All the episodes of Bluey ranked (1 of 4)

(Part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here). 

Is there a better use of my time than ranking, in order of worst to best, all of the episodes of Bluey from seasons 1 and 2? I THINK NOT. There's a lot of episodes, and I've got a few too many things to say about each one. In this instalment, there's magical underpants, a Greedy Queen and a Kindly Queen, and a cake that looks like a duck. LET'S GET INTO IT. 

104. Spy Game

Bluey and Mackenzie play spies, in order to collect potion grass, which will then make a potion, which can then be used for magic, which…. I can’t make head or tail of this game. There’s a lot of to and fro in this episode – a sideplot involving Bandit and the barbecue and the playful teasing from his friends – ‘you’re burnin’ ‘em, you’re burnin’ ‘em!’ – and Bingo playing, then not wanting to play. Many of the best Bluey episodes are based around games played successfully (or not so successfully), but this one doesn’t feel like it quite comes together. 

103. Movies

It is a marvel to me how this little seven minute show manages to have two or three plots going at once. In this episode Bandit takes Bluey and Bingo to the movies – ‘Chunky Chimp’! Bluey is a little worried she’s going to be scared by the movie but then, ‘Mackenzie’s seen it’; Bingo, two years younger than Bluey, has no such issues, mostly because she spends all of her time running around evading Bandit and ignoring the movie; and the movie itself runs at the same time – you see enough of it to get a sense of its plot, too. ‘Look, mate, it’s a movie about a talking chimp, don’t think too much about it’, Bandit reassures Bluey (yeah, right, thanks dad). The experience of going to the movies at some megaplex is evoked with impressive realism, and there’s cleverness in the way the script has Bluey and Chunky Chimp say the same thing at the same time, drawing the multiple plots together. Still, I suspect Bandit has it right in his assessment of the movie – and it does feel like a bit of a cheat, having the standard Hollywood cliches (‘just be yourself’!) be substitute for the usual subtle Bluey moral. 

102.  Bob Bilby

My feelings about this one, in which Bingo has to take a kindergarten puppet Bilby home for the weekend and create a series of photo memories with the Bilby, but keeps getting distracted by watching digital animations on the family Tablet, are complicated by the fact that I keep getting distracted by watching this digital animation on the computer. So are digital distractions bad or good? I don’t mind this episode, but it’s probably one of the ones in which the program comes closest to the twee family-friendly moralising of, say, a 1980s sitcom.   

 

101. Typewriter

An unusual quest narrative, this, consisting of a few parts that don’t always come together. First you have Calypso’s story which Bluey finds unconvincing (because, well, it is). This inspires Bluey to become a writer so she can write a better ending to the story; only to do this she needs the typewriter. Then you get Bluey’s posse – here it is interesting; like in those movie or fantasy quests, Bluey assembles a team (Winton and Snickers) with some unusual abilities. (Winton is a ‘space invader’, because he scares people off with his habit of moving into their personal space – it comes into use later in the episode). And lastly you have a challenge – that would be the Terriers, defending Scotland (‘Bwing! Bwing! Bwing!’) OK, now I’m having fun. But the moral is also a bit lacklustre; Bluey learns the power of imagination. Thankfully the show never preaches, but it seems like a message I could get from a thousand other kids’ shows anyway? So I’m not sure about this one.

 

100. Queens

While mum Chilli scrubs the lorikeet poo off the deck – (‘ew!’ says Bluey. ‘You’re mum’s not afraid of a little hard work’, replies Chilli) – Bluey and Bingo dress up and play Queens. (Or rather, they take turns playing the Queen and the royal butler). There’s a point in here about inherited privilege and their reliance on the working classes, I guess, though it’s not pushed overhard, so it doesn’t overstay it’s welcome. Still, this episode doesn’t quite do it for me.  

99. Grannies

Dress up time, and we say goodbye to Bluey and Bingo as we say hello to Rita and Marge, two grannies who are mysteriously the same size as Bluey and Bingo. Bingo wants to be the flossing granny (the dance move), but Bluey insists that ‘grannies can’t floss’! So a call to Nanna is in order. It’s a pretty simple episode really. 

98. Easter 

This variation on the Easter Egg hunt of childhood sees Bluey and Bingo engage in an elaborate treasure hunt, orchestrated, apparently, by their Mum and Dad. There are some clever visual puns and the final reveal of the Easter Eggs happens with all the sumptuous spectacle that we have come to expect from the animator Ludo Studios. There is an interesting backstory – ‘Will the Easter Bunny forget like he did last year?’ ‘He didn’t forget’, explains Bandit, ‘He left a letter!’ And he reads the Easter Bunny’s weird excuse on the wall. O, what a tangled web we weave when first we etc etc, but then again, there’s nobody like the Heeler family when it comes to playing make-believe with their kids. So this is okay. This episode is okay. Okay? 

 

97. Duck Cake 

When Bandit gets landed with the job of making one of those ridiculously complicated cakes-that-look-like-things for Bingo’s birthday party, you kinda know the episode is going to end up being a bit like an episode of Nailed It. Meanwhile, Bluey learns how to tidy up – it’s all a bit too wholesome for me. This isn’t one of my favourites, but it’s got significant cultural heft – duck cakes are being made for birthday parties right around the country. People are weird. 

 

96. Trampoline 

Bandit is playing on the trampoline with Bluey and Bingo but that all ends with him climbing out – ‘I’ve got to get to work’. Bluey wants none of that, and keeps on coming up with new games to get him to come up and play. The concept is simple enough, made fun by Bandit’s willing compliance and the creative way he plays the games, though it lacks a sense of urgency that would add a certain comic zest to Bandit’s repeated attempts to get to work. 

 

95. Tickle Crabs

One of the ‘just playing games at home’ episode, but it’s not without a few knotty ethical and metaphysical problems. For instance, apparently dogs put *on* clothes when they visit the beach (actually Bandit just goes to the backyard, but for the purposes of the game it’s the beach). Also, significantly for an episode in which Bandit says Chilli is his ‘true love… because she’s always there for me’, this episode contains a lot more about people running away from stuff. Actually, running away from tickle crabs. (Noooo, not the dreaded tickle crabs!) You’re not left so much with a moral as an awkward truth – sometimes, when you’re a parent, you’re so desperate for any time to yourself that you might find yourself hiding in the cupboard…  

94. Verandah Santa

The whole Heeler gang have got together on the night before Christmas. It must be, what, 9 pm and Muffin is weirdly un-hypo - try to square that with her special brand of late-night craziness in The Sleepover! But consistency is for losers, and anyway, they’re all here to learn the true meaning of Christmas, which is, being nice to one another is a very shrewd tactical method for getting presents off that fearsome bearded wraith from the far north. No, it’s actually being violent to your parents is heaps fun and when you’re a kid they let you get away with a lot of shit. Well, that’s not true either; the moral is closer to the former, so it is a bit bland – in a game of Verandah Santa, Bluey hurts her cousin Socks’ feelings and has to learn that we’re not nice to one another just to get presents. This Christmas episode certainly doesn't attain the positively symphonic exuberance of Pool Swim, and isn’t quite as iconically Australian as that episode either. But the game of Verandah Santa is fun and the jokes are plentiful and, oh heck, it’s Christmas, Mister! So on the whole this is quite a decent Christmas episode.  

