Friday, October 31, 2008

Daylight saving zombies - part III

I had struggled under the weight of serious octopus induced hallucinations thanks to the workings of Teh 'Rage Cohen, only to find myself standing alone before the thrashing sea on the North Mole in old Fremantle Town.

The smell of sardines and diesel hung heavy in the air.

The weariness had set in and my limbs were savaged by the winds like poorly secured corflute signage at a corporate land sale.

In the distance I could see a vehicle painted in stripes, like a tiger - or was it flames? - but there was no sign of the barge and no sign of The Worst of Perth car and its rummy occupants, The Lazy Aussie, Skink and Frank.

I can't tell you precisely what happened next, except to say that a large hypodermic was thrust into my neck and the last sounds I heard were a cackling laugh carried on a Sambuca breath, breathing out the words, 'Say hello to the She-Ra from us...'

This sordid account of the dream state that followed comes from the foetid pen of none other than The Lazy Aussie, who truly does know The Worst of Perth... (language warning!)

'Picture if you can Cookster', said Rolly, struggling to remove his boot, 'A man driven by blind stupidity. A man whose spiritual blinds hang faded in tattered strips like Bodz Tanning Salon. A man whose cow of the soul has udders distended hideously like an inflated rubber glove...'

Cookster snickered. 'Like, five versions of Tiny Pinders knob?'

Rolly paused a moment in the struggle to remove his boot. 'If you prefer. Now imagine if that glove was expecting to be inflated beyond the physical limits of the structure of the fabric at a particular time?' With a tremendous effort Rolly's boot flies off.

'Im not with you', said Cookster.

'OK, let me put it this way', said Rolly, fishing an imaginary stone from the toe. 'Imagine if those five Pinder knobs were expecting relief at a particular time, say after a Wildcats game, and then they were told they wouldnt get that relief until an hour later?'

'Told? So you'd be talking into Tiny's knob?'

'Tap tap, is this thing working?'

'Just forget Pinder's cock!' snapped Rolly.

'But you said...'

'Never mind what I said. You're in PR right?'

'Yes. A house is not a home.'

'In that case, let me put it into words you can understand. C#@t kini.'

'Ahh. OK. Right.'

'With daylight saving, the c#@t kinis hanging in Stripper's World window would fade much faster," Rolly explained.

'Dont you think you're moving too fast to the punch line in this dialogue?' said Cookster. 'Shouldn't there be more Pinder cock talk?'

'No', said Rolly. 'I have to go to the toilet. Wine exhausted.'

To be continued...

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Buggy challenge launches Handa Open

This morning's launch of the Handa Open golf tournament at the Fleet Steps in Sydney's Royal Botanic Gardens saw four of the game's Legends battling it out in a Golf Buggy Challenge.

With a grey looking Opera House and Harbour Bridge for a backdrop, Stewart Ginn, David Merriman, Terry Gale and Handa Open defending Champion Wayne Grady, put the pedal to the metal in an epic challenge...

Okay, maybe not epic, but with Merriman only missing out on last year's largish purse due to a caddy mistake - let's not go there - any chance to get one over Grady was taken with relish.

Golf fans can catch this fearsome foursome and a whole host of other golfing greats in the Handa Open being played at the Concord Golf Club from Friday, 31 October to Sunday, 2 November. Entry is by gold coin donation.

Daylight saving zombies - part II

The story continues, as told by the Herring affected, but often brilliant scribe David 'Teh Rage' Cohen, author of Rottobloggo: To make sense of the many non-sensical references - of the non literary variety that is - you'll need to visit The Worst of Perth... for herein doth the secret lie...

It was a dark and stormy evening; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Fremantle that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the scented candles that struggled against the darkness.

Through one of the obscurest quarters of the beautiful port city, and among haunts little loved by the gentlemen and women of the police, a man, evidently from the distant suburb of Floreat, was wending his solitary way. He stopped twice or thrice at different bong shops and houses of a description correspondent with the appearance of the quartier in which they were situated,--and tended inquiry for some article or another which did not seem easily to be met with. All the answers he received were couched in the negative ("F#@k off", were the plain'tive cries); and as he turned from each door he muttered to himself, in no very elegant phraseology, his disappointment and discontent: "C#*ts".

