enough to pull numbers out of a hat. It’s a great way to get the family involved.

If you know any other sure-fire methods of picking the winner, I’m all ears.

Just remember this – if you do get the winner, don’t tell people you fluked it. Tell them you studied the form, gave consideration to the merits of each individual horse, trainer and jockey, and arrived at a logical conclusion…and here’s the winning ticket to prove it.

If you don’t get the winner it doesn’t matter. By maintaining a great Aussie tradition of having a punt on the Cup…you’re already a winner.

Ps – gamble responsibly and get help if gambling is a problem in your life.

Give It A Rest-Uary

2011-10-09T20:50:00.000-07:00

So it’s Oc-sober. People can get on board for a month of no drinking to raise money for Life Education Australia. They do alcohol and drug education for Aussie kids so good on them.

Please excuse me while I crack a beer and decide not to get involved. Seriously, was Feb-Fast not enough? Was Dry-July not enough? Do we really need another alcohol targeted fund-raising and awareness raising initiative?

‘But it’s to educate the kids about the dangers of drugs and binge drinking’, is what people say. Give it a rest. Parents should educate their own kids and if you can read a paper you can read all about the dangers of binge drinking at least once a week when some new study is published.

And why should we have to give something up to raise awareness? The vast majority of Australians enjoy responsibly anyway. They don’t need to have a month off. And why do we have to make sacrifices to raise money and awareness of ‘good causes’?

Someone should come up with a fundraising and awareness raising initiative where we can actually have a good time for a month. Instead of giving something up, we should be able to do more of what we love.

Drunk-tober – that’s a whole month where every time you have a drink you donate a set amount to raise awareness that having a drink with your mates is good fun. Drink 10 beers on a Friday night after work and $10 goes towards the cause. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. A sober night during Drunk-tober will only cost you $20, free if you’re the designated driver.

Choc-tober – that’s a whole month of eating chocolate to raise awareness that too much chocolate probably isn’t good for you, but bugger it, I’ll have a couple more squares just cos it’s for a good cause.

Slow-vember – a month of taking it easy. No exercise, no dieting, no rushing around anywhere. Late for work? Don’t worry, you’re doing Slow-vember and raising money and awareness to educate people that taking it easy is good for your health.

Cock-tober – a man focused month of sex to raise money for the fight against testicular cancer and to raise awareness of depression. That means every time a man has sex during Cock-tober he throws in $10. It’s a great ice-breaker for single guys in bars and something to look forward to for married guys. After a month of Cock-tober, I can tell you I’d be less depressed.

Fan-uary – that’s the woman’s answer to Cock-tober. Every time a woman has an orgasm during Fan-uary, that’s $10 towards finding a cure for Ovarian cancer and raising awareness of depression. Feel free to ask for help with those orgasms or just enjoy them by yourself. Whatever, it’s your month and no-ones asking you to give anything up.

After the fun of Cock-tober and Fan-uary, just to be safe we’ll probably need May-ds Test, followed up with Herpes awareness month – Sore-gust.

Got any more ideas? We sure could use them…

Did You Hear the One About...

2011-05-31T03:29:00.000-07:00

Stand-Up Comedy’s a funny thing…but there’s nothing funny about stealing another comedian’s jokes. Unless you do it on national television and it spawns hilarious Twitter hashtags like #JordanParisQuotes and #Jordangate. But seriously, there’s nothing funny about stealing another comedian’s jokes. Unless it leads to me scrolling through my Facebook news feed pissing myself laughing. But even then it’s not funny.

The Jordan Paris story is right here just in case you haven’t checked it out.

Now something that happens a lot is comedians make jokes about the same subjects. Airplane travel, wives, husbands, kids, jobs, the killing of Osama Bin Laden and the list goes on. But those jokes are never almost word for word identical. Every comedian approaches things in their own unique way, so while the subject is the same, the journey and the destination are always a little different. But you’d have to be one hell of a believer in divine synchronicity to suggest that someone isn’t ripping someone off in this instance.

Now I did read some comments suggesting that there’s no difference between covering a famous song, and ‘covering’ someone’s joke. Hilarious! Unless they were being serious.

Music has a great tradition of covering other people’s songs. Pearl Jam sing covers at their concerts. Real musicians sing covers at pubs to pay the bills while they record their own albums. Bands like ‘Babba’ and ‘High Voltage’ tour the cover circuit making more than respectable livings as cover bands. But when the lead singer of ‘High Voltage’ gets on stage at the Village Green Hotel and belts out ‘Highway to Hell’, no one on the dance floor is assuming it’s his material. They just listen, bang their heads and think, ‘yeah, he’s doing a good job of this one!’

In Stand-Up Comedy, there’s no tradition of ‘covering’ other people’s jokes. When a comedian steps onto the stage, there’s an assumption that the comedian is doing original material. The audience automatically believes that the joke they’re listening to is coming from the source. Joke stealers are cashing in on this assumption. People laugh and think, wow, that guy is so funny. But he’s not. He’s a fraud and there’s nothing funny about stealing someone’s jokes.

In Stand-Up Comedy, you’re judged on your material and your delivery and whether on not you’ve made the people sitting in front of you laugh. So most of us sweat and agonise over every word. When I write a joke, it takes days and weeks and months to get it right. If I come up with an idea, I’ll try it at an open mic night, just to see if it’s got legs.

Then I’ll re-write it and try it again somewhere else. Then if it gets a good laugh, I’ll work it into my set and do it at some paid gigs. If it keeps getting a good laugh, I’ll keep working on it, massaging a word here, a word there, a different inflection or emotion in the delivery.

Sometimes, I’ll be on stage, in the middle of the joke and a whole new punchline will pop into my head and the joke suddenly gains another 30 seconds, maybe even a whole minute. Now it’s no longer a joke, it’s a real routine. And I’ve only been working on it for 6 months. Maybe another comedian will suggest a new line or two, or even just a subtle tweak. Now the joke is even better. After more than 6 months work, it’s still a work in progress. 12 months later, 2 years later, I’m still working on that joke, trying to make it even better.

And maybe on a good night, when I’ve had a really good spot, when I can say to myself, ‘dude, you really smashed it tonight’, someone from the audience might comment that they thought it was a hilarious joke. That’s when I think, ‘well it’s definitely starting to get there’.

To think that someone could steal that joke and perform it onstage in front of a national television audience…well there’s definitely nothing funny about that.

I lifted a great comment from one of the news sites, so I’ll give the last word to Comedian Mikey Mileos.