93. Butterflies

Man, Judo is so annoying in this episode! I know that’s kind of the point – ‘She doesn’t have anyone to play with’, explains Bluey to Bingo as she interrupts them and insults Bingo – but that doesn’t change the fact that being annoyed by her is, well, annoying. It does make the emotional crisis she causes interesting though – what do you do with that annoying friend who maybe means well, but who causes a rift between one sister (Bluey) and another (Bingo) because she’s only really interested in playing with one (Bluey)?

92. Helicopter

Bluey, on top of an old tree stump, becomes a helicopter pilot – ‘Chop chop chop chop chop!’ But then has to adapt herself to the other pups wishes – she becomes a little more flexible with each helicopter ride. There’s a lot of cute stuff in this episode, but why do the Terriers always get the best lines? ‘Boing, boing, boing! Boing, boing, boing!’ (Reprising the cute ‘bwing bwing bwing’ of Typewriter.)

 

91. Octopus 

As a change from all the episodes with The World’s Best Dad, AKA Bandit, we get an episode with The World’s Most Adequate Dad, AKA Chloe’s Dad. He’s trying to play a game of ‘Octopus’ with Chloe, which she learned from Bluey and Bandit, but he keeps on buggering things up. He walks behind the couch when he should walk in front, he keeps on letting Chloe get the treasure too easily, and, worst of all, he doesn’t make those blooble-blooble-blooble noises that apparently according to kids in Bluey world Octopuses actually have to make. What’s that all about? ‘You’re not as fun as Bluey’s dad’ says Chloe, which must leave her poor geeky dad feeling rather crushed. Because it is based around a boring dad some bits in this episode are admittedly, well, a bit boring (there’s actually a scene where Chloe’s Dad just looks at things on the computer, which is pretty much dramatic death). But the dilemma this show is based around is interesting, the resolution is very affirming and anyway, it’s good to see some character development for Chloe and her dad. 

90. The Show

For Mother’s Day Bluey and Bingo decide to put on a show about…. how their mum and dad first met. So Bingo becomes Chilli and Bluey becomes Bandit and Bandit and Chilli become audience members, who are also themselves. It gets…. weird. There’s a bit of fun to be had here, and some of Chilli’s and Bandit’s backstory is told.

89. Christmas Swim

This is a suitably exuberant and energetic episode as the whole family get together for Christmas lunch by the pool. (I think it’s Uncle Stripe’s?) Everyone gets some action – squabbles between the brothers Stripe and Bandit, Muffin going absolutely bananas over the pool swim, Nanna itching to help with the cooking (or preferably take it over entirely), a suitably doggy game of fetch by the pool (they’re catching tennis balls – Chilli snaps it neatly in her mouth). And Bluey is showing her present (a doll she names Bartleby) around, introducing him to her family. It’s a bit of a pretext, really, for including everyone in the plot, but the theme is inclusion. They do say Christmas television is a bit of a desert, but if this came on at Christmas time I’d watch the shit out of it. 

 

88. Hotels

A cute episode about a game of hotels Bluey and Bingo play with their dad. This time Bandit is the well behaved one (sort of) and it’s the kids that are really making the chaos – there’s a crazy cleaner, and a crazy pillow. Nice. 

87. Horsey Ride

When Uncle Stripe arrives with his fam, Bandit makes them all an enticing offer: ‘Okay kids, who wants to lie down on the couch and WATCH CRICKET?’ Bluey, having none of that, gets them all to play Horsey Rides. There’s a lot of fun here – Bandit is renamed ‘Sir Galahop’ and Uncle Stripe becomes ‘Sparkles’ – but Muffin seems so weirdly uncrazy (this is an early appearance for her character, who gets more entertainingly Bonkers McGoo in later episodes, thankfully). Her little sister Socks, meanwhile, seems to be acting like an actual dog, which is weird in a show where even the adult dogs are acting like horses. Though there’s a basic theme here – Bluey’s anxious for her favourite toy, Polly Puppy, who’s been stolen by her cousin Socks – the show mostly feels like a series of unconnected gags, because Bluey doesn’t actually seem to be worried much about Polly Puppy at all. Focus, Bluey, focus! 

 

86. The Magic Xylophone

I feel kinda bad placing this one near the bottom because, like all Bluey episodes, it’s top quality. There’s a lot of good here – Bandit playing piano and guitar on Bluey and Bingo, before later taking on the role of a melodramatic villain (appropriate for the game) complete with make up. But there’s so much good in the other shows too, so….

85. Circus 

It’s election day, and of course Bluey and Bingo have no idea what that means, so their parents have to explain it all. ‘It’s when you pick someone to be the leader.’ ‘Ooh, don’t pick him, I don’t like his smile.’ Well, that’s as good a political argument as many that I’ve heard, but still, Chilli and Bandit patiently explain, it’s not quite like that. As they queue up to vote, the kids get decoyed by a game of circus – Bluey is the ringmaster. ‘I’ll be the audience, you can’t tell me what to do,’ explains Bingo. ‘Okay’ says Bluey tolerantly. Meanwhile, Winton wants to join the circus, instead of playing with the big and bossy Hercules. So we get a look at two different ways of making decisions, it’s quite clever and very fun. Just because you’re stronger, it doesn’t mean you get to make a choice, suggests the show – only, for me, it kind of ruins this moral a bit later in search of a satisfying plot conclusion.    

84. Shaun

Bluey and Bingo really want a pet, but Bandit rebuffs their pleas. ‘We don’t need a pet!’ he says. ‘We’ve got Shaun!’ And holds up his hand in the shape of an emu. Pretty dodgy exchange if you ask me, dad, but it works on Bluey and Bingo. Shaun is not only a bad imitation of an emu, it turns out, but a bad pet as well, always pecking other family members, or even hapless passersby: Lucky’s Dad cops it once again. This makes for some good jokes (good old fashioned slapstick violence) and a characteristically minimalistic Bluey plot, complete with some striking animation and direction. 

 

83. Mount Mumanddad 

This is a return to the mountaineering theme we got in Blue Mountains, though also a homage to all those trek documentaries and adventure/survival movies. It’s got an originality of its own, and there’s a lot of fun here, but mostly I can’t stop thinking about how weirdly square Bandit’s bum looks. We get to look a lot at his bum this episode, and it’s just so…. *square*. Another oddity is mum Chilli’s stirring speech at the end, another survival documentary/movie homage – it’s like one of those voiceovers you get. But she’s doing this at home, with her kids climbing up her chest. It works for the show, but I just can’t see a mum or dad doing this at home, y’know? 

 

82. Neighbours

There’s nothing quite like filching the couch cushions and making a cubby house out of them, which Bluey and Bingo do so they can play Neighbours. Along comes Chilli to join in the game, and then Bandit. Welcome to Mulberry Street, everyone! Only Bingo starts encroaching on Bluey’s territory – she needs room for her toy horses. And Bandit – well, Bandit has taken it upon himself to be the agent of chaos here on this quiet suburban pretend street. This is a sweet tribute to the natural Bluey environment, the community of the suburbs, with some good sight/sound gags. The resolution here is fun, but not entirely satisfying – it relies on Bingo acting in a way that - well, I’m not sure she would act that way.  

 

81. Hammerbarn 

Finally, an episode about one of the seven deadly sins: avarice. Or, in colloquial terms: ‘The grass is always greener on the other side.’ ‘What does that mean?’ Bluey asks her parents. But by this time both Chilli and Bandit are staring in open lust at Lucky’s Dad’s new pizza oven. So they’re off to Hammerbarn. Striking for its evocation of one of the more iconic Australian stores (gee, I wonder what popular hardware chain this one is supposed to represent), the show has some good gags though they sometimes feel a bit unconnected. 

