Vote YES for daylight savings

Quite frankly, I'm getting sick of having to be in at the office at 6.00am for a teleconference with my Eastern States colleagues in summer.

It peeves me no end that I'm usually well and truly tucked up in bed when my Melbourne mates are welcoming in the new year... especially when they call me.

And I get really, really cranky when darkness falls over Perth just when you think it'd be a great idea to get out and enjoy a balmy summer evening.

Come on Perth, wake up and smell the sunshine! We live in a state that enjoys the best climate in - dare I say it - the world and here we are shutting up shop, pulling down the shutters and hiding ourselves away in small dark holes one hour earlier than the rest of the country.

Oh, sorry... Queensland is also yet to embrace daylight savings. Gee, aint it just super that we've got the banana benders on our side - didn't they reprieve prohibition laws just last year?

Maybe if we introduced daylight savings we could start eating at more reasonable hours too. Perth is the only place I know where there is a culture of hitting restaurants on the dot of 6.00pm and washing down the last forkfull of tiramasui with the last drop of Black Tower (possibly Blue Nun) before the clock hits 7.30pm.

In the Eastern States eating at 6.00pm is considered a late lunch. But that's the thing about Perth, everything starts early and finishes early AND you can't go shopping on a Sunday. God knows it's only been in recent years that we haven't had to look up our nearest 'roster' petrol station to buy fuel after hours.

I reckon that if I live in a state with the highest property prices, rental costs on a par with New York, trading hours tighter than a fish's sphinctre and traffic lights that never change (more on this later), then I deserve an extra hour of sunlight during summer.

Of course I know that the curtains will fade and the cows won't know when it's milking time, but we can live with that. Yes, I know the kids can't get to sleep because it's still light, but here's a tip - buy yourself some of those heavy, non-fadable curtains and the little ones will never know! Besides, when it's 48 degrees, who's sleeping anyway!

So, make your mark - vote now and vote often! YES to daylight savings in WA.

Pass it on to as many friends as you can.

The Brownlow's Biggest Goose Award

Ladies and gentlemen, the 3-2-1 for Biggest Brownlow Goose - displaying juvenile and drunken antics before a national TV audience - and the winners are:

3rd place: Brendan Fevola - half cut before round 1, wild gesticulations and an obvious inability to focus by round 6. One-eyed by round 12.

2nd place: Brendon Lade - looked almost studious in glasses until round 4, then polled quickly with his 'beer coaster on the schnozz' routine. You can take the bogan out of Port Adelaide...

And the winner is!

1st place: Travis Johnstone - was in high spirits from the outset, polling strongly with ill-advised and unwanted kisses to the cheeks of his team mates. Secured top spot with a lick to the face of a teammate in the dying rounds. Rumours involving a male nipple have yet to be confirmed.

Honorary mention: Daniel Kerr - for tearing up when he suddenly realised he was in the hunt... But he wasn't - GOLD!

Also, what the hell was going on with Judd's hair? He'll have to use that lip-bush as a comb over if he loses any more on top.

Well done to Adam Goodes and commiserations to Scotty West who has had legitimate claims on the Brownlow for years now - I'm sure he'll give it a run again next year, but he'll have to hold off a rampaging Pavlich.

Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs

Aye laddie, that wee buftie Irvine Welsh is up to his usual tricks once again, dragging us along a cold and blustery Leith Walk by the scruff of the neck and promising lewdness, drink, drugs, sexual excess, football violence and... romance?

Yes, the dark prince of Scotland is back with his latest novel, the Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs and a new anti-hero in the likes of hedonistic party boy Danny Skinner - a council restaurant inspector who likes a wee bevvie or 10, plus a bit of the "white powder... just to give me the edge".

His nemesis is the new boy on the block, anorak-toting stick figure Brian Kibby - Treckie, 'Hyp Hiker', model railway enthusiast and a compulsive masturbator.

When the two cross paths in the workplace a chain of events is set in motion, born from Skinner's fierce, almost supernatural hatred of his young nemesis. The resulting plot twist gives flight to Welsh's glorious ability to capture and deliver tales of hedonistic debauchery so wrong that they fairly reek of old fag ends, stale sex and endless pints of lager.

