Thanks for nothing folks!

Apologies for being such a poor correspondent, but of late I've been sharing my ideas, thoughts and feelings with the good people at Wangle.

Here's the first of those posts and you can check out the original story by clicking here.

These dark winter mornings and watching the miserable light fading from my workplace window at 5.00pm of late has put me back into a funk about the fate of daylight saving in Western Australia.

After 11 years enjoying daylight saving while living in Melbourne, I returned to Perth with my young family just in time to see DLS re-introduced and then cruelly snatched back from my grasp three short years later.

Yes Perth, you Indian givers, you have decreed that daylight saving is officially dead in the water in WA for the forseeable future. I now hear there are plans afoot to bring back roster petrol stations.

WA, one hour and 57 years behind the rest of Australia. Would the last person to leave Perth please turn out the lights? Were they ever on?

But it’s okay, this summer I’ll be bringing the kids around when they wake up at 4.45am every day and we’ll have a nice play on your front lawn. At about the same time that every species of bird gathers outside my bedroom window for a good chat about how dandy it is to see the sun up so early.

All I wanted was a bit of time in the afternoons to get out of the house with the kids when I came home from work… maybe a barbie, go to the beach, or kick the footy. But no, you lot wouldn’t have that.

According to you, normal people should be eating dinner by 5.30pm and tucked up in bed with Fat Cat before the hour reaches double digits.

I’m mad as hell. While you early morning dog walkers, tradies and sports enthusiasts are no doubt salivating about the prospect of blazing sunlight at 5.00am, think about those of us with small children who have no good use of the morning hours.

Thanks for nothing folks and keep an eye out for me this summer – I’ll be the one driving around honking his horn at the first sign of daylight, making sure you ‘NO’ voters really are awake to enjoy this most ‘precious’ time of the day.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty to love about living in Perth. It was my decision to return from Melbourne and choose this city as the place to raise my kids, but do we really have to endure this ‘if it aint broke, don’t fix it’ mentality forever?

Fair suck of the sauce bottle people!

Time to crank up the YES vote

Add your voice to the poll to the right of this page and let's send a message to the early to rise, early to bed mob who would have us live our lives between 4 - 10am... time to fight the good fight and if we can't be good, let's throw a few sucker punches their way.

The NO group launched its campaign yesterday to a packed house of 20 CWA ring-ins and a half dozen bloked who'd been bribed by talk of free tins of Emu Export. The average age was about 75.

The wild mob was waving placards saying 'we're sick of dark mornings and hot afternoons' and 'bring back roster petrol stations'. The action was shortlived, however, as most of the crew had to be home for dinner at 4pm and in the jammies by 5.30pm for asn intimate evening in bed listening to nightline.

I'm surprised we didn't see big Quentin Lynch from the West Coast Eagles there on the day, but I'm told that he's so ugly he's only allowed out in daylight hours to play footy. Scares the kids. No wonder he's dark on the whole DLS issue.

The YES campaign launches next Saturday in South Perth, so I suggest that anyone with a vested interest in WA staying in touch with the rest of Australia and not becoming a time capsule, should get along and show their support.

Lean to the left, lean to the right, lean to the left and fight! fight! fight!

Daylight saving zombies ATTACK!!!

Somebody's squeezed a few vials of Viagra into the tea urn down at Daylight Savings Zombie Central. Yes siree, there's a whiff of victory in the air and the cardigan brigade couldn't be more excited if Eoin Cameron was back on the electoral hustings.

It's been slim pickings this past week in the zombie hunt pack. Frank's done his best, but with Carps on the sidelines turning to fat and The Lazy Aussie running decoy for Barnett, he's pushing shit uphill with the proverbial toothpick.

Bento is hell bent on cutting the fiends down to size with his Ruger semi-auto with the hollow tip slugs Skink smuggled in from Taiwan, but the Bus Driver and his crazy partner Tea are providing safe passage in a steel plated ex-Transperth bus. Couldn't penetrate that sucker with a Zeliska 600 Nitro Express Revolver.

It's great to have new blood in Shazza come on-board to take on the hand-to-liver spot dotted hand-combat, but for every new body we gain, another falls by the wayside. The Outrage Cohen has been next to useless since he started mainlining that aqua-farmed squid from Chinese-Taipei. It was only a matter of time before the zombies commandeered the presses at The Post to turn out their JUST SAY NO propaganda, but at least the Stones Green Ginger-based Molotov that Poor Lisa lobbed through the window put a spanner in the works.