 

80. Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound

While Bingo is sick in hospital, with mum Chilli by her side, Bandit and Bluey, Uncle Stripe, Aunt Trixie, Muffin and Socks make a little home movie to cheer her up. Again we’re in ‘show within a show’ world, another one of those plot devices beloved of sitcoms. All the characters get good cameos within this show world – Muffin is pretty good (‘No! Not my good vase!’ gasps Chilli when she sees Muffin stirring something up in it.), and Myf Warhurst – voice of Aunt Trixie – finally finds her true calling as ‘the wise old wolfhound’, a kind of mystical guru like figure. (Also look out for Mackenzie and Lucky). All in all a pleasing little one off. 

 

79. Stumpfest

Bandit and his friends just want to get rid of two old stumps in the backyard; Bluey and her friends suddenly discover they want to play on the stumps. The backyard suddenly becomes split between two opposing factions, the kids taking the part of protesters – ‘Save our stump! Save our stump!’ – Bandit and his friends taking the part of loggers reluctantly entering into negotiations with the hippies. ‘Okay, you can put make up on me, but no unicorn horn’ says Lucky’s Dad, fated to get make up and a unicorn horn on his head. The parody works though feels a bit contrived and opportunistic, making this one of the less successful episodes. Some fun is had with seeing Bandit, Uncle Stripe, and Lucky’s Dad going bananas in a very blokey, very Australian way.

 

78. Wagonride

Bluey and Bingo go on a trip to the park, pulled in the wagon by Bandit. Okay, actually Bluey coerces Bandit into taking them in the wagon, and then has to struggle to be patient every time Bandit stops to talk to someone. Some nice animated details here, illustrating the streets of Brisbane.  

 

77. Zoo

Just a simple episode about Bluey and the whole family making up a zoo at home; as usual Bandit causes trouble when he’s given the job of being a baboon – at first, hardly bothering with the role at all, and then throwing himself into the role with a bit too much enthusiasm. 

76. Shadowlands

This is one of the classics, an immersive game that reveals the strengths of the kids, and Teaches Them A Valuable Life Lesson. There are a number of clever touches here, like Bluey having to run along in the shadow of a bus to avoid breaking the rules of the game. The animation, as always, is gorgeous – you can see the wind blowing through the grass of the park. And Snickers the sausage dog is always fun – ‘Snickers! Run your little sausage dog legs!’ 

 

75. The Adventure

This great little one-piece stands as a homage to the high adventure fantasy movies or, perhaps, the long-running fantasy adventures you can find on the telly. There’s a special Bluey twist, too – it’s all a complicated game being played by Bluey and Chloe. And not only do they put their costumes on and off – they will swap costumes if they come up with an idea to make the adventure better. It’s all about the complicated dealings between the Kindly Queen, the Good Princess, and the Greedy Queen (who is also a witch) – it really doesn’t need too much explaining. It’s all quite a joyful romp; it doesn’t have a complicated moral dilemma or theme, unlike the other shows, so perhaps it isn’t as emotionally deep, though it is an affirmation of the most basic Bluey theme of all – the importance of play. 

 

74. Keepy Uppy

This show spins a magical seven minutes out of the simplest of concepts – in this episode, not allowing a balloon to touch the ground. Lucky’s Dad gets a cameo, heroically helping to keep the balloon in the air until ‘Oh, me hammy!’ Nothing too complicated to comment on in this episode – just simple fun. 

 

73. Pirates

Bluey and Bingo are playing with their mum and dad and little friend Missy in the park – problems start to arise when the ‘littlest pirate’ gets scared and hides behind the ‘lighthouse’ (a piece of park equipment). A simple Bluey episode, this one, with a stand-out score, imbuing the most ordinary act of children playing in a park and learning how to face their fear with outsize, Pirates of the Caribbean-style heroism. 

 

72. Mums and Dads

We start this one with a sweet couple, Indy and Rusty, who are playing Mums and Dads. Clearly something is going right here, because they soon start fighting – just like real mums and dads. Awwwww. Anyway, they disagree over who should stay at home and mind the baby and who should go to work. Indy says it’s the mum who goes to work; Rusty thinks that’s stupid. So, they shout ‘I’m never going to play mums and dads with you again!’ and set off to find a better mum and dad. There’s some cute bits here, all right, in this follow up to Early Baby, though to my mind some of the costume-based gags rely a little too much on some of the characters acting out of character.

How to take care of yourself with a big cheering cup of non-sequitur

 We'll be in lockdown forever, but cats are nice! 

The new COVID variant that turns us all into blood sucking vampires poses a significant risk to health and safety, but daffodils are in season! 

The sudden appearance of angelic armies in the skies would seem to indicate the Day of Judgement is at hand, but I have a box of Roses Chocolates, and I saved your favourites!

The bathroom is dirty and will have to be cleaned, but here is a picture of a puppy! 

Fig 1: a cat being nice

WTFF News (Deutsche Auflage) - Australischer Ampelmann will cool sein, wie deutscher Ampelmann

 Er spricht, und er spricht Deutsch - und er ist ganz wütend. Wir haben den australischen Ampelmann in einer kleinen Bar getroffen, und er hat sich so viel über seinen deutschen Kollege beschworen. Er hat für sich selbst nur einem kleinen Wünsch - zu cool sein, wie der deutscher Ampelmann. 

"Für so lange Jahre habe ich diese Stadt reichlich bedient, and welcher Preis habe ich erworben? Nichts und nirgends!" sagt er. "Niemand denkt das ich so cool wie der deutsche Ampelmann sein. Und wofür? Weil er einen hübschen Hut trägt? Oh, das ist was zu klatschen! He, manchmal habe ich Grün für einen Kanguru oder Koala geworden. Aber wahrscheinlich das ist nicht so wichtig, ha? Pfui!"

Er nimmt einen riesigen Schluck seinem Bier, und stimmt bitterlich an: "Die einzelne Zeit, die einfach einzelne Zeit, dass Leute mir Acht geben haben, war wenn sie die Straße übergehen wollen. Oh, plötzlich bin ich ihr wichtig, he? Sie wollen nicht umgefahren sein? Arschlocher!"

"Doch", erklärt er, "ich möchte nicht berühmt sein, wie der andere Ampelmann. Das ist mir ganz egal. Aber was  beneidet mir am meisten, was frisst mir die Eingeweide aus, ist das die Leute ihm krass finden. Er ist chic! Ein totaler Supermodel! Das finde ich blödsinnig!"

"Es ist mir ganz geheimnisvoll, was es mit ihm ist, dass ihr anzieht", beendet er. "Ihr seid alle sehr rätselhaft. Ich weiß nicht. Ich gebe es auf."

 Er... danke, australischer Ampelmann! 

THIRD QUARTER IN THE COVID CUP

BIFF: We're coming back to you now, in the third quarter of the COVID Cup, and Rugger, I know Victoria are the crowd favourites here, but I just don't think they can come back to win the cup. 

RUGGER: I think you're right, Biff, but then, COVID is a game of ups and downs, and you just don't know what's next around the corner, if you get my drift. 

BIFF: Let's look at the stats for these two teams, Rugger. 

RUGGER: Pulling up the table now.... as you can see, Biff, Victoria's performance on the spreadsheet last year was just off the charts, they notched up a whopping total of lockdown runs on the scoreboard, and no other team was able to knock them off their perch. 