“essentially joke thieves are not just stealing other comedians ideas. They’re also stealing the joy comedians get from creating and performing their work”.

Who Are These People?

2011-05-16T17:09:00.000-07:00

The producers of ‘Dancing with the Stars’ have some questions to answer. What is the criteria for being a ‘Star’? Which stars were approached and chose not to be involved? How many people knocked back the opportunity before they finally rang Brynne Edelsten’s publicist and said ‘yes she can be on the show’. They need to open the books on the selection process so the Australian public can understand who Nick Bracks is, and why he’s on television. I’m sure there are reasons, but until a whistleblower releases some classified files to Wikileaks, we can only guess at how these things happen.

First of all, it’s the 11th season of DWTS and Australia is a small country. We only have so many actual stars to go round. Not only that, a lot of our stars are locked into the other 2 commercial stations, so they can’t appear on Channel 7. After every season it gets harder and harder to find bona fide stars, hence the appearance of Alex Fevola and Tamara Jaber in series 10. Surely that was a sign.

Then there are the busy schedules that real Stars have. Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett are no doubt too busy for the hours of practice. Ditto Johanna Griggs, Bruce McAvaney, Kochie, Penbo, anyone who currently plays elite level sport and Warwick Capper.

The producers would also have a set of criteria. There needs to be this many guys and this many girls. There needs to be a mix of young people and old people. They’re looking for the right combination of eye candy and characters. They can’t go sport heavy, or TV heavy. I’m sure there is a formula for ratings success that means once a particular spot is filled, you can’t have another one of those people. When Jan Stephenson signed on, any other mature eye-candy, Cougar’s you’d probably have a crack at, retired champions just have to wait until Series 12.

Surely though, the most important criteria for picking a cast on DWTS is that they have done something. It doesn’t matter that we’ve never heard of them. What matters is that when they’re introduced for the Cha Cha, the audience can then say, ‘oh wow, world chess champion, that’s something’. Or ‘goodness me, a blind adventurer, he’s having a crack’. There’s no doubt that some of the cast are a little bit lacking in the ‘done something’ category.

So let’s take a closer look. If they’re stars, they’re in. If they’re not stars, who should they be replaced with.

Manu Feildel – Judge from My Kitchen Rules.

Sure he’s a star. He’s done 2 seasons on My Kitchen Rules, a ratings smash. He’s French, he’s in.

Samantha Armytage – Newsreader, Weekend Sunrise Presenter.

She’s a star and she ticks a lot of boxes. Eye Candy, personality, thinking mans crumpet. I hope she wins.

Mark Occhilupo – former World Surfing Champ.

He’s a star. Even though he dances like he’s at Billy’s Beach House and looks like he’d be more comfortable with a stubby in one hand, he’s definitely earned his stripes.

Jan Stephenson – Golfing Champion.

She’s a star. She won 3 majors and posed nude back in her hey-day. Ticks the very important older eye-candy box.

Nathan Bracken – retired Aussie cricketer.

Even though he’s already gone, he’s a star. Won a World Cup and was the number 1 ranked 1 Day bowler in the world.

Dan Ewing – Home and Away Actor.

Not a star. He does tick the young male eye-candy box and the all important cross promotion box, but you don’t count as a fair dinkum star unless you’ve done at least a few flamin years on Home and Away mate.

Replace him with Ray Meagher. A Gold Logie can’t be wrong.

Damien Leith – Idol Winner and Punch columnist.

Not a star. To paraphrase comedian Chis Franklin, he won a Karaoke contest. His latest album is Roy – A tribute to Roy Oribison. Just in time for Mother’s Day. Enough said.

Replace him with Dave Gleeson from the Screaming Jets, Bernard Fanning from Powderfinger or Kram from Spiderbait.

Hayley Bracken – wife of Nathan.

Not a star. Said last night she wants Australia to see another side of her. No you mean ‘a’ side.

Replace her with Lee Furlong. Did something first, then became a WAG.

Lara Bingle – Model.

Not a star. And probably doesn’t even tick the eye-candy box because people are sick of her.

Replace her with Kate Ellis. Definite eye-candy and has done a lot. But is there a male dance partner tall enough?

Brynne Edelstenn – Married a rich Doctor. Gets her puppies out at awards nights.

Not a star. Being married to a rich husband buys you a great publicist though. One of her moves was described as ‘looking like a bedazzled sack of potatoes’. Greatest judge comment ever.

Replace her with Dame Edna. A real woman.

Nick Bracks – Son of a Premier.

Not a star. Crashed his car while drink driving.

Replace him with Chopper Read. If criminal convictions are no barrier, get someone that people have heard of.

Addicted to Fundraising

2010-10-29T18:29:00.000-07:00

I’m lucky that only 2 of my work colleagues have school age children attending a Public School. So only about 4 times a year will they accost me at my desk with boxes of Freddo Frogs and other assorted chocolates. And only 4 times a year will I have to tell them to piss off because I’m not buying.

If the money was for a school camp, I’d buy the chocolates. If it was to fund the classroom sponsoring a Child in Africa, I’d buy the chocolates. If it was so the kids could purchase a Hamster to learn important lessons about life and death, I’d buy. But today’s fundraising choccies aren’t for purchasing classroom extras. Nowadays, the money is used for classroom essentials and vital maintenance. Schools are selling chocolates to cover the holes in their budgets, and that is wrong. To me, nothing highlights State Government failure quite like fundraising chocolates. So I don’t buy.

Instead I find out what State Electorate my colleagues live in. Then I write an email to their local member, asking why the schools need to fundraise when they should already have all the money they need. Then I get back to work and try to ignore the sugar cravings that come on during the mid-afternoon slump. Cos let’s be honest, who needs more chocolate?

I have the same problem with The Royal Children’s Hospital Good Friday Appeal. Why should the Children’s Hospital be fundraising? That place should be awash with cash. The public toilets in the Royal Children’s Hospital should have gold plated fittings and the toilet paper should be rolls of $50 notes. When I walk into the Royal Children’s Hospital, I want to see a Van Gogh in the foyer, next to a Rembrandt, so I know they’ve got more money than they need. Instead, I’ll have to saddle up for next year’s Run For the Kids so they can buy vital life-saving equipment. Good on you, everyone who donates money and time. Shame on you State Government that it needs to happen.

Back to the chocolates. Not only do they represent a Government failure, I’m starting to think they represent a failure by the schools as well. Let’s be honest, who needs more chocolate? Obesity, Type 2 diabetes, Heart disease, ADHD, sedentary lifestyles, the list goes on. More chocolate is good for none of that. If the fundraising has to be done, let’s get creative.