Add to this Skinner's sad search for the father he never knew - he told the kids in school that it was Joe Strummer - and a salubrious slice of seedy Edinburgh kitchen life... Welsh at his realist best.

But it's when Skinner's transposed to the West Coast of the US that the reader is really treated to the comedic genius of Welsh's complex characters and the keen observations that only they can make.

Aye, it's not for the feint hearted or the "dinguls" of this world, but for those of us who ken what this gadge is on aboot, it's a f*****in good laff!

TNT - Freo's Dynamite!

The new tradition at the end of Fremantle games, following a win, is for the AC/DC classic TNT to be played at a raucous volume over the loudspeakers - it's become our unofficial club anthem.

And doesn't it just rock! On Friday night it was rumoured that Bon Scott himself had scaled the fence at Freo cemetery and was on his way to Subi.

Taking the song to the next level I thought I'd do a bit of re-working and give it a bit of the purple passion treatment:

FFC

See us run out of the centre square
On your plasma TV screen
We're the purple passion, yeah!
If you know what I mean
Runners to the left of me
And runners to the right
They ain't got no passion
They ain't got no heart
So don't you start no fight

'Cause we're Fremantle, we're dynamite
(Fremantle) and we'll win the fight
(Fremantle) A purple power load
(Fremantle) watch us explode

We're dirty, mean, the fastest you've seen
Each one a wanted man
Purple enemy number one
Understand
So lock up your goal square
Lock up your wing
Lock up your backline
And get ready for the sting
The Dockers are back in town
So don't you mess us 'round

'Cause we're Fremantle, we're dynamite
(Fremantle) and we'll win the fight
(Fremantle) A purple power load
(Fremantle) watch us explode

Fremantle, (oi, oi, oi)
Fremantle, (oi, oi, oi)
Fremantle, (oi, oi, oi)
Fremantle, (oi, oi, oi)
Fremantle, (oi, oi, oi) , we're dynamite
(Fremantle, oi, oi, oi), and we'll win the fight,
(Fremantle, oi, oi, oi), A purple power load
(Fremantle), watch us explode!

AFL Grand Final one game closer...

The mighty Freo Dockers dispatched their Demons quite literally on Friday night before the most vocal AFL crowd in the history of the game - well, at Subiaco Oval at least.

It was a solid win, but next week looms as the biggest test in the port club's 11-year history.

Will big bad Bazza Hall snap our rosy cheeked Bahai Luke in two? Will Josh Carr be seduced by sequins and the lure of the Gay Mardi Gras? Will the 75,000 people in the crowd realise that this is AFL and not that other game where blokes throw the ball around and jam their heads up each other's backsides?

Only time will tell, but for now the tinitis of 43,000 people belting out a throat scorching version of AC/DC's TNT reminds me that we're still in the hunt - just one more win...

* Pic: 'The Door is Open'

The West Coast Eagles SUCK!

Now, the main focus of all Fremantle supporters right now is obviously knocking over the Dees and securing Sandi an aisle seat on a jumbo heading for Siderknee a week later.

But, in true Docker spirit, the team at www.dockerland.com couldn't resist making the most of an opportunity to well and truly stick it to our cross-town, chardy sipping neighbours - the West Coast Eagles, *retch!*.

So, while we're enjoying the game on Friday night, all Dockers supporters are being encouraged to download and print off the above sticker - link below - and stick it on the seat in front of them.

The train of thought is that many of the stickers will survive until the next day, when the seats will be occupied by the blue and yellow Wet Toast brigade - imagine the fury, the spilt plonk, the clash of furious knitting needles... priceless!!!

http://www.dockerland.com/sticker.html

"This picture is intended for your own personal use and Dockerland does not encouraging vandalism etc".

Gearing up for the AFL Premiership

This is it folks... the Dockers are three wins shy of being the AFL Premiers - the best side in this national competition, or as Steve Irwin may have described them, 'the duck's guts'.