At length, at one house, the landlord, a sturdy sniper, after rendering the same reply the inquirer had hitherto received, added,--"But if this vill do as vell, Cookie, it is quite at your sarvice!" Pausing reflectively for a moment, Cookie responded, that he thought the thing proffered might do as well; and thrusting it into his ample pocket he strode away with as rapid a motion as the wind and rain would allow. He soon came to a nest of low and dingy buildings, at the entrance to which, in half-effaced characters was written "Fremantle Markets." Having at the most conspicuous of these buildings, a boutique brewery or fusion-food restaurant through the half-closed windows of which blazed out in ruddy comfort the beams of the hospitable hearth, he knocked hastily at the door. He was admitted by a lady of a certain age, and endowed with a comely rotundity of face and person.

"Hast got it, Cookie?" said she quickly, as she closed the door on the guest.

"Noa, noa! not exactly--but as I thinks as ow . . ."

"Pish off, you fool!" cried the woman interrupting him, peevishly. "Vy, it is no use desaving me. You knows you has only stepped from my boosing ken to another, and you has not been arter the book at all. So there's the poor cretur a-raving and a-dying, and you . . ."

"Let I speak!" interrupted Cookie in his turn. "I tells you I vent first to Poor Lisa’s, who, I knows, chops the whiners morning and evening to the young ladies, and I axes there for a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, and she says, says she, 'I 'as only nunchuks but you'll get a RPG, I thinks, as Bedford Crackpot’s,--the deranged, as we knows.' So I goes to Bedford’s, and he says, says he, 'I 'as no call for weapons--'cause vy?--I 'as a call vithout; but mayhap you'll be a-getting it at the bong shop hover the vay,--'cause vy?--the bong seller’ll be damned!" So I goes hover the vay, and the bong retailer says, says he, 'I 'as not a RPG: but I 'as a dirty bomb laced with canola, and mayhap the poor creturs mayn't see the difference.' So I takes the dirty bomb, Mrs. Poor Lisa, and here they be surely!--and how's poor Lazy Aussie?"

"Fearsomo! Men are beasts! He'll not be over the night, I'm a-athinking."

"Vell, I'll track up the ammo!"

So saying, Cookie ascended a doorless staircase, across the entrance of which a chunk of corflute, stretched angularly from the wall to the chimney, afforded a kind of screen; and presently he stood within a chamber, which the dark and painful genius of the bloke who painted the pic of the kneeling woman and the Alsation might have delighted to portray. The walls were white-washed, and at sundry places strange figures and grotesque characters had been traced in burnt orange by some mirthful inmate, in such sable outline as the end of a smoked herring stick or the edge of a piece of charcoal is wont to produce. The wan and flickering light afforded by a farting candle gave a sort of grimness and menace to these achievements of pictorial art, especially as they more than once received embellishment from portraits of Brendon Grylls, such as he is accustomed to be drawn. A low fire burned gloomily in a sooty grate; and on the hob hissed "the still small voice" of a kick-arse pan of mandrax. On a round deal-table were two vials, a cracked cup, a broken spoon of some dull metal, and upon two or three mutilated chairs were scattered various articles of female attire. On another table, placed below a high, narrow, shutterless casement (athwart which, instead of a curtain, bloodied mayoral chains had been loosely hung, and now waved fitfully to and fro in the gusts of wind that made easy ingress through many a chink and cranny), were a looking glass, sundry appliances of the toilet, a box of cricketers’ boxes, a few ornaments of more show than value; and a watch, the regular and calm click of which produced that indescribably painful feeling which, we fear, many of our readers who have heard the ravings of the Daylight Savings Murder Posse can easily recall.

To be continued...

Monday, October 27, 2008

Daylight saving zombies attack!

It happened on Sunday morning. The world as we knew it was gone and a dark pall had fallen over suburbia like a blanket over a bird cage.

I stumbled outside to find out where the sun had gone. Yes it was morning, but the harsh glare that would normally prise my lids asunder and prod the sleeping baby until he screamed for his bottle was curiously missing. It had shrunk away and was hiding in the shadows like a dog licking its wounds.