How about fundraising Stand-Up Comedy nights? 400 parents at $20 a head equals a much better result than shifting a few boxes of chocolates. The benefits of laughter are well documented. There’s not a parent anywhere in the country who couldn’t do with a good laugh, not to mention the teachers. It means more work for comedians too, so everybody wins.

Let’s take it further. How about fundraising gambling? Every year Aussies tip Billions into the pokies, the TAB’s and the Casinos. Let the schools take it over. Gambling games are very instructive in teaching kids about mathematics. Adding, subtracting, probability. And imagine what the money could do for your average State School. Why use Hamsters to teach kids about life and death when an African Elephant or Galapagos Turtle could do the job? Don’t just teach the kids about astronomy and the planets with a school camp to the National Observatory; put them on Virgin Galactic and send them into orbit. That’s learning!

Let’s take it further. What about fundraising drugs? It’s another Billion dollar industry and it’s in the hands of Bikie Gangs and Multi-National Syndicates. They’re certainly not spending their ill gotten gains on better learning outcomes. The War On Drugs has been a failure so let’s change tack. Let’s take drugs away from the Gangs and the Cartels and give them to the schools. The agriculture plots and sports ovals could be turned over to marijuana, poppies and coca cultivation. The chemistry lab has all the necessary equipment. They just need access to the right pre-cursor chemicals. After that, it’s just a matter of ensuring the teachers are supervising the class effectively. That’s hands on learning for the kids involving science, mathematics, accounting and more.

Suddenly our schools would be swimming in money. Teachers could check the rolls with gold-plated astronaut pens. The kids could pile into Stretch Hummers for their school excursions. Gail Kelly could quit Westpac and chase a job as School Principal for the salary and bonuses. Best of all, at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, when my work colleagues show up with their fundraising cocaine, I’m buying!

Note – the author of this article has never used Cocaine. He snorted a line once, but didn’t inhale.

Again with the Grand Final

2010-09-26T23:42:00.001-07:00

AFL Grand Final Day is a great day. For supporters of the two teams that make it to the big one, there’s nothing like the week of expectation and edge of the seat excitement. The teams are named, the Grand Final parade rolls through Melbourne, there’s one more sleepless night…then the siren sounds and it’s on!

And even if your team spent the season battling for the wooden spoon, AFL Grand Final Day is still a great day. It’s your last week of talking footy. You weigh up the odds, look at the form and you have to make one vital decision. Whose Grand Final Party are you going to attend? Because for any man who calls himself a footy fan, it’s unthinkable that you’d miss the game, or watch it by yourself at home.

It’s far too important a day to just let it go to waste. Cos here’s the thing; Grand Final Day is a leave pass, one glorious day when all men can put aside any concerns about their relationship, and their marital or parental responsibilities.

On Grand Final Day, in response to any query from their partner, all a man needs to say is, ‘but babe, it’s Grand Final Day’.

‘I was hoping you might mow the lawn today’.
‘But babe, it’s Grand Final Day’.

‘I thought you were taking your daughter to Kinder ballet today’
‘Aww come on babe, it’s Grand Final Day’.

‘Should you be drinking beer at 9:30 in the morning?’
‘But babe, it’s Grand Final Day’.

‘It looks like there’s 5 kilos of Scotch Fillet in the Fridge’.
‘Where?’
‘Right there next to the whole lamb! Are you having a party?’
‘A few of the boys are coming over, it’s Grand Final Day dontchaknow’.

‘You didn’t get home til 3am last nite’.
‘Really’.
‘You spewed in the washing basket’.
‘C’mon babe, it was Grand Final Day’.

Now something amazing has happened. For the third time in 114 years, there’s a drawn Grand Final. In the AFL, that means no extra time, no penalty shoot out, no golden point. In the AFL, that means we do it all again next week.

The two teams go through the recovery and training process one more time. The match committees select their teams one more time. The fans queue for tickets and paint their faces one more time.

And one more time, when my wife says, ‘Why are you cracking a beer? I thought you were taking our daughter to ballet and mowing the lawn today’

‘But babe, it’s Grand Final Day…again’. Here’s hoping for another draw.

Oprah's Authentic Aussie Experience

2010-09-19T23:04:00.000-07:00

Oprah I can’t believe you’re coming Down Under! I heard the news and started jumping up and down on my couch with excitement. It’s the best promotion for Brand Australia since they came up with 10 Pound Poms back in the 1940’s. It’s already worth every tax dollar spent and you haven’t started packing yet. When your sideshow hits town in December to broadcast live from the steps of the Sydney Opera House, it’ll be hard to hear the cricket over the noise of cash registers ringing up shiny American dollars.

I must admit however, that I’m a little worried Oprah. Will you really get an authentic Australian experience? I’m sure you’ll climb the harbour bridge, snorkel the barrier reef, take a respectful look at Uluru (without the climbing), see the Penguins and drive the Great Ocean road, but that’s the touristy stuff. It’s not the authentic Australian experience. To get a proper taste of Aussie, you’ll need to do a few other things.

Go to the Melbourne Cup.

It’s the race that stops the Nation, so how can anyone claim to have experienced Australia if they haven’t walked through the gates at Flemington on that magnificent first Tuesday in November. Now Oprah, I know you’re not due til December, but believe me, it’s worth coming early for.

And here’s a hot tip, stay out of the Bird Cage and the fancy marquees. Get out on the lawn with the real people. You can join the 15 minute line up to get a drink. Then join the 15 minute line up to put a bet on. Then join the 15 minute line up to get some hot chips. Then join the 15 minute line up to go to the toilet.

But when the winner kicks clear at the 300 and 100 000 people start screaming as it surges past the finish line, there’s nothing like it in the world. If you’re lucky, then you can join the line up to collect your winnings. Here’s another thing about Cup Day Oprah; if you don’t walk home barefoot carrying your shoes you haven’t tried hard enough.

Get your Photo taken while posing in front of something Big.

There’s no doubt Oprah, that you are big. But you are not bigger than the Big Pineapple, or the Big Merino, the Big Banana, the Big Prawn, the Big Murray Cod, the Big Mud Crab or the Big Oyster. Or any of the other Big Attractions you’ll find in towns all over the country.

Find somewhere that’s the home of something big and take the photo. You’ll get extra points if you can climb onto or into the something big.

Go to a Backyard Barbie.