We take on the Adelaide Crows this Saturday and if we turn them into humble pie for the second time in a month, it's straight into the preliminary final.

We're the underdogs, the team without finals experience, the team that surely has to drop a game at some stage... but with all that, we're also the team with 11 years of fire in the belly and a purple passion that's set to explode like TNT.

AND, we've got Jeff 'The Purple Jesus' Farmer on our side - bring it on!

By Crikey - Steve Irwin dead

There's been a mini shockwave travel through the office... the king of 'Crikey', the man lambasted for dangling his baby over the jaws of a rabid croc, the man who was second only to Hoges in upping the Aussie "struth!" factor - Steve Irwin - is dead.

It's a sad day - I feel terrible for the family that he onviously loved so dearly (despite the croc dangling incident), but if he was going to bite the big one, well, a stingray barb to the heart is pretty fitting way to do it.

His gravestone would have to read: 'By crikey this bloke loved life and fair dinkum, didn't he have a good one...'

RIP

BREAKING NEWS: Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin is reportedly dead after being stung by a sting-ray during the filming of a new TV series.

The Courier Mail has reported the 43-year-old had a heart seizure after a sting-ray barb went through his chest off the Low Islands in North Queensland, near Port Douglas.

Irwin has been transported to Cairns Hospital.

Fremantle finals party pack

There's a sniff of purple in the air... the mighty Fremantle Dockers are marching towards September action and we're feeling confident about our chances for the first time since inception.

For my fellow Freophiles out there, gearing up for the critical game against Port tomorrow night, get ready to gear up in traditional / rave / head-banging style with the Freo Finals Party Pack that has been lovingly complied by fellow Freo blogger and dockerland.com regular Range-Raver.

Not only do you get the club song and his fabulous Purple Passion re-mix, you also get that adrenalin pumping post-win favoutite, TNT - ahhhhh, ACCA-DACCA's never sounded sooooo good!

http://rangeraver-lounge.blogspot.com

And if you're in the market for a Flashing Purple Anchor or three (who wouldn't be!) or a snack mid-game - maybe some delish wasabe roasted green peas - drop in to the Angry Almond at Subi Markets:

http://www.angryalmond.com

Where am I?

Apologies for my tardiness in posting over the past couple of months, but to be frank, I've been so bloody busy I've hardly had time for the proverbial 'scratch'.

Lord knows I've got plenty I want to talk about, but between work and my unnatural preoccupation with the Fremantle Dockers... oh, and my family... there seems time for little else.

Besides, the callouses on my two typing fingers are fit to burst, so like a good AFL coach, I'm resting them for the sake of my long term blogging career. Too many bloggers have made the mistake of simply having anaesthetic injections in their fingers so they can keep on typing week in, week out, only to finish up crippled at an early age.

I will be back...

The Howard and Costello stoush

All this talk of "hubris" and "humility" between the Howard and Costello show is driving me to drink... c'mon boys, let's settle this leadership dispute the fair way: get Janet to grease you both up with a mixture of vaseline and dencorub, then put you in a plastic wading pool full of KY Jelly and let you slug it out!

Now eyebrows, before you get started on Costello's advantage because of his longer reach, remember that your arse is closer to the ground, therefore giving you added stability.

Of course, to make matters even fairer, how about we have lil' Lexie Downer as the judge and we send in about 400 peace keeping troops to quell any civic unrest... obviously we'll have to ask George Dubbya for his permission on this one.

Speaking of Dubbya, get him and his mate Dick Cheney over for the gig - tell 'em to bring Dickie Pound too just in case you boys try and slip in a few roids to gain the upper hand.

And a word of warning - there will be no punches to the nads ala Danny Kerr, or any Hopoate 'digit in the date' action... Johnny, don't look at me like that, look at moi, loooka moi!

Oh and did I say you'll be wearing nappies during this showdown? Ahhhh, Aussie politics, who needs the World Cup???

Chaos and bloodshed on Perth streets!

Rampaging Bell Towers, decapitated politicians and chaos across the city... another typical Perth day really.