BIFF: No, although NSW did try to close the gap, including that memorable late northern beaches lockdown in December. But... 

(Siren blares)

RUGGER: It's on, Biff!

BIFF: It's on!

RUGGER: It's going orrrrrff! 

BIFF: You can just hear the Victorian crowd, they're practically raising the roof, they haven't lost their enthusiasm at all! 

RUGGER: That's their man, Big Dan Andrews, they love that boy! 

BIFF: He just keeps on lockin' 'em down, Rugger - before the break, he scored them a precious Fifth Lockdown, keeping their hopes up. 

RUGGER: One hundred and ten per cent, Biff. 

BIFF: It kept the Victorian crowd happy, but it's just not going to be enough... that NSW lockdown score is just too much. 

RUGGER: One hundred and ten per cent, Biff, they're behind their man one hundred and ten per cent! They're getting on the Dan train and reaching for the sky! 

BIFF: He's lining up for another lockdown, Rugger! 

RUGGER: He's got them to this place, Biff, they just need to position themselves in the right spot so they can get just that little bit further, and.... 

BIFF: OOOOOOOH! Their SIXTH lockdown! That's four so far this year! 

RUGGER: Victoria is still in the running, Biff! 

(Crowd cheering)

RUGGER: They're still in the running.... they're not letting go of the bat for one minute! 

BIFF: Rugger! 

RUGGER: It's checkmate, Biff, but that's not the end of the story! 

BIFF: Absolutely, Rugger, absolutely! 

On not being in denial

Apparently, society is 'in denial of death'. We get told this so often, and with such frequency - that we are in 'denial of death', and that we never talk about dying, and that why aren't we talking about dying in morbid detail right now, or if not now, two seconds ago - that one starts to suspect the motives, and indeed the veracity of the speaker. Are we really 'in denial of death'? Or are the people telling us that we are 'in denial of death' themselves in denial of our not being in denial of death? 

Then there are the people who do more than this, who not only say that 'we are in denial of death', but who will open their conversational gambit, in the manner of a flatmate drawing attention to one's cleaning roster, by saying 'we need to talk about death'. (And if there's one thing I'm in denial about, it's the cleaning roster - any cleaning roster, really.) Really? We need to talk about? Right here over the dinner table? Just when I was about to bring out the steamed sheep's brains?*

Perhaps all these professional gloom-mongers and harshers of the collective societal mellow are themselves afflicted by a want, or perhaps more a wistfulness - a wistfulness for a world in which you can announce 'society is in denial of death' and be instantly feted with applause and veneration for their profound insight - rather than the actual world, where all such an announcement does is cause another social death, the death of any wish of people to be around you whatsoever. For it's quite one thing to talk about death and dying - in fact, a topic of some conversational fascination (you can barely open a book or watch a film without some character dying of some extremely hideous and therefore extremely interesting cause). But it's quite another to talk, seemingly endlessly, about how we don't talk about death and dying, and thus never get around to talking about the actual thing. 

It is, I suppose, a victory of the theoretical over the practical. Why talk about the real thing when you haven't actually done it yourself? And once you do, you can't actually talk about it, either. Bit of a problem. 

It's probably what Sartre meant: Hell is other people.... going around, talking about how we are in denial of death and dying, for eternity. 

*My wife's a vegetarian. I wouldn't really do that.**

**Unless you start saying 'our society is in denial about....'

Excuse me, there's something in my panopticon.... *sniff*

Look the camera in the eye, 

Smile and wave a friendly HI - 

Somewhere a contact tracing guy

Will you see waving, passing by

And wave right back to you. 

The sayings of the vegans

(I have almost decoded their strange language.) 

I ain't got no Veef with him.
He really thinks he's the big Sheese, but I ain't got no Veef with him. 
After all, someone's got to bring home the fakon in this family,
And I know which side my bread is I Can't Believe It's Not Buttered on, 
And I may be Quorn to be wild, 
But I can't just quit cold Tofurkey like that, can I? 
So 
I ain't got no Veef with him. 

Suburban visions and bus wisdom

 Saw two or three things today that made me doubt objective reality, in a modest boring suburban middle aged kind of way. 

The first happened a few blocks down from our house; on a plot of land that used to contain a nice old yellow weatherboard house with a back garden. Over the past few years the Baron and I had seen, with dismay, how this house was knocked down, the land razed, and a flimsy looking structure of boards and glass and what have you erected in its stead. Two or three months ago, these massive doors were finally installed in the front of the houses, and they were installed so badly that the handles on the left-hand side of the doors did not match with the handles on the right-hand side of doors. It really was - is - the most unconvincing piece of architecture I've ever seen. House? Art? Economic investment? I'm not sure it knows itself what it wants to be. 

Well, this morning, as I walked with Elspeth to the train station, I noticed - scowling into the sunlight (which has no business being so bright this time of year) a young heavily pregnant woman in grey singlet and suburban-mum tracky-dacks, and a toddler. 

Odd sort of vision to be having before lunch, I thought, and went on my way.

The second happened later that morning, at the market, where I happened upon a potato vendor looking rather potatoid himself. Brown coat, and a gnarled, knobbly face, as if he'd only recently been drawn up from out of the earth. Is it possible for potatoes to be able to walk and talk like that? 

Not sure what any of this means, really, but I thought I'd impart it all to you. I'll leave you with the two messages imparted to me this afternoon, by the digital screen on the bus. 

The first message reads: 

PLEASE REMEMBER TO VALID 

Not to be outdone, the second follows: 

ER TO VALIDATE YOUR MYKI. 

I think we can all get something from those two pieces of wisdom. 

Proverbs for cloud lovers

Don't mean to pour a cold shower on your cold shower. 

But bright days are looming on the horizon. 

Sun, sun, go away
Come again some other day. 

After all, life isn't all spring showers and dark clouds. 

But even in the clearest days, you have to remember, the rain is raining somewhere. 

And autumn and winter will come again. 

There'll be grey skies over
The white cliffs of Dover
Tomorrow
Just you wait and see.

And above all, remember - there's a dark cloud behind every silver lining. 

Willy Yeats I aint

A poem for my daughter

 Now you are adorable 

And I am old and snorable 

But if I were Peter Dutton, that 

Would be much more deplorable. 

Updowns

What do they get up to in Downtown? 

What's going on down in Uptown? 

Downtown is downtown from Uptown, and Uptown is uptown from downtown. That much is clear. 

But is Downtown on the up? 

Is there an Uptown turn down or downturn? 

Do folks in Uptown buy Downtown in downturns, and upturn Downtown downturns? 

Does Downtown upturn when Uptown downturns? 

Does Uptown turn down Downtown in Downtown downturns, and does Downtown turn up for Uptown in Uptown downturns? 

I don't know. I don't know. But if you've got the down low, hit me up. 

Christmas Eve: a seasonal pageant

 MUSIC: Away in a Manger, played on soft strings. The SCENE is the Garden of Eden. ADAM is making something over a fire, and EVE is setting places round a stone table. 

ADAM: Hmmmm... the pudding's going to need some more plum brandy, and as for the custard.... well.... 

EVE: ...now, the dog's got a place here, but that means I can't put the cat there, but the only other place left is next to the mice and.... hm.... what's got into you? 

ADAM: (Irritated) It's nothing, Eve. So, I suppose if we ask the ducks nicely, they might be able to give us some eggs, and..... 

EVE: But maybe if I moved the hippopotamus, that would clear up several spaces over there, and.... oh, come on, spit it out. I know you're going to. 