Now Oprah I’m sure that any amount of your fans will be inviting you around for a fair dinkum Aussie barbie. Take someone up on the offer. Here are a few handy hints for you.

Bring light beer or cask wine, stick it in the fridge and drink heavies and bottled wine all day. That’s how we roll over here. You don’t need a plate if you don’t want one. Chuck a snag in a piece of bread with a bit of sauce. That’ll do.

Join in the backyard cricket, but if they wanna play tipsy run, pull rank. You’re Oprah. You don’t have to run if you don’t want to. 6 is definitely out but send one of the kids to fetch the ball.

Later on, you’ll be arm in arm with a total stranger, singing ‘Khe Sahn’ into a stubby. Don’t worry that you don’t know the words. Even Barnsey doesn’t know the words.

Go to the Boxing Day Cricket.

Like the Melbourne Cup, this is something you just have to do Oprah. Sit right up the back of the Great Southern Stand and take it all in. Don’t worry that you don’t know a thing about cricket. That’s not the point.

You’ll be able to join in some traditional Aussie folk songs, like ‘Aussie Aussie Aussie…Oi Oi Oi’, ‘You’re Going Home in the Back of a Divvy Van’ and the first verse only of ‘Waltzing Matilda’. I reckon you’ll pick up the words pretty quickly. Don’t worry about the 2nd, 3rd or 4th verses of Waltzing Matilda. No one else does.

You can try a Four ‘n Twenty Pie and drink warm Mid-Strength all day. Of course if you want to get really pissed, inject a watermelon with vodka, eat the melon and wear the skin like a hat. Then you’ll be the coolest person at the ‘G’.

After the cricket, kick on. Go to a pub, drink more beer and when you catch someone looking at you, ask them what they’re looking at. But do it with just one word, like this, ‘wothaffhukkayalookinatcarnt?’

Have a Sickie.

I know you’ll be real busy while you’re here Oprah, so you’ll earn yourself a day off. Just ring up, tell someone you reckon you’ve picked up a bit of gastro or a migraine, and you’ve got the day to yourself. Go to the beach. Or the pub. Remember not to post any Facebook pics of you having a good time. You’re supposed to be sick. But if you do start to feel actually sick while you’re out here, you have to show up to work and struggle through. Here in Aussie, we don’t like to waste our sickies.

Dress like an Aussie.

There’s really no official Aussie Dress code. Wear whatever you want, but on your feet you’ll need a pair of double pluggers. Get em from K-Mart for about $6 a pair. They’re perfect for the cricket, backyard barbies and posing in front of anything big. Just don’t try to run in them.

Most importantly, don’t wear socks with sandals or a bum-bag/fanny pack, don’t bring Tom Cruise and we’ll see you in December.

How to Vote in the Electorate of Melbourne

2010-08-22T19:00:00.001-07:00

I don't mind admitting, I was excited when I rocked up to the polling booth. I was voting in Melbourne and Greens candidate Adam Bandt was favorite to win with the bookies. There was no incumbent, this wasn't a safe liberal or labour seat. No matter who I voted for, I felt like my vote could really make a difference.

I got my first How To Vote card from the kindly old Democrat volunteer and couldn't help but notice they'd given their 3rd preference to the candidate from the Australian Sex Party. Way to go Democrats. I had no idea you guys were into that kind of Party!

My next HTVC came from the Family First volunteer. Libs second, ALP third, no surprises there, but further down, Australian Sex Party 6th, Greens 7th! What? Turns out, Family First hate the Greens so much, they'd rather you vote for the Australian Sex Party. Not only that, they put the Secular Party ahead of the Greens as well.

Some young go getter from the Libs saw me taking HTVC's and took some real action to rush in to hand me theirs. Labour last, then Greens, then the Sex Party. Fair enough, they'd rather get in bed with the Sex Party than Labour.

Then some Union Heavy gave me a Labour HTVC and it turns out Labour want the Sex Party preferenced third! Who the hell are the Sex Party? I asked the guy behind me to mind my spot and went looking for the Sex Party volunteer.

'Is anyone here from the Australian Sex Party', I yelled out. The old guy from the Democrats pointed me in the right direction. 'She's down there'. I looked and suddenly a chorus of angels burst into song. There she was, young, fit, beautiful. A picture of womanly virtue. She smiled as I walked towards her, and even though I was starting to drool, she handed me her HTVC and said, 'Vote one for the Australian Sex Party'. In my stunned condition I couldn't make words, no I nodded, said Uh-Huh and walked back to my place in line.

Yes to Same Sex Marriage. Yes to a Woman's Right to Decide. Decriminalisation of Personal Drug Use. Royal Commission into Child Sex Abuse in the Churches. Yes to X-Rated Non-Violent Erotica. All worthy policy platforms that I knew nothing about. These guys need some direct action on getting a good PR person on board. They need to get the message out there. Hot volunteers is a good start, but they need more.

So I voted, I did my civic duty and walked out. On the way the Sex Party Goddess caught my eye and winked. I wish I'd showered before I voted.

The Power of Youtube

2010-08-16T16:35:00.000-07:00

Here's a story as told to me by a fella that I work with.

One night while youtubing with his flatmates, another flatmate walked in and made a comment along the lines of, 'Are you guys youtubing? That is such a waste of time!'

The fella that I work with then replied, 'No it's not. Everything that's ever happened since cameras were invented is right here on youtube'.

The youtube sceptic then laid down the challenge. 'Alright then...show me a video of a Cow eating a Chicken'.

No problem. It's right HERE!

Now that is some fucked up shit!

Beanz Meanz Snap

2010-07-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

Life can be hectic. When you’re trying to have a career, a family, a social life, even a mild level of physical fitness and well being, it’s hard to squeeze it all in. If you can find a shortcut, or anything that saves a little bit of time, it’s a blessing.

There are some wonderful time saving inventions. The calculator. The Automatic Washing Machine. The Dishwasher. The Jumbo Jet. Sliced Bread. Instant Coffee. The Digital Camera. Even the Ab Circle Pro. They’ve all enriched our lives and given us more of that most precious commodity, time.

Now we can add to the list, Heinz Snap Pot Baked Beans. Make no mistake, this is a revolution. Since 1901, Heinz have been serving beans in cans, wasting vital minutes in opening, heating and serving time. The cost of this lost time is impossible to calculate. How many kids have sat un-noticed and un-loved while Mum or Dad wrestled with a can opener in the kitchen? Remember when Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon? Remember the Dismissal? What about when the Berlin Wall came down? Or did you miss all that because you had a pot of Baked Beans on the stove that were taking too long to heat?