Aussies robbed at World Cup

I will not eat another bowl of spaghetti bolognase in... well, at least WEEKS. Nor shall I go cheek to jowel with a pizza (unless it's an Aussie), because WE WUZ ROBBED out of World Cup glory by a jumped up little upstart that had no place on the football field - the umpire.

I'd just put another pot of sauerkraut on the boil and was about to tap a fresh keg of Heinekin to ready myself for a penalty shoot out when the unthinkable happened... the Mexican house maid, Concheeta, unplugged the plasma to run the vacuum over the rubble of my hotel room.

By the time I'd placed a well struck volley to the side of her head and wrestled the cord back into the socket it was all over... the cheating swines we like to call 'white maggots' in AFL had given the Italian 'diving' team a free shot at goal with only 30 seconds left on the clock. It was a cruel blow made worse by a further blow to the rear of my skull as Concheeta bought the vacuum pipe down with a vengance.

As I thrashed about the room trying to shake her from my back and bemoaning the bastardisation of the world umpiring fraternity, I reflected on what a fickle game the world sport is. Quite frankly you I-tie nancy boys, if we'd had Harry Kewell on the track yesterday, you'd all be back home with your Mamas right now coping a damn good thrashing from the frenzied Italian press corp.

Yes, if it wasn't for Harry's gout-ridden crotch and corrupt officialdom, we'd be looking set to ride rough shod over the happless Ukranians and marching on to World Cup glory.

I've decided to stay on in the hotel and cut my losses over a week of Wimbledon action - when did Italy ever produce a world class tennis player? Probably never as you're all too busy falling over and grabbing your hairy white shins.

As I tuck into my strawberries and cream I'll be keeping an eye on you Italians and the umpires - hope you all get gout in the gonads!

Bring on Italy - where's the sauerkraut?

Sweet Jeezus, it's been a hell of a roller coaster ride this World Cup campaign... been too tired to fire up the lap top since Japan and the Mexican house maid has now taken to stealing my USB connection - found it last time in the sauerkraut vat.

Don't know if it's the lack of sleep, but I'm now hatching rabid conspiracy theories about the umpires officiating at this gig. Last night the night porter looked suspiciously like that 'Merc' character and I swear he did something to the schnitzel... he must have a twin brother here in Perth, no two heads can be that ugly.

The Brazil match jigged my senses a bit and laid me low for a few days. I tried focussing on the other group matches but I felt doomed that somehow I would never see another goal scored at this Cup... nil all draws are the curse of the round ball game and have the ability to seriously screw with your synapses.

And what about last night? An unholy 3.00am Perth start as the outside temperature dipped to a testicle shrinking 3 degrees and the sun decided to hit the snooze button for another few hours. Staring from the top floor window I felt like the only dumb soul in Perth to be cranking up the blood sausage and tapping the Heinekin keg for another go around at this mad caper.

Come 5.30am - and a very heated argument with the concierge about the smell of boiling cabbage coming from my room - I had crossed over into a wild insanity that had me singing 'Harry Kewell, Harry Kewell' to the tune of Daddy Cool. Just when we thought all was lost by Gooooos's decision to put 'lurch' in goal, the great man came of age and gave the cheating, gang-tackling Croats a swift kick in the nads to go on with. "You're red, you're white, you're going home tonight!"

Speaking of the Croats, what was with that swine who got three yellow cards and still slunk around like a curr, refusing to leave the field?

Still, we're on to the big stuff now... It-al-ia, primadonnas of the Euro circuit and quicker to take a dive than a Jap on a Minke whale fritter. Christ, will that Mexican woman ever leave me alone? "No, I did not steal all the shower caps from your trolley, so kindly give me back my USB cord and bugger off back to the laundry!"

Aussie's taste World Cup success

Oh how sweet it was last night when in the space of just six minutes, 70 odd minutes of frustration was swept away by Australia's first three goals ever in the World Cup.

Commiserations to the Japanese contingent, but quite frankly, you should never have even been in the picture - watching Schwartzer get taken out of the play was akin to Gulliver being pinned to the ground by the little people. It was a definite foul and the Egyptian umpire has admitted it was a good job we had the 'gods' on our side...