ADAM: No, no. I know it's important to you. 

EVE: Oh, don't be like that, Adam - talk to me! Remember when you used to talk to me about your problems? 

ADAM: (Shoulders slump) Eve, Eve. It's just.... why do we even celebrate Christmas? 

EVE: Not this again! Come on, Adam - we have to! It's TRADITION! 

ADAM: Of course, of course - and in this diverse, multicultural world we live in, I respect everyone's traditions, I really do. But why this? What does it even mean? The pudding? The presents? The party? This obsession over places and who gets to pull each other's sodding crackers? 

EVE: It's tradition, Adam. We've always done it this way. Since...

ADAM: Since that time that everything, the world, the creatures, us, even TIME ITSELF was created, just five and a bit months ago, give or take a day? How did we get to be so nostalgic for bygone eras all of a sudden, eras that we both know have never been? 

EVE: A woman knows what a woman knows, Adam. And this woman knows that when we have a tradition, we stick to it. 

ADAM: Well - it's not that I don't enjoy having a dinner party. But it just seems that this is the most elaborate dinner party yet - and we spend so much time fussing over who we sit the serpent next to, when we know that he'll probably either try to eat them, or.... 

EVE: (Sharply) He's YOUR friend, Adam, and don't you forget it! 

ADAM: Yes, but - do you see what I mean, love? I'm not even sure who we're going to cook. 

EVE: The turkey - he said he's happy to do it. 

ADAM: Are you sure? That's what the unicorn said for our last dinner party, and I don't think I've even *seen* another one since. 

EVE: Well, she was particularly delicious. 

ADAM: Oh my, yes. And, look, I understand love, really, I do, but.... (quietens) I do feel a bit funny about eating our friends like this. What if we tried vegetarian? 

EVE: Well, you know I don't mind that when it's just the two of us. But try telling that to the lion! He's strictly a meat man. And the leopard and the wolf are even more strict, somehow! Remember that time we had the leopard over for dinner? 

ADAM: Oh, I know. "How would you like your steak", I said. "Roar", they said. "You mean rare?" I said. Well, she got so angry she almost ate me! I couldn't even talk her up to medium roar, whatever that is! 

EVE; Anyway. It's an opportunity to get all the family together again. And we haven't seen the LORD for ages. 

ADAM: (Sighs with satisfaction) Yeah, he's awesome. And always so nice about it all. 

EVE: Always the same: he wants us to choose. Isn't that thoughtful? 

(Both sigh contentedly)

ADAM: All right, Eve. Have it your way. It is nice to have a big traditional family get together. I'll put the pudding on soon. And you know what the Serpent said to me the other day? 

EVE: What? 

ADAM: "Adam, ol' mate", he says, "Have I ever told you about this amazing new diet they've just invented?"

EVE: Who's "they"? 

ADAM: That's what I was wondering all this time! Anyway, he says, "Adam", he says, "It's called fructovorianism, and".... 

END

A visual explainer of Christmas, to help clear up any difficulties

Santa

Satan

Good Santa

Good Satan

Bad Santa

Bad Satan

Santana

Thank you for your time. 

COVID Christmas carols

I saw three ships come sailing in

In lockdown breach, in lockdown breach, 

I saw three ships come sailing in

In lockdown breach in the morning. 

***

Hark, the Herald Angels sing - 

Stay inside and do nothing!

***

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, 

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Partying would be a folly,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Even singing could defeat us

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Keep your distance, several metres - 

Fa la la la la so very far. 

***

I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus 

So I reported the bastards immediately to the local authorities.

***

Maria durch ein Dornwald ging - 

Ausgangssperre!

Weed in the garden

One thing you can always appreciate about Enid Blyton is her thoroughgoing commitment to architectural realism.

 

"If you could plant a garden entirely out of weeds," I asked the Baron, "What would they be?" 

"What is a weed?" asked the Baron. She's good at answering questions with questions like that. 

Anyway, notwithstanding her epistemologising my epistemologising (epistomology is an ancient word on this blog for 'what you you know about what you know', which in my case is not much) I went on with my little project*. There would be -

- Blackberries (AKA the most awesome berry ever) to line the fence; 

- Wild roses along the path;

- Apple trees providing shade (yes, these have been classified as a weed); 

- Flowerbeds of dandelion and capeweed, Patterson's Curse, oxalis, and clover; 

- instead of a front lawn, a field of tall Queen Anne's Lace (with some Hemlock mixed in just to keep potential thieves on their toes); 

- And a pleasant nature strip consisting entirely of mushrooms and slime moulds. Okay, I'm not sure if they're technically weeds but we need more slime mould gardens, don't you think? Thanks. I love it when you rhetorically agree with me like that.    

*similar in many respects to my other ongoing dream project, constructing a zoo peopled entirely out of domestic animals.

Crime, drug taking, cults rampant in Spoonville - WTFF News

Town tearing itself apart

 It started as an innocent hippy colony, a getaway from the big city - now it seems that the once-idyllic life of small town Spoonville could be ripped apart by warring gangs, drug taking, crime, cult leaders, and spatulas run amok. 

Cult

How could it have come to this for the previously friendly village of Spoonville? Part of the answer lies with the shady history of the charismatic leaders who first set out to form this spoon colony. One of them was the famous "Mr Big", so named because he was a Big Spoon. Mr Big lead a sizeable contingent of his fellow spoons to settle in Spoonville in the early days. But what did his followers really know about his past? "He said he was just an ordinary spoon, who used to stir cakes," says one former member of the now notorious CHURCH OF MR BIG SPOON. "But he was really being used to stir the pot." 

Mr Big, cult leader - was he just used to stir the pot, or was he actually used to stir the pot? 

Racism

Divergent sects of the once tolerant Spoonville community soon emerged. Some were strict cutlery drawer separatists, insisting that forks and even ladles be kept out. Others insisted there was nothing special about spoons, and anyhow, they'd prefer the company of a salad fork to some of their fellow spoons. Simmering tensions soon flared to outright hostility when a family of sporks moved in - the Spoon Separatist Movement felt it was an attempt by the forks to infiltrate their town. 

Are you a fork, or are you a spoon? Make up your mind! 

Violence, prostitution, drugs

 

Driving around the streets of Spoonville now, the signs of urban decay are everywhere. Gangs of knives face off at the street corner. In one shady lit alleway, lie a couple - spooning. Meanwhile, a spatula sits hunched over a teaspoon, holding a flame under it.... a sure sign of opiate use. It is a sad sight. It seems for many inhabitants of this once proud rural village, there is no hope for the future. 

A sad sight. 

FACT CHECK

(Found this in my notebook last night...)

 

FACT CHECK! 

Hey DAWK-ins! DAWK-ins! You're such a DORK, DAWK-ins! Dooooooooorkins! 

Crying, the little boy Richard Dawkins ran home, away from the bullies making his life hell. He'd show them. He'd show them all! 

Well, that little boy studied hard at school, goyt good grades, and went to a good college - and went on to invent CHARLES DARWIN'S THEORY OF RELATIVITY! It just goes to show you, even the smallest of us can make a difference - if we want to! 

FACT CHECK: Richard Dawkins did not invent Darwin's theory of relativity. He wrote Einstein's Origin of Species. 

Apropos of nothing

Not relating to anything at all.

Brave Hippolyta fought a statue,
Brave Hippolyta joined the fray,
In her eyes a righteous fire,
In her hands a can of spray,
Bravely fought a large stone object,
And then she bravely ran away.
Brave, brave, brave Hippolyta, 
Brave Hippolyta ran away. 

