The Great White Shark Hunt

Apologies to Hunter S. Thompson.

Don’t ask me how, but I did the impossible and wangled a CHOGM media pass not only for myself, but for my outrageously loud Fijian lawyer who I’d bought with me on this gig to handle ‘supplies’. And the way things were shaping up, we were going to need all the supplies we could lay our greedy hands on if we were to maintain some semblance of sanity and avoid having our skulls cracked by the trigger itchy security goons on every street corner.

Welcome to Perth, home of the all mighty mining dollar where everything’s fast, shiny and shuts at six. As all good gigs go, this one had taken a sharp turn to the left and was fast sliding into the realms of absurdity – a place where only the most drug addled of minds can operate successfully without succumbing to crippling, eye gouging paranoia.

It was not a place to be without a high powered weapon. I had been here before and I would be here again, but first something had to die.

Lazlo and I found ourselves riding high on the fly-bridge of the FarQ II heading out of Fremantle towards Rottnest Island. We had intended to spend the day running amok on a Captain Cook winery cruise, but that was until shark frenzy took a choker hold on Perth City and every redneck who owned a tinny suddenly morphed into a wild-eyed cross between Captain Nemo and Crocodile Dundee.

Another week, another shark death. It was all too much for a town on the verge of CHOGM glory, so the call went out to ‘shoot to kill’ and the race was on to see who would string this monster of the deep up by its murderous tail and bring justice to the land once again.

We’d packed lightly for this trip. An esky full of dark rum, three sheets of blotter acid and enough cocaine to keep the Bolivian Army marching for a year. We also had two high tensile trolling rods baited with whole pig’s heads, 120 litres of sheep blood, a pump action Ruger shotgun, a .45 Colt and an Alaskan pick axe just in case the fight came to close quarters.

We were half way across ‘Stragglers’ when the drugs began to take hold and the shit began to go down. Captain Jack had been busy ladelling bucket-loads of gore into our wake, when suddenly line started screaming off one of the trolling rods, as the water exploded about 100m off the starboard bow.

The whole boat lurched and I spilled most of my rum down Lazlo’s shirt as he scrambled around on deck like a ludicrous, hairy crab trying to find its footing. “Stay still, you fool. You’ll get us all killed carrying on like that.” I pushed him back into his chair and stood back to take stock of the situation.

Line continued to burn off the smoking reel and it was obvious that we’d hooked into something huge and terrifying that would drag us all to our death, boat and all. “There’s only one thing for it, we’ll have to shoot the fucker!” I screamed grappling for the shot gun and taking the steps to the deck three at a time. “Stand back Captain Jack, this one’s mine!”

The crew cowered in the bulk-head fearing the worst as I surveyed the broiling, inky waters before me. Shapes loomed from the deep, bats screeched from the heavens... yes, there are ALWAYS bats... as I took my bead on one evil murderous eye that gleamed from the head of a white pointer bigger than a Kombi Van and now only metres from where I stood. One, two...

‘BARPPPPP!’ The sound caught me like a punch in the face as a fast moving ferry cut across our bow and a single figure leapt gracefully from the deck clutching a spear in one hand and a Swiss Army Knife in the other. In a second the hunt was over and my final moment of glory snatched cruelly from my grasp.

I reached for the rum and chuckled quietly under my breath. “We meet again Freocookster... we meet again.”

When pranks go wrong...

Listening to a commercial radio station today they were talking about how the condom full of icecream prank at McDonald's Geraldton went so horribly wrong. They asked listeners to share their examples of when seemingly hilarious pranks went wrong.

Now those who know me will understand that I'm a keen prankster who would lie to his own Mum for the chance to get a laugh at someone else's expense. Generally these pranks involve a small white lie that I put right before the whole thing goes pear shaped and the poo hits the proverbial.

But sometimes time gets away from me and I forget the seed I've sown until it blooms into something way beyond a simple joke and threatens the balance of peace in the free world... or in my world at least.

Here's a great case in point...

Back in the 90s I worked at the POST Newspaper group where we put out a half dozen papers covering Melbourne's outer eastern suburbs. At the time I was working as editor of the Whitehorse POST covering the Box Hill area and surrounds, but had until recently edited the Maroondah POST which takes in Ringwood and Croydon.

So, I'm digging through my in-tray one morning and come across a police media alert about two men who had been arrested and charged with grievous bodily harm after assaulting a man at Jooce Nightclub (yep, as bogan as the name sounds).

The report was from a year earlier, but I thought it'd be rib ticklingly funny to white out the dates and change it to the current day, then photocopy it and slide it into my mate Peter's tray who was now editing the Maroondah POST.

Of course, he pulls it out, we have a quick yarn about the story and then I promptly forget all about it and start work on my front page story about poison dim sims in a suburban supermarket (seriously).

Fast forward two days later and the whole office is in a deadline frenzy. I wander past Peter's desk where he's hunkered over his screen with our editor in chief Mal, working on his front page story - both are in a lather to get it right, given it has serious legalities about what can and can't go to print.

That's when the 72pt headline jumps off the screen and rabbit punches me between the eyes: MEN CHARGED WITH JOOCE BASHING

And that's when I had to explain why it would be a very bad idea to run with that story and how very sorry I was to have left them stranded on deadline day without a front page yarn.