Can't say I'm impressed by the rotten nancy-boy tactics deployed by the Japanese either - they must have the most delicate ankles in the world... must be the strain of carrying all that 'Flock of Seagulls' hair around all day.

Anyway, I've been holed up in a penthouse suite overlooking the Swan River now since Sunday night and lack of sleep is starting to take its toll. I've taped up all the windows to keep the light out, but there's a feisty little Mexican house maid who keeps sneaking in and trying to peel it off when I go to the bathroom.

To recreate the atmosphere in here I've got three mini-kegs of Heinekin, two gross of blood sausage, a great vat of pickled cabbage on the boil and a 'Sprechst Du Deutch?' language tape running in a loop over the sound system. I've built a little grandstand over the couches populated by a half dozen blow up kangaroos and two of the porters drop by every now and again for a burst of 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oy, Oy, Oy!'.

Looking forward to the Toga match, but need some sleep before I start talking to the roos. Can hear that damn Mexican woman scratching around outside the door again - might have to take her down with a trademark Viduka foot sweep...

My Top 10 Albums

There's been much talk of late about the top 10 albums in the UK and for the main part, I agree on what the punters have got to say.

So, I thought I'd compile my own little list - in no particular order except for the number one spot, which The Pixies will FOREVER hold down.

I've missed a lot, I know and I'm going to kick myself later when I look through my collection... but let's just call it a work in progress - a 'fluid' top 10 if you like.

I'd be interested to hear your thoughts?

1. Doolittle - The Pixies
2. Nevermind - Nirvana
3. Three Feet High and Rising - De La Soul
4. Free Dirt - Died Pretty
5. What's the Story Morning Glory - Oasis
6. Goo - Sonic Youth
7. Post - Paul Kelly and The Coloured Girls
8. Treeless Plain - The Triffids
9. The Velvet Underground & Nico - The Velvet Underground
10. The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses

Strong contenders:
1. Psycho Candy - The Jesus and Mary Chain
2. Why Should I Stand Up - the Colorblind James Experience
3. Echo and The Bunneymen - Crocodiles
4. Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express - The Go-Betweens
5. Black the Sun - Alex Lloyd
6. Live Rust - Neil Young
7. The Queen is Dead - The Smiths
8. Angel - 20th Century Crucifixion (for you Hadyn!)
9. Pills, Thrills and Bellyaches - the Happy Mondays
10. Henry's Dream - Nick Cave

Aussie action at the World Cup

Well, it's almost time for the FIFA World Cup to quite literally kick-off and how good is it that the Socceroos have qualified and will finally be taking part in the action on a world stage. Christ knows they've done their best to stop us in the past and succeeded.

I keep expecting some Euro Aussie-phobe to suddenly realise that they've let Australia slip through the net and change the rules again to knock us out at the last minute - 'I'm sorry, but we think it only fair that you play a team made up of the world's best players in order to qualify... can't have you getting in that easily now, wouldn't be fair on teams like the USA, Togo or Poland...'

Bitter? Just a bit - just doesn't seem quite sporting that despite belting the living suitcases out of every team in our region, we've never had the opportunity to rip off a few 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oy! Oy! Oys!' for our boys, yet in some parts of the world you can qualify by simply being able to recognise that yes, soccer balls are round.

I'll never forget living in London during the World Cup in the late 80s - 88, 89 possibly. I was working in a Peter Dominics off-license on Upper Street in Islington and sharing an upstairs apartment with the manager, cum mad abstractionist Justin Piperger. We decided to drag the TV downstairs and set it up in the shop when England was playing - no one got served when the ball was in 'our' half, but I don't think anyone cared! Another glass of Crimean Shiraz anyone? (it was our World Cup special at the time.

There was a great little Italian restaurant around the corner, tucked in a laneway off Upper Street and served the best seafood pizzas - but it was the same deal there. TVs were everywhere and if Italy looked like scoring, it was forks down and be prepared to wait. If Italy actually scored, then it was time to knock back a few chiantis very quickly, join in the celebrations and hunker down for a very long night.