But I had been tricked before. The cunning beast which is the coming of day in Western Australia does not suffer fools gladly. It will tear the eyes from your very sockets and sear your flesh before you have time to mutter, 'where is the 30+?'

I donned my glasses and faux-quokka baseball cap, put the poodle on a leash and ventured into the street. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Sensing danger I grabbed a five iron from the garage and wrapped the dog's leash tighter around my wrist. I was like Will Smith in that awful armageddon movie set in New York, except instead of an alsation and a pump action shotgun, I had a yappy poodle and a golf club.

The cause of my paranoia became evident immediately. It was pre-empted by a wailing sound, followed by large groups of people floundering about and clawing at their eyes, shouting, 'I can't see', 'Who turned out the lights?' 'Oh my Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?'

They appeared to be blinded, unable to see where they were going... staggering on hands and knees, or scuttling along crab-like, bouncing off trees, tripping on gutters. Joggers, dog walkers, retirees and empty nesters with nothing better to do. Individuals, some gathered in groups, others dragged by pets.

I grabbed a flannel-hatted senior by the collar of his cardigan and demanded he tell me what had caused this nightmare vision before me. 'Tell me old man or you shall feel the blunt end of my Ping!'

He cowered in fear, his eyeballs rolling back into his emaciated skull. His lips trembled. 'Don't you know? Don't you see what they have done? They have taken away our light... our shining beacon. Without it we are doomed. Doomed to wander the early morning streets as the daylight saving damned - wretched, sightless, aimless beasts.'

I threw him into the undergrowth in disgust. 'Get a grip man! The day is here - look around you... is this not light enough for you?'

But it was too late, he had stumbled into the path of oncoming traffic and disappeared in a puff of brown woollen fibres.

'You've had it too good for too long!' I screamed at them. 'You must adjust to the light and learn that you don't need to eat dinner at 5.00pm and be in bed before the final sirens sound on the closing credits of The Bill!

'There is life after Parkinson. It's okay to stay in bed until 6.00am! There is NOTHING to fear...'

But again, too late. Blind eyes and deaf ears. Rather than embrace the change they gathered in even tighter groups, huddled around radios sharing mobile phones to call talkback radio and wail down the line to Hutchison and Beaumont - whoever was willing to listen.

And in time the savagery began. Within days these rabid packs would begin wandering the early morning streets in search of the 'Savers', chanting 'Death to the Twilight' and offering up sacrafices to the 'God of Early Morning Walks'.

Meanwhile, on Rottnest Island, David 'Teh Outrage' Cohen was mobilising forces to take out these vast zombie hoards, but there was much planning to be done. He rolled his first herring spliff of the day, kicked off his deck shoes and leaned back to look out across Thompson Bay to the mainland beyond.

'You f*#kers shall rue the day...'

As the blue smoke curled languidly across the room to join the sea breeze snaking across the salt lakes, making music in the pines, he eyed the cream bun in the pantry and punched 1300-COOKSTER into the Nokia.

'Teh Rage here Cookster. The barge will meet you at the North Mole at 6.30pm once the zombies are safely in bed. You bring the golf clubs and I'll supply the octopus. Tell The Lazy Aussie to pick up Skink and Frank in The Worst of Perth Combi on the way - I have a plan.' be continued.

Shit service...

Okay, okay, I'm sorry, but something stinks about this whole 'turd in the icecream' drama that took place at the Coogee Bay Hotel.

Check out this footage of Jessica and Steve Whyte discussing the incident and look out for the bit where she starts talking about trying to beat the kids to the hard chocolate layer at the bottom, only to find out "Oh my god, they've served me shit!"

I dare you to watch this footage and maintain a straight face when Steve describes how he took the bowl to the maitre'd and said, "excuse me, but you've served us shit... yes, that's the word I used."

And the copper who tells them, "that smells like baby shit" ["baby poo" - steve interjects] only for Jessica to add, "... he obviously doesn't have kids because that wasn't baby shit."

Also a rib tickler is the "middle child" abusing the staff and running around screaming, "you fed my Mummy poo!" Is this some kind of reality TV stunt?