Things got pretty rowdy at the Trades Hall in 1620

Union Chants of the 17th Century 

What's outrageous?
Death's dark wages!
What's disgusting?
Unchaste lusting!
What's outrageous?
Death's dark wages!
What's disgusting?
Unchaste lusting!

***

One! Two! Three! Four!
What are we all fighting for?
Five! Six! Seven! Eight!
Satan's power to subjugate!

***

Hey hey! Ho ho!
Lewd wassailing's got to go!
Hey hey! Ho ho!
Lewd wassailing's got to go!

The new adventures of Abbott and Costello in Quarantine Land

SCENE: A small city apartment. BUD ABBOTT is busy standing on a small step ladder hanging a row of hand-folded Japanese lanterns across the room when LOU COSTELLO bursts in through the door. 

COSTELLO: (Shouting) Hey, Abbott!

ABBOTT: (Does a sudden startle, almost causing the whole row of paper lanterns to collapse) Do you gotta make me jump like that, Lou? It's taken me ages to make this house look nice, and you bust in here and the whole place is gonna collapse!

COSTELLO: I'm sorry, Bud, I'm sorry.... it's just chaos out there! Absolute chaos!

ABBOTT: What, people are breaching the quarantine conditions already? Don't they know they could catch this new flu?

COSTELLO: No! Worse! Nobody out there at all! I could hardly find my way home! I.... I don't think I'm ready to go on my own to the candy store, Bud! I get lost without my mama!

ABBOTT: All right, all right, that's fine, just help me up with these, would you?

COSTELLO: Hey, sure.... (climbs up step ladder beside ABBOTT and begins helping him hang the lanterns up) Say.... why do we got to hang these things up, anyway?

ABBOTT: Why? Why, we're celebrating, Lou!

COSTELLO: Cele.... celery.... celerious.... cerebellum....  Sybil Shep..... what?

ABBOTT: Celebrate, have a party, you know?

COSTELLO: Oh, a party! Why?

ABBOTT: My COVID test results came back, Lou! I'm negative.

COSTELLO: WHAT? Are you positive?

ABBOTT: No, I'm negative.

COSTELLO: You're absolutely positive about that?

ABBOTT: Yeah yeah, I'm absolutely positive that I'm negative!

COSTELLO: What? You're positive or you're negative?

ABBOTT: I'm negative!

COSTELLO: Yeah yeah Bud, you're always very negative.

ABBOTT: Say, now you're getting it!

COSTELLO: Getting it? I'm not getting it! No way am I getting it! No sirree Bob, you stay away from me if you've got it!

ABBOTT: Well, I don't! I'm negative!

COSTELLO: Yeah yeah, that's what I always tells ya, you're so negative, don't do this Lou, don't do that, you don't let me do anything!

ABBOTT: What, are you some kind of.... (hits COSTELLO round the head).... I'm negative. For COVID.

COSTELLO: I KNOW you're negative, Bud, but you gotta tell me, or I won't understand.... does ya got it or does ya not got it?

ABBOTT: I DON'T GOT IT, LOU!

COSTELLO: All right, all right, no need to shout in my face! (They continue hanging up the lanterns) Say, ah, Bud, I forgot to tell you, while I was out I went to see the doctor too. He gave me this letter. (Takes out of his pocket) Your test results for Corona have returned, and we regret to inform you that you have tested positive. (Beams) See? Isn't that right? I always told you I was a positive person!

ABBOTT: (Jumps, falls of ladder) (Looks at COSTELLO aghast) 

COSTELLO: Say, why are you looking at me like that, Bud?

ABBOTT: Oh, that's just the absolute limit! Now you've got it, I've definitely got it too!

COSTELLO: That's it, Bud, that's the way to be positive!

ABBOTT: Come here! (Pulls COSTELLO off ladder, who grabs line of paper lanterns to help him stay up, somehow manages to pull down the ceiling with the lanterns) 

COSTELLO: (Wailing, as ABBOTT beats him about the head, and the ceiling continues to fall about them) What did I do, Bud, what did I do!

END 

Mothers Day Poem 2020

O mummy O mummy 

O thank you O mummy

For you just were the best when I burst from your chest and infested the rest through the eyeballs no less

O mummy - 

O mummy O mummy

O thank you O mummy 

Now the land is possessed unto your dark behest and will perform your request until the detestable Ul'Qhon manifests and ingests half the humans* before sending the rest to slave in the mines - 

O mummy. 

*With a light lemon zest.

An announcement: this year, due to long-service leave, the Easter Bunny will be replaced by Frank The Evil Bunny From Donnie Darko

Well, due to much-anticipated long-service leave, the Easter Bunny won't be on duty this year, but don't worry kids! The fun will still continue! Because this year, Frank The Evil Bunny From Donnie Darko will be filling in!

Frank with friends!

Frank The Evil Bunny From Donnie Darko (who prefers to be just known by his first name, Frank) has plenty of previous job experience including Appearing in Donnie's Hallucinations, Showing Donnie Where The Gun Is, and Leading Donnie to Certain Death, and is looking forward to his new role, which will involve mostly Giving Eggs To Children. 

"I really look forward to bringing my experiences to the new role and invigorating it with new life," says Frank. 

Yay!  

THE SEVEN STAGES OF ISOLATION

- Isonation: national quarantine.

- Isostation: the place you choose to be isolated.

- Isocation: attempting to treat your isolation as a holiday.

- Isostration: increasing frustration at being caught up in isolation.

- Isoccasion: attempting to distract yourself from the isostration at your isostation by having a big fancy event. At home. By yourself. Geeze, man, at least put on some fancier underpants!

- Isosperation: HOW LONG WILL THIS GO ON FOR?

- Isoblation: giving in and oblating yourself to the household Gods you discover while in isolation.

The sayings of the socially distanced

You scratch my back, I'll bloody deck ya.

You're going on my toilet roll of honour!

Let's join together in staying apart!

That's so wonderful, I could kiss you - in full HAZMAT gear.

Remember, a bird flu in the hand is worth two in the bush!

I'll have my people speak to your people. Over Zoom. In full body condoms.

Why don't you come over to my place sometime when I'm out and never coming home?

Two's company, three's FUCKING ILLEGAL.

How nice to see your good self.... isolating.

There's a couple of kangaroos loose in your top paddock, and they're breaching all social gathering protocols, WTF, I'm calling the cops now.

Taking a trip to the Great Indoors!

It's been taken out of my hands. With frequent use of an approved soap-based sanitiser.

Girl, this is the night when two become one - while maintaining a 1.5 metres social distance between ourselves at all times.

That's straight from the bat, into the pangolin!

An invitation to a reading

POETRY TO KEEP YOUR BREATH AWAY

There will be a dead poetry reading on Tuesday night in the rubble of the old theatre. Whether you’re a corpse, a few shreds of bone, or still in the act of decomposing, this reading is for you! The night will be deadstreamed at time of performance to the whole graveyard, for anyone, who, for reasons of nescience, putrescence, or just general decay, are unable to attend. But, after all, if you haven’t been to a dead reading, have you truly died at all?

PLUS: Prizes for any reader brave enough to die on stage for the first time!

Country art galleries

A piece of music - something by Ross Edwards, probably his Dawn Mantras - came on the radio last night that suddenly reminded me of all the country art galleries I must have been in. I grew up in a country town, and what you seem to do growing up in country towns, mostly, is visit other country towns. Mum being Mum, with an interest in all things cultural, in all those country towns, we ended up in country town art galleries.