Just for a bit of added 'cool' factor, England's theme song for that campaign was penned by none other than New Order - 'We're playing for England, Eng-er-land!' Still sends a shiver up my spine today. Let the action begin!

Scrotum talk & Sydney Harbour Bridge

I've been a lazy poster over the past few weeks, but with the days getting shorter, the nights getting colder and the demands of the office growing ever greater, it's a bit bloody hard - flat out like a lizard drinking, as the old saying goes.

But I got worried today when a blog browser typed in 'scotum verandah (yes, spelling mistake intended' and got directed to my site - numero uno, first cab off the 'scotum' rank. Indeed, one of my posts did indeed mention the mis-spelled version of scrotum and verandah. However, I don't think my post provided the information this browser was after... methinks the terminology may indeed be the same as, 'the verandah over the toolshed', i.e, the male beer gut.

Anyway, moving away from scrotal matters, I can highly recommend that when next in Sydney you do the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb - see photo above.

I did it as part of a corporate team building exercise a few weeks back and it's quite a day out. For those of you scared of heights, there is one section where you climb up steel ladders - 75 steps in total - through the traffic and that gave me a bit of a moment. But once you're up on the arch it's quite peaceful taking in all the Sydney smog as you gaze down over the Opera House and other Harbour attractions.

One of the bridge facts that sent a shiver up my spine was how the thousands of rivets were hammered into the bridge - including the narrow support beams that run across the middle. Apparently one guy would haul the red hot rivets up from below and then throw them to the bloke out in the middle who would catch them in a little bucket before putting them in. And if you wore a rope to secure yourself to the bridge you were considered somewhat of a nancy boy. Surprisingly I think only two blokes fell off the bridge, but I guess it explains why there are so many rivets at the bottom of the harbour.

Quite frankly, I'd rather chew off my own 'scotum' than scramble around on a slippery steel bridge trying to catch red hot lumps of metal in a bucket for 10 hours a day. But those Sydney-siders will do anything for a crust...

One final word of caution, do not consume a lazy 10 C*%k-Sucking Cowboy shooters the night before the climb - I was sweating butterscotch schnapps by the half way point. They breathlise you before you start the climb and I think I only just scraped in.

Anyway, must be off to work on growing the verandah.

Migration services in Perth

Someone asked me the other day if I knew of a dependable, timely and cost effective Migration agency in Perth and as it happens, I do!

Steppingstone Relocations WA can arrange:

Visas for Work or Business Visas for Skilled People Visas for Couples Visas for Family Members Visas for Students Other Temporary Visas Visas for Refugees or Asylum Seekers

Steppingstone Relocations WA
Perth Office
45 Ventnor Avenue
West Perth WA, 6005
Phone
+61 (8) 9429 8833
Fax
+61 (8) 9429 8800

For more details visit:

www.steppingstonerelocations.com

John Howard & George Bush do 'Brokeback'

I almost choked on my rice bubbles this morning when I heard a news grab from the Howard-Bush 'Love Fest' in which Dubbya describes our Johnny as "not the prettiest" guy on the block.

Of course, our Johnny being the brown noser he is, failed to retort with a well timed, "That's okay George, cause you're not exactly the smartest bloke on the planet - about as sharp as a bowling ball in fact..."

Dubbya even went on to comment about the PM's bald pate, in a move which I think was intended to show just what great mates they really are - I think it was a scene stolen from 'Dumb and Dumber', or in this case, 'Dangerous and Dangerouser'.

So chummy are these two that word from Canberra is that Johnny generally greets Mr President with the truly Aussie opener, "G'day you old bastard, how the bloody hell are they hangin'?" Dubbya just loves it and intends to come up with the perfect rejoinder one day, just as soon as one of his staffers makes one up.

Talk around town is that the two men are planning to retire 'Brokeback Style' and set up house on a large ranch property in North Dakota. There they can spend aimless days polishing their saddles and telling war stories across an open fire.

John Howard and George Bush - what a couple of wacky funsters they are!

http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200605/s1640172.htm