It's appalling, no doubt about it, but it's the Whyte's last comments about how "we didn't complain that much" which suggests the frozen faeces fiasco took place after some kind of incident with staff.

Now we've all heard the horror stories about what staff do with your food when you complain, and while I don't suggest for a minute that this was retribution by an aggrieved staff member, you can imagine someone thinking that a 'complimentary' bowl of poo icecream would be a pretty darned effective payback.

The clincher would be if they were the Brown family, rather than the Whytes.

Be interesting to see how this one plays out, but I've heard the government has called for a probe. No, seriously.

Friday, October 24, 2008

A bath, 756 balls and a semi-naked golfer

Phew! One of the most challenging launch events I've held to date has just come to a succesful end, despite the 1,100 golf balls we ordered ending up in Queensland (instead of Nedlands), the weather turning nasty and much angst over the arrival of a claw footed bathtub...

Yes indeed, it's all well and good to be creative, but until the fat's in the fire and the media throng are within touching distance, the lead up to these events builds a level of anxiety that I imagine only John McCain could understand... okay, maybe not that bad, but enough to promote hair loss!!!

Today at 10.30am we unveiled a claw foot bath filled with hundreds of golf balls and one of the most vivacious and talented young golfers on the Australian women’s tour.

It was all in aid of launching the Handa Australia Cup golf tournament at Nedlands Golf Club, along with the public unveiling of the 2009 Australian Women of Professional Golf Calendar.

This year's calendar features a reproduced image of original calendar girl, Australian golfing legend and 2007 Handa Australia Cup champion Jan Stephenson, in her famous ‘bath full of golf balls’ shot from 1986. The 2009 edition pays tribute to Stephenson and four generations of women golfers participating in the calendar project this year.

To bring that image to life and in line with the Handa Australia Cup theme of ‘Joining the Generations’, young golfer Danielle Montgomery jumped into the bathtub, while Jan Stephenson reminisced about her time in the tub - complete with a frank discussion about her 'nipple covers'.

Also on hand at the launch were legends Peter Senior, Pat Bradley, Stewart Ginn, Terry Gale, Ossie Moore and Rodger Davis, who you can catch in action this Saturday and Sunday 25 and 26 October.

The $100,000 Handa Australia Cup is the world’s only golf tournament to feature male and female golfing legends playing alongside the next generation of golfing stars, including the leading junior boy and girl from each state. It is also the only competition where male and female golfers compete for the same trophy.

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

*Images courtesy of Natalee Fuhrmann

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Legends of golf return to Perth

A release I prepared this week to announce the Handa Australia Cup golf tournament to be held this weekend 25 - 26 October at Nedlands Golf Club.

The launch event will be a corker - we're recreating the famous Jan Stephenson bathtub shot by putting talented young golfer Danielle Montgomery in a bath kindly supplied by Reece and topping it up with 1,100 golf balls.

If that aint worth a 30 second slot in the sports news, I don't know what is!

Legends of international golf, including Ian Baker-Finch, Jan Stephenson and Peter Senior, have gathered in Perth for the Handa Australia Cup at Nedlands Golf Club this weekend, Saturday 25 and Sunday 26 October 2008.

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

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

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

Players confirmed to date include Ian Baker-Finch, defending Champion Jan Stephenson, Peter Senior, Pat Bradley, Stewart Ginn, Terry Gale, Ossie Moore, Cindy Rarick, Rodger Davis, Michael Clayton, Bob Shearer, Mike Harwood and many more.

Last year’s Handa Australia Cup marked the return to professional tournament golf for Ian Baker-Finch after a five year break. “Ian’s successful return to professional golf last year has raised the profile of the tournament and created a lot of excitement in golfing circles both here and overseas,” said Tournament Chairman Wayne Smith.

Now in its third year, the 36 hole event was preceded by a combined Pro Am on Friday, 24 October with the Australian Blind Golf Championship – Australian Open tournament from Wednesday 22 to Thursday 23 October.