Suffer no longer. Time poor Baked Bean lovers rejoice. The Snap Pot is here. Imagine, microwave fresh beans in just 60 seconds.

This is what Nathan Ansell from Heinz had to say about this wonderful new addition to the range,

“Snap Pots are perfect for people with time-pressured lifestyles who want a light snack without adding to the washing up or taking up valuable fridge space storing the remainder of the can”.

Valuable fridge space! He’s right. Now that I don’t have to store left over baked beans in my fridge, I can rent the space to Julia Gillard for the processing of Asylum Seekers. They can call it the Kelvinator Solution.

Perfect for people with time pressured lifestyles! How time-pressured can we possibly be? Without even trying, I can heat up a can of beans on the stove in 3 minutes. It takes at least that long to stick a piece of pre-sliced bread in the Automatic Toaster, toast it and butter it. Of course that means when your Snap Pot Beans are done, you’ll still be waiting 2 minutes for your toast. Add that up over a year, and the average Baked Bean eater who switches to Snap Pots will spend over 3 hours waiting for their toast to pop up. Imagine what you could do with all that time!

Hitting the Shark-pot!

2010-02-11T04:54:00.000-08:00

Some people get all the luck. Paul Welsh is surfing with his son, gets bitten (sorry, that should read ‘savagely menaced’) by a docile and mostly harmless Wobbegong and out come the cheque books. Before a stitch is even sewn, he’s been snapped up by a television network and an early morning trip to the beach is now a big earner. Well done mate. If reports on the websites are true, you’ve hit the Shark-pot. Shame it was only a Wobbegong. Imagine what you’d get for an actual Great White.

The media loves a good shark attack. ‘Deadly Tug of War’ says the headline on News.com.au. It’s a great opportunity to use words like ‘terrifying ordeal’, ‘vicious killer’, ‘savage beast’ and similar adjectives. Along with the story about the ‘horrifying attack’, they can now pull out their favorite Shark Galleries, with 6 metre Great Whites bursting out of the sea in a seal killing frenzy. Hello! It was a Wobbegong!

Witnesses related their accounts of a life and death struggle. In true ‘chk chk boom’ style, it was clearly a juvenile Great White and it hit him like a freight train! Michael Brown, Surfwatch Australia Director must now feel like a bit of a tool after he said, ‘I saw a bit of the tail, which looked like a Great White’. Hello! You’re supposed to be the director of Surf Watch Australia. You of all people should know the difference between a Great White and a Wobbegong.

In my opinion, Paul Welsh actually made a couple of crucial errors when he hit the Shark-pot. First of all, he stopped to speak to people. Then he stopped to pose for photos! Are you mad? What do you do on weekends? Drive down the highway throwing $100 notes out the car window? Now I’m no Jacques Costeau, but when I saw the picture of his wound, (sorry, that should read ‘gruesome laceration) even I knew there was something fishy about the story.

So here’s what to do if you get bitten (sorry, that should read ‘remorselessly shredded’) by a shark. You cover the wound with a towel and get yourself out of sight as quickly as possible. If you’ve got someone to drive you to hospital good. That leaves you free to call Max Markson. Don’t try to negotiate a deal by yourself. Leave it to the experts. Then, if anyone but Max tries to get into your hospital room, tell them you’re too weak to talk. And no matter what happens, don’t let anyone look at your wound, (sorry, that should read mind-numbingly shocking injury) until you’ve signed the contract and they’re putting on make up for your appearance on Today Tonight.

They say more people get killed by vending machines than get killed by Shark Attack. So if you do get bitten, (sorry that should read ‘hatefully mangled’) make sure you milk it for all it’s worth. Now I’m going surfing…in a wetsuit stuffed with fish guts. Look out for me on ‘A Current Affair’.

Charlie, Allan and Jake...No Competition

2009-10-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

It’s Friday night and another week has gone in the blink of an eye. As your head hits the pillow, you may be thinking, ‘where did the week go?’ ‘What did I actually do?’

And then you realize that apart from work, you’ve also watched 10 episodes of 2.5 Men. That’s 5 hours. And you’re not the only one doing it. Thousands of us are. Me included.

That’s right. I don’t mind admitting it. My name is Mick and I watch 2.5 Men. It makes me laugh. Sometimes it even makes me lol. That Charlie, he’s such a sleaze, and Allan, he’s so neurotic, and Jake, he’s not getting any smarter as he gets older. Chuckle, chuckle chuckle. But it's really not that great a show.

So what’s the secret? Why are so many people watching repeats of 2.5 Men with the occasional new episode thrown in? Cos there’s no competition. That’s it. That’s the secret for Channel 9. 2.5 Men is up against nothing.

Check the TV Guide.

7pm Monday to Friday.

Instead of watching Berta’s hilarious wisecracks at the boys expense, you could be watching Home and Away. Last time I checked I wasn’t 13, so no thanks. The 7pm Project. It’s ok, but after breakfast radio, drive radio, the news and A Current Affair, do we really need more humorous banter, opinion, news, gossip and celebrity interviews? Ditto ABC news and SBS World Sport. What’s that? Charlies in trouble with another hot babe! Sounds good to me.

7:30 Monday.

There’s the 7:30 Report. Sorry Kerry, but see above. Highway Patrol. You can’t be serious. Or Jamie’s American Road Trip. Puh-lease. Does everyone need to do an American road trip? Or Top Gear. More road trips really. It’s clearly no contest, especially cos this is the fast tracked new episode. Time to switch off the phone.

8:30 Tuesday.

You can have 2.5 Men back to back. Or you can have ‘A Thousand Encores of the Ballets Russes’ whatever that is! Packed to the Rafters isn’t actually too bad, or there’s NCIS. Hey that sounds awesome. A fast paced murder solving crime show from the States with an acronym for a name. We never get to see those. East West 101, same thing, just not an acronym and not from the States.

7:30 Wednesday.

The 7:30 Report. Once again, sorry Kerry. Border Security. Puh-lease. Or Celebrity Masterchef. Puh-lease. Anna Bligh? Where’s Hot Dogs when you need him? Or an ex-fatty from the Biggest Loser. Note to producers of all Celebrity Television shows. Politicians are not celebrities. They are elected representatives with a job to do. And that job is not cooking or dancing. Inspector Rex. It’s not bad, but really? A crime solving dog! That’s about as plausible as a jingle writing, womanizing, alcoholic who let’s his pathetic, near terminally constipated brother and his moronic, constantly hungry nephew move into his Malibu beachhouse, cramping his bachelor lifestyle, but hilariously teaching him the value of family in the process.