What strange places they were! Often built on money from the time of the Hawke or Keating governments, their architecture was completely out of place with the rest of the town. And they were absolutely nothing like the more homely arts and crafts centres in such towns, where you might go to a local art fair and see paintings of trees, or buy a few bottles of jam, or pass by some plates which look like they wouldn't be out of place in Dame Edna's crockery collection, or cartoons from a local artist, or to see furniture made out of odd bits of lacquered-up redgum. Walking into a country art gallery was an entirely different experience; instead of that cosy clutter you got a bizarre minimalism: a sparse white wall with a tiny abstract work in the middle. A huge room with an installation or a projection at one end and a seat in the middle. Not a seat you'd want to sit in, with a back or anything like that - why don't art gallery seats ever have backs? Just this black leather affair. Who decided this was the look to have in a country town, where the aesthetic is mostly chintz and crockery that rattles and doilies everywhere*?

And there'd be art gallery attendants who seem to come with the art gallery. (They must have! They'd look out of place if they ever ventured out into the town). One often got the impression they were installed in place with the art gallery. They'd sit around behind desks looking all wispy and important and listen to, well, pieces by Ross Edwards.

As for the art - it was mostly landscapes. This was doubly weird: looking at them, you had the experience of standing in a building in a landscape looking at paintings about that same landscape, the only thing being the painting never actually looked like the landscape it was supposed to be about. In those galleries the paintings never looked like the things they were about. In country arts and craft galleries, people painted trees and horses because they wanted their paintings to be about trees and horses. In the country art galleries, if there was ever a picture of a tree or a horse it was probably supposed to represent the disjointed experience of artificial modern living and its disconnect from nature or the repressive effect of the colonialist patriarchy on the Indigenous mythos. Sometimes I don't think the artists were even sure what they wanted their paintings to be about, which did rather lead one to the suspicion that it mightn't have been about anything interesting at all.

That Ross Edwards piece, then, bought it all to mind. For some reason a particular image came to mind of the first floor in a two storey art gallery, with me wandering around looking at the - mostly incomprehensible - abstracts. Where could it have been? Wagga? Griffith? Mildura? Dubbo? And then, I suppose, we all walked out into the heat of the day and drove through hours of yellow grass fields until we got home. That is the Ross Edwards epoch in Australian cultural history, really - that whole courageous attempt by composers to write a music perfectly in tune with these landscapes. It combined didgeridoo and choir in a new agey way, unfolded in a slow, reverential fashion, represented peculiarities of the Australian environment in ways which I had not thought possible.
I have to confess it annoyed me a lot.

And yet, you know what? Earlier last night another Ross Edwards piece had come on: A flight of sunbirds. Two pianos, simple and playable music. It filled the whole room in just the way that music should. Charming and reverential, in all the right ways and places. Not the sort of music you'd get in an art gallery, at all.

I'm not sure what I wanted to say about all this but, just like an abstract artist, I suppose I have anyway. So I'd better end it there.

*I do like a nice doily.

Merry Punctilious Christmas, Everybody!

Ah, isn't it nice to indulge in Christmas traditions at this time of year. Let me share with you one, that jolly old Christmas melody:

The Punctilious Carol

The annual festive observance
Is fast approaching now -
Hang decorative implements
From a dying Abies bough!
But woe betide the pair beneath
Parasitic vegetation -
Our custom of fertility
Demands their salutation!
Take up the proverb now and sing -
Hey ring a ding ding.

The annual festive observance
Is getting very near -
We sing the note arrangements
We sang this time last year.
We mark a birth in Bethlehem,
An Aramaic Jew -
But no-one believes that now or we
Feel awkward if we do.
Therefore take up the words and sing -
Hey ring a ding ding.

The annual festive observance
Is very almost here.
Let yeast infuse your beverage
With ethanolic cheer!
Our mood is positivity,
Or outwardly at least -
So all as one let us join in
The carbohydrate feast.
In polytonal chords now sing
Hey ring a ding ding.

The annual festive observance
Is almost at the station;
We have just passed the maximum
Of solar declination -
Our glands are working overtime,
But half a world away
From what we're told, it's rather cold
Upon this festal day.
And so we sing the thing we sing -
Hey ring a ding ding.

Sprog blog

Well, it’s finally happened. The egg the Baron has been sitting on has hatched at last! I’m just off to fetch some starter crumble, but in the meantime, I’ll leave you with a picture of this exciting fermentation in progress. Now.... if only I could work out a way to flip her right-side up...

Chunder of wonder

TIPS BY FASHION EXPERT RITA BUTTHOSE

Well girls, the big day is almost here, the one day of the year when you will go to the Melbourne Cup and get shitfaced and then vomit all over everything while some skank from the Herald Sun photographs you. But have you really prepared for this enough? Are you ready for the moment when you vomit all over everything while some skank for the Herald Sun photographs you? Here are four Etiquette Tips for the Fashion Forward you might like to consider before heading out for the big spray, er, I mean big day tomorrow.

1. Remember to vomit in the rubbish bin, not the recycling. 
I mean, really. Let's get the basics out of the way first. This is just basic courtesy.

2. Colour code your vomits. 
I can't tell you how many times I've seen a boring, bland array of beige vomit after beige vomit at this famous affair. Is it really so much trouble to colour code your upchucks? I think not. Remember, basic fashion rules still apply: use contrasting colours (but not too much), and sometimes just the right component - a strategically-placed chunk of carrot, for instance - will really draw the whole ensemble together. Try not to match the colour of your vomit to your boyfriend's outfit (he'll probably do that anyway, in that unconscious way men have).

3. Strategise
Now really - is there any point in getting ready for the day when you're going to get shitfaced and then vomit all over everything while some skank from the Herald Sun photographs you if the skank from the Herald Sun can't even see you properly amongst all the mud and crap and stuff. With that attitude, you probably shouldn't even bother. No, you have to really select the right patch of lawn or the right tent to offset the delicate yet melodious timbres of your cry of Ruth. And if it's a young Arabian prince striding out of the Emirates tent, all the better!

4. Social messages
You've got to think of the messages you're sending out when you vomit all over someone. Sure, you may not mean to make a boy think you like him when you chunder all over his manly chiselled jaw, but might he? Be careful who you chuck up all over, is all I'm saying. Unless it's a young Arabian prince striding out of the Emirates tent, what could possibly go wrong if you chuck up all over him?

Well, that's it, girls - have fun!

Five alternatives to unsolicited dick pics

Men of the World! Instead of sending unsolicited dick pics to the Women of the World, why not try these saucy alternatives?

- Unsolicited duck pics!

- Unsolicited chick pics!
(In case you run out of ducks, baby chickens are always good).

- Unsolicited dock pics.
(Who doesn't love a good pier?)

- Unsolicited ticks!
✔

- Unsolicited brick picks!



(Sample unsolicited duck pic. Because, er, you didn't solicit for it.)

So never say I never do anything nice for you. By the way, here's a previous poem I wrote on the subject, you really should pay me for this, oh wait, you can. 

The Unstoppable Unstoppable

Last week before German class I found myself dreaming about asking my Finnish teacher about the 15 Finnish case systems. I don't even have a Finnish teacher - but there are 15 Finnish case systems, more or less*, so my dream was not completely lying. As a result, I found myself before the German class engaged in the productive activity of researching Finnish declination. Due to the ludicrously high number of grammatical cases in Finnish, as you can imagine, it was a rich and productive and fertile activity.