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

Spectators for the Handa Australia Cup are welcome and entry is free. For further information contact Event Manager Gemma Liddelow at Vault Sports Management: or (08) 9380 6978

What: Handa Australia Cup
Where: Nedlands Golf Club, Melvista Avenue, Nedlands
When: Saturday 25 and Sunday 26 October 2008 – daily tee off will commence at approximately 10.30am. The Pro-Am on Friday 24 October will have a shot gun start at 12.00pm.

Free WiFi at McDonald's Australia

Some good news that I know many of my geek friends will enjoy. Now you can haz wireless internet connection at McDonald's AND enjoy a Rainforest Alliance Certified Coffee at the same time!

In fact, leave me a comment below, email, or DM me at twitter and I'll even line up some free coffee vouchers for the first 50 respondents (or is that respondees... hmmm, crap word either way, but I'm too busy to care!!).

* Only down side is that the WA roll out won't take place until Feb 09... but as the shampoo commercial states, 'It won't happen overnight, but it will happen!'

Tuesday October 21, 2008

McDonald’s enables customers to roam free

McDonald’s Australia today announced its plans to roll out free wireless high speed broadband internet access to 720 restaurants, making it the biggest provider of free WiFi in Australia.

McDonald’s Australia has partnered with Telstra, the country’s leading telecommunications carrier to offer the free service over Telstra’s Next IP™ network. The staged roll out is expected to be completed by March 2009.

Free WiFi will benefit a broad range of McDonald’s Australia customers, including business people on the move to those wanting to take time out at the weekend to catch up on the latest news or music downloads over breakfast.

In fact a regular hotspot user who pays to log on for an hour a week could save as much as $728 per year on premium WiFi charges by using the McDonald’s Australia free service.

McDonald’s Australia CIO, Henry Shiner, said this new technology will enable our customers to work online using their own laptop, personal digital assistant (PDA), mobile phone or games console at any McDonald’s restaurant.

“Many of our customers are looking to access the internet on the move and we see this partnership with Telstra as leading the way and providing a free and convenient service to further enhance our customers’ restaurant experience.”

“The internet continues to play a larger role in our everyday lives and access to the Internet continues to drive people to seek that opportunity to go online while away from their offices and homes,” Mr Shiner added.

Mr Shiner also explained the additional benefits available with the new service.
“The installation of the Telstra’s Next IP network will mean our staff will be able to access for business applications such as access to training programs and other online information,” Mr Shiner said.

The partnership between Telstra and McDonald’s Australia will ultimately give free wireless broadband Internet access to customers at 720 premium locations Australia-wide.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

US Kath & Kim

Okay, so the US version of Kath & Kim has rated well, but then having it sandwiched inbetween My Name is Earl and the US version of The Office is always going to get you a crowd - at least once, maybe twice.

And while US film and TV critics carry about as much weight as Michael Jackson as the CEO of The Office of Child Protection, by all accounts and from what I've seen, this concept hasn't travelled well. Indeed, instead of making it to the east coast of the USA, it would appear that USK&K has struggled to make it much further than Kuta beach before nosediving faster that a Qantas airbus.

I'll have to wait until I see the real deal play out in a full length episode, but to be frank, the greatest appeal of Kath & Kim has been its unique look at Australian life in the burbs - our bogan heartland, with the Kel and his chiploata puns, to Kimmy and her CHARdonnay linguistics.

I think the fact that Americans are unable to digest or appreciate humour from beyond their own border - hello Sarah Palin! - is probably enough to see any translation of Kath & Kim struggle. The only glimmer of hope is that while the yanks really, really don't like to laugh about themselves, My Name is Earl has been succesful in doing just that...

Is the US getting themselves a sense of humour? Christ knows that having figures such as the Bush father and son team, Arnie and Sarah Palin in public office, maybe the joke's really on us?

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Last orders please...

Hi folks… I might be an annoying and persistent prick – some would say a dog with a bone – but I’m dressing up like a day-glo remnant from a Happy Mondays gig this Sunday and walking 7kms with the team from Midland Brick to raise money for type 1 juvenile diabetes.

The least you lot could do is click on this link and sponsor me – whether it’s $5, $10 …whatever you can afford.

So c’mon, dig deep!!!

Monday, October 06, 2008

Wake up Geoff, Richie's mine!

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

Cheers for Richie, girls — he's 78

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

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

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

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

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

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

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