7:30 Friday.

Stateline. See earlier apology to Kerry O’Brien. Better Homes and Gardens. People making stuff, cooking stuff and growing stuff. Where’s the entertaining stuff? The Spearman Experiment. Oh my God! Just kill it already. If Channel 10 are that desperate, just poach Bert back and call the show 20 to 1. Best Cashed Up Bogans! Best Catch Phrases! How about Lamest Clip Shows! Australia voted for you Dr Spearman.

Until 7, 10, the ABC and SBS find some good shows to run against the hilarious Harper boys, 10 episodes a week will keep sneaking up on us. We’ll keep flicking through the channels and we’ll keep coming back to Charlie, Allan and Jake. Because 2.5 Men on TV is kind of like putting Stephanie Rice in the pool against a bunch of 10 year olds. Or racing Makybe Diva against the Shetland Pony from the petting zoo at the local show. Or having to make the choice between Sunday Lamb roast or a muesli bar. 2.5 Men wins, but only by default.

He's Just An Egg

2009-10-20T04:13:00.000-07:00

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses and all the King's men,
Helped to make Humpty feel better again.

Isn't that nice. Apparently that's the new ending from the BBC. The old version was a bit too negative. And there's no point trying to make the point that falling off the wall might hurt. That if you fall from a wall there could be consequences. No kid needs to learn that lesson. So let's clean up all the Nursery Rhymes!

It's raining, it's pouring,
The old man is snoring,
He bumped his head as he went to bed,
And couldn't get up in the morning.

Possibly because he's got a cerebral haemhorrage! Perhaps he couldn't get up cos he's now dead! So quick, we better change that one.

He wet his head as he went to bed,
And woke up with a cold in the morning.

No. Maybe not. We don't want to scare the kids with snotty noses and a possible case of swine flu.

And had messy hair in the morning.

There. That's better.

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.

Not too much to worry about there. Unless you're a midget and you've been racing people at the Spring Carnival. A bit too heavy on the little.

Mary had a short statured lamb, short statured lamb, short statured lamb.

Let's hope it was slaughtered humanely in the end.

Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the Master, one for the Dame.
One for the Little boy who lives down the lane.

Stinks of racism this one. A black sheep! Even a black-face sheep is no good. And 'yes sir, yes sir' and 'master'. That's a clear slavery reference. Another little boy, and Dame doesn't even rhyme with lane. We better get to work on this one.

Baa baa sheep sheep, have you any wool.
If you shear me, three bags full.
All for the farmer, so he can buy some hay,
The short statured boy can have a jumper if he wants to pay.

There. No racist references and a straightforward lesson in simple economics.

Rock a bye baby - just a scary example of bad parenting.
Old Mother Hubbard - that's animal cruelty.
Wee Willy Winky - let's not get started on that one.

We could go on and on, and we haven't even started on Fairy Tales. Sleeping Beauty is a great story, apart from the Prince kissing her when she was sleeping. That's an unwanted sexual advance. Why was she sleeping in the first place? Rohypnol perhaps? Hansel and Gretel pushing an old woman into her own oven! Change it. The wolf actually ate Little Red Riding Hood's Granny. Change it.

Changing the ending of Humpty Dumpty is just opening a Pandora's box of ridiculousness. Myself personally, I liked the ending I heard in the schoolyard in about grade 5 or 6.

All the King's horses and all the King's men said 'Fuck him, he's just an egg.

Lady, You Were Dumb!

2009-10-06T03:09:00.000-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me, but I guess this why they invented the 'Darwin Awards'. A lady from Pennsylvania in the 'Good Ol US of A' was mauled to death by a bear that she kept in a 5 x 5 cage at her home.

Now I know she must have family, so I'm very sad for their loss. But the facts are, she had it coming. Not only did she have a bear in a cage. She also had a Leopard, Lion, Tiger and a Jaguar. It doesn't take a Rhodes Scholar to hazard the guess that she probably wasn't going to be killed in a car crash.

The story says she was cleaning the cage (apparently bears are messy)and she tried to distract the bear with dog food. Big mistake lady. It's a bear! You should've distracted it with a fresh salmon on it's way to spawn, or maybe a freshly killed Moose. Honey works good for bears too. That's on all the TV shows. At the very least, you might've tried a Pic-a-nic basket. They're very fond of those.

So after 9 years in a cage, being fed dog food, the bear snapped. And who could blame him.

Wanna see another bear snap?
Check this out - Bear Attacks Russian Lady

The moral of the story is simple. Wild animals belong in the wild...and don't ride the elephants when you go to Thailand.

Short Story - Lunch Porn

2009-09-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

Lunch Porn

The 3 of us were sitting at the table outside the science lab when Helpy walked over.
“What are ya’s doin at lunchtime?”
“Dunno” was the non-comittal reply. We’d already decided to go to my house. Mum was working, her boyfriend Mick was on day shift, the house was empty and I had half a packet of Winnie Blues hidden in my room. But we weren’t gonna tell Helpy that.
“Do ya’s wanna come to my place. Me oldies aren’t gonna be there.”
“So. Waddawe wanna go to your place for?”
He looked around, apparently in case someone was standing directly behind him. He looked back and paused. The way he played it up he must’ve thought he was onto something. Then he leaned in. “I’ve got some porno’s at home.”
He had our attention. Naked women had our attention.
“Yeah!” Steveo, a little too excited. He recovered. “Yeah right.”
“Bullshit Helpy. Fair dinkum pornos? Where’d ya get ‘em?
“I found ‘em in me oldies wardrobe. Right up the back. They’re red hot. I watched ‘em this morning before I left.”
That was too much for me. Too much for all of us. We thought he’d been talking about magazines.
“You watched ‘em!” I cried out. “Waddaya mean you watched ‘em?”
“They’re videos. Porno video’s. Wait til ya’s see ‘em.”
Helpy was beaming from ear to ear. We didn’t really like him, probably cos he tried too hard to make us like him. But right now he had our full attention. We knew about porno videos but no-one had ever come across one. Exciting stuff.

Lunch was an agonising eternity away. Maths with Mr Deuter. Fractions and trigonometry blended with visions of men and women doing it. Having it off. Fucking. I looked over at Kathy McGregor and tried to imagine myself fucking with her. Our naked bodies pressed together, looking into each others eyes, me on top of her, then her on top of me. I started getting a hard-on. Not good. The last thing I wanted was a hard-on in class. I stopped looking at Kathy McGregor. Steveo was also looking at Kathy McGregor. He looked at me. We smiled. We bent out heads back over out books. We waited.