The regionals are where we're really copping it in the neck and although Rolly is making all the right noises, my fears are that he's working as a double agent. Word is he has plans to put Matt Birney under the wheels of his tractor and seed him with a GM-free canola crop.

The referendum is drawing ever closer. The excited chatter of false teeth and the snap of elasticated double-waisted pants is a drill boring through my skull, making passage for the savage rays that will surely exact their revenge when summer 09/10 rolls around.

As I wander the early morning beaches, taking out the kneecaps of those rendered incontinent at the giddy joy of banishing daylight saving to the dark bottom drawer where Sunday trading resides, my thoughts start to wander.

Lonely summer afternoons on the beach watching a feeble, febrile sun slink away into the Indian Ocean at 6.30pm. Riding back from Little Parakeet Bay on Rottnest Island asking no one in particular, 'Hey, who turned out the lights?'. Poking the snags on the backyard barbie in the half gloom wondering if they're going black, or if it's just the fading light. Sending down a beam ball to the number one son in the Floreat nets and realising too late that he can't see jack shit and is about to wear an incrediball on the chin.

But I guess that's okay, cause the zombies will march forth in the early morn like some remake of Wacko Jacko's Thiller video, boldly striding along to the beat of their own selfish drums as the rest of us consider block-out curtains to keep the baby from waking up at 4.30am.

They'll gather in excited clusters at suburban Chinese restaurants in the 6pm gloom, proferring wine coolers and competing with each other as to who goes to bed and gets out of bed the earliest. 'Water the lawn at 4am, tea on the table at 4.30pm and in bed with Graham Maybury by 6.30pm - that's the life Frank!"

I gather I'm not alone in the YES army, but I feel that our numbers are thin and the zombies are on the rise. Indeed, I think there will be people who vote NO simply because they feel that somehow the people in the eastern states are trying to get one over them. If it aint broke, don't fix it.

And then there's the crowd who say we already get more sunlight than the east, so we don't need daylight saving. Well, I say balls to that theory. Maybe we get more at 4.30am when it's about as much use as TOAB.

So I guess the question is, are you with me, or are you de-linting the woollen cardy and sharpening up the chopticks for a small night out with the zombie brigade?

Yes, or no?

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.'

...to be continued.

Fear and loathing on the WA campaign trail

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hang tough and watch out for flying boondies.

Fels launches Anti-Daylight Savings Party

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

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

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

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

Where the bloody hell are we?

Would the last person to leave Perth please turn off the lights... oh, they were never on.

I can't believe it. Just when we were acting all grown up, suddenly the blinkers are back on and we're all huddled around the wireless counting our ration coupons again.

Yes indeed, the prospect of Sunday trading has been dealt a lethal blow. Perth, 2 hours and 25 years behind the rest of Australia - the only city where you can't go shopping on a Sunday if that's what you choose to do.

Go on, let's go the whole hog - bring back roster petrol stations, stamp out those pesky supermarkets that dare to stay open beyond 5.30pm, make bottle shops illegal so that we have to run grog in from illicit stills hidden deep in the hills and - most importantly - repeal the daylight savings legislation immediately.

In fact, I say we not only abolish daylight savings, but we go one step further and put the clocks forward by an extra hour! What better than a city that slips under the cover of darkness at 5.30pm and wakes to a new day at 4.00am. We'll be able to water the lawns for hours, take our dogs out to shit in other people's front yards, put in the hard yards on talk back radio, water some more, have dinner at 4.30pm and be tucked up in bed by 6.00pm - bliss!

What the friggen hell is wrong with the idea of deregulated trading hours? It means more work for more people and gives us all an opportunity to do our shopping outside of the restrictive hours that currently exist. My local IGA closes at 5.30pm every week day except Thursday and I am not one tiny bit interested in joining the crowds for 'late night' shopping, or for that matter the mad Saturday supermarket rush.

I think this whole issue has got more to do with the fact that we're so isolated from the rest of the country that we feel the need to be 'different' - it's the old chip on the shoulder syndrome. More of the old 'If it aint broke, don't fix it' mantra.

Perth is acting like a spoilt child stamping its feet, squeezing its eyes shut and screeching its lungs out to avoid the tide of change. NO, we don't need to be like everyone else, but resistance simply for the sake of being 'different' is infantile.

Now before you take me away and start beating me about the kidneys with old phone books, let me just state that I love WA and the lifestyle it offers. All I'm asking is that we start looking more to the future instead of fretting over maintaining the status quo all the time.

Anyway, got to sign off and get back to the lawns...