Christmas Day.
Oddly enough, the gathering of the Insertnamehere clan at Lenin House this year did not result in fist-fights, food-fights or agonised discussions about who did what to whom in 1976*.
From this I conclude the best way of dealing with my family is to shove vast amounts of food into them as soon as they arrive.
The Second Test.
Could this match get anymore exciting?
I spent most of Sunday, watching the game with my jaw firmly lodged on the floor.
And how fuckin’ good were JP Duminy and Dale Steyn**?
I hope you’re enjoying the match, Melba. It really doesn’t get much better than this.
Harold Pinter
Proof again that being a playwright of some note doesn’t stop you from being a complete cunt in other aspects.
And here was me thinking Ertha Kitt was rhyming slang.
*I didn’t even tell my sister to “put a feckin’ sock in it” when she kept rabbiting on and on about reflexology – such was my restraint.
**The answer – fuckin’ good!
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19 comments:
Rhyming slang for what?
I didn’t even tell my sister to “put a feckin’ sock in it” when she kept rabbiting on and on about reflexology – such was my restraint.
A foot massage with lavender oil will ease away your intractable cynicism, earth brother.
I get similarly irritated when my sister tells me she won't let her kids watch some cartoon or tv show (usually one that I'm happy to let mine watch), but won't explain clearly what it is she finds so inappropriate about it.
Boogey,
Think "I've had a case of the Ertha Kitts".
I got it Ramon. And I'm pretty fucking stupid, in case you haven't noticed.
Why 1976? I would have thought that 1975, specifically November 11, would have been more a topic of controversy at Lenin House.
And thanks for the link. Despite having to click on the word "cunt", it is a very interesting article. Despite the writer's obvious dislike of Pinter it is remarkably well balanced. A good read.
My fanatically Labor family were of one mind over The Dismissial, Wari.
I'm not surprised Ramon, despite my slightly right tendencies I'm still not convinced that it held water constitutionally. Either way, time has shown that no matter what side of the fence you sit politically, Frazer is a cunt and Whitlam, whether you agreed with his policies or not, is a man of integrity who has never wavered in his stance all this time. As well as being, in my opinion, the greatest orator to ever take the floor in parlaiment.
I remember "doing" Pinter for the school play. Excellent choice for a bunch of 14 year old girls. We wished we could just die. And, we did.
Teacher: "This term class, we'll be studying the works of Harold Pinter."
Pause.
Class "Oh.
Fuck."
Ramon, would you mind going down to third man and blocking up that hole?
Catlick,
Christ himself could come on to bowl for Australia and that wouldn't stop the Yarpies from giving us a complete pantsing.
Face it comrade - this is over.
In a basement somewhere, blazered men use long sticks to push painted lead cricket figurines around a baize oval. A young man, torn between deference and the need for haste enters the room. "Sir", he says, "He's available". "Eddie Perfect is available for the third Test".
Bugger it, I'm available for the Third Test!
Pray for rain. It's our only hope. Even the lunch break is depressing.
I just wish the end would come now.
I want to go outside for a ciggie.
Well.
That's that then ....
At least you know you've got a good team when someone is so fucking happy to have beaten you.
Nice to see the South African players go out of their way to acknowledge the fans - many of whom had travelled to Melbourne from hellholes like Perth.
At least Punter had a shave for the post match interview.
Punter reads this blog on a regular basis, Wari.
He signs in as "Melba".
Some holiday moments...
The vodka cruiser and JB cans form endless trails. Hansel and Gretel get shit faced every night down here.
Toppled wheelie bins, 5, 6, 7 in a row disgorge scraps and nappies and black polystyrene meat trays that mysteriously lift off in the breeze.
I make an appointment with my grocer to buy milk. I set my alarm for 7.00am, but the supermarket is overcrowded even at that hour.
Fisticuffs between two women broke out in the checkout line yesterday.
The early shift is popular as staff like to get away before the drunks come in. Boys drink bourbon for breakfast in the Coles car park.
Chaps outside my local Safeway's like to gather around to drink JBs in the carpark.
Because nothing says relaxed ambience like a supermarket carpark.
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