Double German. I tried to imagine myself doing it with Miss Adams. She’d undress herself first and then me. Then she’d lay back on the bed, pulling me down onto her. She’d moan softly in my ear. “Oh Michael, that’s wonderful”, just like when I gave her a well written assignment, but different. I must have been staring a little too intently. Her head spun and her eyes locked onto mine. Busted. I bent industriously over my work as she peered over my shoulder. Ein, zwei, drei, fier, etc, etc. Time dragged on and then it was lunch.

Thommo and Helpy were in a different class and they were already waiting for us down at the bike racks. They were on their bikes, ready to go.
“What the fuck took ya’s so long?” said Thommo. “We’ve been here for ages.”
“Miss Adams’s a fuckin cow man. I thought she was never gonna let us out.”
I liked Miss Adams so I just nodded and went along with Steveo, pretending to be pissed off. We raced over to where we’d parked our bikes. Steve grabbed his and mine wasn’t there. Someone had taken it. Of all the days for someone to take my bike, it had to be today. It wasn’t stolen. Central Hill was too small for people to get around stealing each others bikes. It’d be back in the bike racks by the end of lunch. Someone had just taken it to go home, or to smoke down at the bridge or whatever. No dramas. Do onto others. I grabbed a 10 Speed Malvern Star and climbed on.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” said Helpy. He was excited. We were all excited.

Down the bush track, out through the broken gate and onto the bike track behind the school. We raced past the lunchtime smokers on the bridge; no time to stop for a ciggie today. Just before the school fence ended and the houses began Helpy veered right and took and little track into the bush. In single file this took us past the a line of identical backyards until we got to Helpy’s place. It was a good move. No one saw us, so no one could ask questions about what the 4 of us were up to in the middle of a school day.

Stepping through the back gate I noticed a big pile of rubbish on the bush side of the fence. Grass clippings, pruning off cuts, broken furniture, car parts, all tossed carelessly over the fence. Typical. Bloody ferals. No wonder Helpy was no good. Look at the example his parents set for him. Of course that attitude had nothing to do with Helpy’s parents hating my guts for ‘allegedly’ getting Helpy pissed after footy a couple of months back. It was hardly my fault if he had 3 sips of Peach Wine and then acted so drunk in front of half the people in town. Anyway, that was all ancient history. Especially cos we were about to watch a porno!

Helpy came back from the bedroom with the video in his hands. He took out the cassette and passed around the cover. ‘Debbie Does Dishes’. The woman on the cover was standing in front of a sink wearing high heels and a short skirt you could see up. On the back were a few little pictures. In 1 there were 3 naked guys standing around the woman who was naked on the bed. In another, 2 women were naked on a couch together. We were all babbling with excitement as Helpy pressed play on the VCR. This was gonna be so good.

It didn’t take long for the action to start. Debbie was only doing the dishes for about 2 minutes before the plumber knocks on the door. Next thing you know, she’s giving him head on the couch, he’s growling her out and then they’re doing it. I had a hard-on before she’d even answered the door. I grabbed a pillow and laid it strategically over my lap. The rest of the boys followed suit without even saying anything, which was unusual. There was no interest in paying anyone out. All the action was on the screen. There wasn’t much of a story. Debbie kept rooting her way through whoever came to the door, even the next door neighbour’s wife. Before it was all over, it was time to rewind the tape and head back to school.

“Where are your parents gonna be tomorrow Helpy?”
“They’re not gonna be home. Do ya’s wanna come over again?”
“Fuck yeah”, we answered in unison. We wanted to see what happened at the end. The exciting climax. It was all building up to the big gang-bang we’d seen on the back cover.
“Yeah no worries”, answered Helpy. “There’s 3 more videos up in the warbrobe we can watch as well”.
3 more videos we can watch. I bit down hard on my tongue. I was gonna give Helpy some shit about being in his oldies wardrobe but managed to stop myself in time. I couldn’t start paying him out when there were still 3 more pornos to watch. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. We had so much to learn.

We all knew about the birds and the bees. The basic mechanics anyway. We’d read porno magazines together. Except for Helpy, we’d all pashed girls and Steveo had even fingered Donna Simpson at the Basketball courts one Friday night when we were supposed to be skating. He made us smell his finger afterwards to prove it. Thommo reckons he stuck it up his arse and I agreed but that’s just cos we were jealous as hell. So we knew the theory behind it all. Practice was what we needed and this porno was somewhere in the middle. Kind of like a detailed instruction manual. It had certainly opened our eyes to a world of new possibilities. All the way back to school we talked about this bit or that bit. How was it when she did this? Or what about when he did that? And do you reckon that kind of thing goes on all the time? There were so many unanswered questions.

My head was spinning as we pulled up to the bike racks so I didn’t see Miss Adams until she was just about on top of me. She had some little grade 9 kid with her. Troy Davis his name was.
“Is this your bike Troy?” She asked him.
“Yes Miss it is”.
Great. I had to take the bike of the only dobber in the school. Plus his brother was in grade 12 and didn’t like me. I’d probably have to fight him as well.
“Can you explain to me Mr Matthews, exactly why you’re riding this young mans bike?”
There was no point explaining. I already knew what her point of view was. If my bike was stolen, I should have reported it.
“I just took it for a ride Miss”.
“You just took it for a ride. You can go to class now Troy. You can come with me Mr Matthews”.

I didn’t hear a word she said as I followed her to the office. I’d heard it all before. Why was I always in trouble? Why couldn’t I just concentrate on my schoolwork? Why must I be a constant disappointment? Miss Adams’s words just washed over me. In my head, she was wearing high heels and a short skirt you could see up.

Aussie Aussie Aussie...Pets Pets Pets

2009-09-03T18:16:00.000-07:00

Pets are starting to get a good representation in the charity stakes. The RSPCA Million Paws walk is one example. Now September is ‘Party for Strays’ month. The theme is, have a party, raise some cash, and that cash gets donated to the Lort Smith Animal Hospital. This helps cover the cost of looking after and re-housing sick and abandoned pets. Giaan Rooney is an ambassador. Almost MasterChef Chris Badenoch is in on the act too, hosting a party at the Courthouse Hotel in North Melbourne on September 10. Good on him for that, although he might’ve chosen a Vegetarian menu for the cause, rather than ‘confit of pig cheek on crackling’ and ‘bone marrow spring rolls’. 500 parties have already been organized around the state and animal lovers should get out and support them.