This week, German class being on tonight, what did I find myself dreaming about last night but Swedish grammar. What is it with my mind and the Far North? I was in fact deeply involved in a dream conversation with the Baron about it all, and even managed to discover a completely new item of grammar: 'unstoppables'. Linguists may quibble and argue that such items do not exist at all, but in my dream we were quite sure about it. Here's how my dream conversation went down:

ME: So, how about after I finish learning German I learn the other Germanic languages Swedish and Norwegian and Icelandic and become an expert in the languages of the far north? 

BARON: Swedish is a hard language to translate into English, though. 

ME: Oh? Why's that? 

BARON: It's because of the unstoppable. The Swedish unstoppable is different to the English unstoppable. 

ME: How's that? 

BARON: Oh, well, it's - you see.... it just is. 

ME: What is an unstoppable, anyway? 

BARON: It's kind of hard to define. 

ME: Hm. Can you give me an example of an unstoppable. 

BARON: I.... um.... well... 

And there the conversation stopped (maybe because we'd forgotten to include an English unstoppable). I however remained convinced that a great and hitherto unrevealed point about world grammar lay just beyond my grasp.

As you can imagine, I'm really looking forward to my dream before next German class. Maybe, having previously invented a Finnish teacher and a new item of Swedish and English grammar, next time I'll invent a whole new language. Who knows? By the way, this blog is apparently my dream journal now. Please notify your local Freudian.

*It depends who you ask. Personally, I think, as a democratic modern language Finnish should remodify its case system so there is one case for every new Finnish speaker. That way nobody feels like they're missing out on anything. I shall be forwarding this proposal to Helsinki University shortly. 

New exciting forms of argument!

Argumentum ad hominem - attacking the person, not the argument.

ad homonym - attacking the person's name.

ad homophone - arguing with a gay telephone.

ad homophony - using music to attempt to bring harmony to our fractured moden world.

ad Eminen - winning arguments rap-battle style.

add M&M - bribing the opposition with chocolate - also, yes please.

Shouting random letters at football fans

Being an old sort of codger now, I've been going to the Dan O'Connell Saturday pub poetry sessions for well nigh on 10 years. It's an impressive stretch of time for any pub poetry session to be going (the Dan poetry's been going for over twice that long, a quarter of a century in fact), but even more impressive is that somehow the old joint keeps this up week after week. Even - to the surprise and bemusement of most Melbourne locals - during the AFL Grand Final, for most of those 25 years at least. This act always seemed a little strange, even sacrilegious - the bar would often be packed with punters there to watch the football and a bunch of poets would turn up. Sometimes, it's true, they put us all in the beer garden. On one memorable occasion, Geoff Lemon was the feature at exactly the same time as his team were playing in the final - consequently, and it has to be admitted rather apologetically on his part, he seemed rather more interested in the events going on on television than the poets around him. Such was the strangeness of this yearly occurrence that once, I even wrote a series of 'Team songs for writing' and found myself shouting them at a pub full of grand final viewers and a motley bunch of poets. I even got them to spell out the name - 'Give me an A! Give me an R! etc' - of an Ancient Greek writer or two. And there were rousing (well, rousing for me at least) odes to punctuation:

Well there she was a writin' in her book

(Singin' semi-colons apostrophes and dots)

Usin' commas hyphens quotation marks full-stops

(Singin' semi-colons apostrophes and dots)

Upper case! (Upper case!)

Lower case! (Lower case!)

Upper case lower case punctuation is so fine!

(Singin' semi-colons apostrophes and dots)

(Those team songs for writing, and a few other footy-related pieces are in my latest book, Hangover Music, by the way. You should totally buy a copy!)

Good times, good times. But all good times must come to an end, and this was no exception. Poetry at the Dan for this week is on a Sunday (weirdly it all feels less sacrilicious than having it on a Grand Final Saturday). It's not quite the same doing it without yelling baffling metaphors at a crowd of indifferent or even hostile footy fans, but life is about change.

In the meantime, living in Melbourne and all, I even adopted a football team, in that way you do. I did it either because they were just about the worst team and not likely to win a final any time soon, or because they had the best song. That team has since had the bad grace to win the grand final twice, one of those occasions being this afternoon. But their song, I am pleased to say, has remained consistently awesome. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was the song.

To conclude, and on an unrelated note, here is a poem, of sorts.

Is Tigger the Tigger that's best with the ball? 
Is Tigger the best of them all?
For Eeyore is down, and Pooh Bear is out 
And Christopher Robin is aged and stout - 
Is Tigger the tiggerest Tigger of all? 

See Tigger go tigger all over the hall, 
With vigorous, tiggerous call - 
There can be no doubt, he's winning the bout, 
It's a riot, a rort, an absolute rout - 
Yes, Tigger's the tigger that stands proud and tall - 
For Tiggers the best Tigger out of them all! 

I'm sorry, we're all out of Sturm und Drang, would you care for the lemonade?

Okay, so you're in the audience and sitting down to watch the third scene of Richard Wagner's cool and exciting new opera, Die Walküre. The music strikes up and you already feel as if you have drunken the mead of Valhalla. As the curtain rises, you see the 'Gipfel eines Felsenberges' (the peak of a rocky cliff) right next to a 'Tannenwald' (fir forest). There's a 'Blitzesglanz' (a flash of lightning), and framed in this dramatic tableau you see a Valkyrie on top of the mountain on a HORSE, over which lies 'ein erschlagener Krieger' - a slain warrior. (Because it's the 19th century and nobody's budget extends that far, even Richard Wagner's, the horse is probably made out of wood and creaks as it's drawn here and there on stage, but what the hell - the orchestra just plays a little louder at those moments). The point is - this is just ludicrously romantic! - gigantic mountains next to vast forests, lightning flashes in the clouds, GODDESSES ON HORSIES! This is as cool, as nonsensical, and as utterly necessary as the elephants in Aida.

Just kidding, you're sitting in the audience for a modern production of Walküre and instead of galloping around on the mountain tops out of the clouds, the Valkyries are shifting bodies around in a shabby old pile of rock like so many pieces of furniture in a rental house.

Bring back the horses!



(Post a follow on from a discussion with Steve.)

Excuses for hipsters

Sorry I'm late, I was busy teaching yoga to my goat.

I was crocheting individualised bonnets for my bees' feet. This winter has been cold, you know.

Excuse me, my beard got caught in my fixie.

It was an emergency! My tweed jacket clashed with the Weltanschauung.

My craft brew and I were undergoing an individualised counselling session to help us achieve self-actualisation as a couple.

I was bookbinding a recipe book with twine made out of my cats' fur.

So sorry! I had trouble fitting Buttons, my alpaca, in the train on the way here. Did we miss anything?

My kefir had emotional issues.

I got lost in my beard and couldn't find my way out.

We ran out of kale! It was an emergency!

A little Bildung is a dangerous thing

German cliche poem 

Sehnsucht for Schadenfreude! 

My Weltschmerz smarts today.

Perhaps it's just the Zeitgeist, 

But my Trauma's all tun weh. 

Perhaps I'll learn to like it - 

Go back to Kindergarten, 

Where die Welt is ohne Schmerz, 

All Freude, and no Schaden. 

No, this Klima's not so prima, 

And my Angst has taken fright - 

I think I'll have a Wanderung

In my Waldeinsamkeit.