That’s because as a society, we’re not the greatest pet owners. Hardly a day goes by without some outrageous story of animal cruelty being brought to our attention. Every Christmas you can guarantee several stories about not buying pets for presents, about how many cats and dogs get dumped at holiday time, about unwanted pets being euthanized in ever greater numbers. Then there’s the damage caused by pets that don’t get caught and actually make it in the wild. The ‘Ferals’. Cats living in the bush, growing to enormous size and decimating the bilbies and marsupial rats. Dogs that run wild in packs and kill livestock by the thousands. Those in the know, professional hunters and farmers, tell us it’s only a matter of time until people are injured or killed by the dogs. It’s a continual story of woe, so maybe we’re doing it all wrong. We need to find a way to be better pet owners.

My friend’s sister has a pet Wombat named ‘Fred’. He was saved from his mother’s pouch after she was killed by a car. He was bottle fed for months, and now, he’s part of the family. By all accounts he’s an awesome pet. He gets excited when visitors arrive. He’s tough enough that the dogs are scared of him, but he’s happy to climb into a handy lap for cuddles and pats. Apparently Fred is just like a dog, but way cooler. Who doesn’t remember ‘Fatso’ from ‘A Country Practice’. He was cool too.

So maybe that’s the answer. Maybe we need an intensive effort at marsupial domestication. Thinking about getting a cat? Have a Possum, or even better, an Eastern Spotted Quoll. They’re very rare and you’d be helping bring them back from the brink of extinction. Want a dog? Get a Wombat, Wallaby or Kangaroo instead. They’re just as much fun, just as capable of emotion and companionship, and they won’t bark all night when it’s a full moon. Although you may need a new fence. What about something that’ll keep prowlers away? Well the Tassie Devil is both territorial and fearless. Living in a hi-rise and don’t have the room for a Kangaroo? Get a Sugar Glider or a Koala. They love heights. Got a problem with termites? Get a couple of Echidna’s. I’d like to see a Cat do that.

Domesticating Native animals is all positives. In the current pet climate, rare animals are the expensive ones, and the most highly sought after. If you’ve ever tried to get on the list for a $1200 Labra-Doodle, you’ll know what I mean. With Marsupial pets, that’s an unexpected bonus. Suddenly the very endangered animals are the popular ones.
‘Oh, I see you’ve got a Platypus’.
‘Yes, well we considered a Nail Tailed Wallaby, but you see them everywhere these days’.
Can’t be bothered with the hassle of taking the kids to Healesville Sanctuary? Just take them to the local café strip for Sunday lunch. See the Quokka? See the Ant Eating Numbats? They’re native to South-West WA, but now they’re spreading like rabbits!

Suddenly unwanted pets aren’t a problem any more. You’re not dumping them, you’re returning them to the wild. You’re re-habilitating them. You’re re-stocking. You’re adding to the natural gene pool and ensuring the survival of the species.

There could be problems. Take feeding time for instance. Sugar Gliders eat nectar and not much else. Koalas are famous for eating only the leaves of certain gum trees. But we’ll work that out. The Pet Food industry is robust and adaptable. They’ve given us dry dog food that ‘more dogs prefer’. I’m sure they can come up with Dried Nectar Powder and Gum Leaf Paste to ‘tempt even the fussiest eaters’. And if you’ve got a pet Wombat named ‘Fred’, just open the back door at dinner time. He’ll be happy. He eats roots and leaves.

What's the Big Flush

2009-08-27T02:53:00.000-07:00

Professor John Langford from Uniwater (a research collaboration between Monash and Melbourne Uni’s) claims that mandatory dual flush toilets will save Melbourne 15 Billion litres of water a year. About half a regular size reservoir. Suddenly our gardens will be bountiful again, and who knows, maybe kids will be playing under the sprinklers this summer. All we need is a generous government rebate scheme, and all our old single flush toilets will be shiny new dual flush models in no time. But having a dual flush toilet is nothing new.

I know about the importance of saving water. I grew up on a Grape Farm irrigated by the mighty Murray up near Swan Hill. Sure we had plenty of water for irrigation (things were different back then) but it was a different story when it came to household water. Our 3 bedroom farmhouse was completely reliant on tank water. We used it for cooking, washing the dishes, laundry, bathing and showers, yes and even for flushing the toilet.

So we were always careful with our water. Never more so than during the drought of the mid 80’s. While the grapes got greener, the Murray got lower and so did the levels on all of our water tanks. I started to really understand the seriousness of the problem when Mum started dancing naked in the rain. Well, thankfully not completely naked. And not actual rain either. It was a bit of hopeful looking cloud, followed by a few desperate spots on the tin roof. That was all Mum needed. She’s strip down to her underwear, race down the back steps and start leaping about in the dust. Nothing eventuated. Possibly the rain sensed her desperation and wasn’t about to get into a clingy relationship.

Bath times were tough. Three boys had to share the same bath water every day, taking turns to be the lucky first one in. As the drought went on, so the bath water levels, like the Murray, got lower and lower. Eventually, being last in meant you came out dirtier than when you started. Soon enough, even Mum and the Step-Dad stopped showering and started bathing. Of course they got a refill after the boys were done.

We also had a dual flush toilet. Not the shiny fandangled models referred to earlier. No. Our dual flush toilet worked like this: No flush for wees. Flush for poos. Or more poetically as I recently saw in ‘Meet the Fockers’, ‘if it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down.

Eventually the drought broke, the tanks filled and we even moved to a house that was connected to town water. Imagine that! We could have showers! But some things remain. I still use the old Grape Farm dual flush today. I’ve encouraged my wife to start using it and my daughter is toilet training on it. It does take discipline. Sometimes, when the body clock swings around to work hours, well, the yellow doesn’t stay mellow forever. Sometimes we get cityfolk visitors who don’t understand what we’re trying to achieve. But we persevere because we want to do our part. And by sticking to the plan, we’re surely using even less water than someone with a shiny new dual flush.

My maths probably isn’t exact, but if everyone in Melbourne forgot about the half-flush button, and only pressed the big button when they really needed too? Well I’m sure we could save about 100 Billion litres of water in a year! Suddenly we don’t even need a de-sal plant, or a north-south pipeline. And we certainly don’t need a rebate system to replace all the single flush dunnies in town.

So everyone repeat after me, ‘if it’s yellow…’

New Website

2009-08-16T04:39:00.000-07:00

New blog up and running in conjuction with new website.
Please visit www.mickneven.com.au for more info.