I think the C word may have come into play that afternoon.

The upside for Peter was that a few weeks later he convinced me that I'd gone to print with a headline talking about the Mininster for the Farts. Touche!

When has one of your pranks turned around and savaged you in the backside?

Bran Nue Day in Broome

A short clip I took of Stephen Baamba Albert singing Bran Nue Dae at the North West Expo in Broome last weekend.

Starter Bar Tonight!

THE STARTER BAR

Starter Bar Tonight at the North Fremantle Bowling Club!

Tonight at The North Freo Bowls, DJ Ipod Sally plays 60s Garage, Psych Pop and 80s indi trash !!!!

Catch an acoustic performance By Michael Gabriel and his Quixotics, featuring his newly written song, 'The Don Walker Blues'.

ALSO The 'New and Improved' Long Strides without the bass player and second guitarist.

When asked what happened, singer songwriter and lead singer Matt Jenkins was posting on his Twitter account: 'There's no room on these tiny stages for my style, cute butt and sexy lips. I had to clear my head and five instruments was too much clutter. My new vision of the music is simple, and I am a slave to that single vision.

'It is a simple chain saw pop song with a thumping rhythm, and tasty morsels of meaty guitar. No bass no extra guitar no fuss!! Hey it's not like I shot them. I just fired their arses. My vocal chords are an instrument of andemic proportion and they needed more space.'

Also playing, the no mess no fuss FAGS will shake it just before their big Day Out Gig, not available for comment at the time of writing....

$5 at the door be early :)

7:30-8:30 IPod Sally 60's tunes
8:30-9:10 Michael Gabriel and The Quixotics
9:30-10:10 The Long Strides
10:30-11:10 The Fags
11:10-I-Pod Sally

More info: Richard Lane 0406 883 709 rbg@hotmail.com

Flood Fundraising Gig

A great Flood Fundraiser gig at North Fremantle Bowling Club tonight from 4.30 until late!

More than a dozen local bands and musicians will take to two stages, indoors and out, with plenty of other activities to keep people of all ages happy.

Entry: Adults - $10 Kids - free.
Woodfired Pizzas
Jumping Castle until sunset
Free bowls
Heaps of prizes and giveaways, bring your friends and have some fun for charity :)

BOWLING GREEN STAGE
Outdoor (Solo and Duo Acoustic stage)
Also featuring : Casual Compare /Street Poet and Host With The Most Mr Damon Hurst

4.30-5.00 That Velvet Echo
5.00-5.20 Steve Andrews
5.30- 5.50 Michael Gabriel from The Quixotics
6.00 -6.20 James Mittell
6.30- 6.50 Elk
7.00 -7.20 Gabriel Lee (Stillfire)
7.30-7.50 Lachy Banjo (ex Kill Devil Hills)
8.00.-8.20 Fremantle Ukelelle Collective
8.30 9.00 Brown Dog Salloon

INDOOR STAGE
9.10- 9.50 pm The Morning Night
10.10-10.50 pm Salvage Diver
11.10-11.50 pm The Moltens

Hanging at the bowser on tight arse Wednesday

The fourth Wangle column - click here for the original story.

I worked with an editor in Melbourne for about five years, who apart from wearing socks and sandles had a rather infuriating habit.

Every Wednesday night he’d drive around the foothills of the Dandenong Ranges to find the cheapest petrol, then buy as much as he could while the going was good. I’m talking jerry cans, the works.

Good on him for wanting to save a few dollars to fill up, but what price all the driving around and wear-and-tear on his car?

Let’s not even start about the carbon footprint he was leaving as he stomped around the suburbs in search of that elusive two cent saving.

I’d forgotten about this behaviour until just last week when I pulled into the servo with a flat back tyre and a petrol tank drier than a dead dingo’s proverbial.

I’d left my run to the last gasp and was urging the hail-pocked Mazda onwards to the finish line. If I was a jockey, I’d be using the whip.

But the finish line was blocked. My run had been thwarted by a line of at least 15 cars queuing for petrol.

What in hell’s name was going on here? Were petrol prices about to soar?

As the Mazda farted its empty discontent, it suddenly dawned on me… it was a Wednesday, the cheapest day in the fuel price cycle. These people were lining up as they would do every Wednesday to save themselves a few bob at the bowser.

And indeed it’s true. If you check out the FuelWatch price trend graph, the chart looks like the heart rate of an AFL player who’s been eating the No Doz like Tic Tacs.

But is it worth waiting in line for 30 minutes chewing through the gas to get one over the oil companies? And why does it seem that everyone waits until after 5.00pm to join the line?

Surely the pensioners would be better off buying their petrol during work hours when there’s less traffic and less demand?

When I finally limped up to the bowser, I understood that this was a special club and these people had made the whole tight-arse petrol Wednesday trip into something of a ritual.

People were wandering from car to car for a chat, sharing a joke over a coolant top-up and generally behaving like they were in the crowd at an Andre Riue concert.

One middle aged gent thought a quick buttock grope was in order, while he gathered his betrothed in a ULP embrace. Betrothed? No, not on your nelly. The lucky gropee scampered off shortly after to attend to the diesel pump hanging out of her Patrol.

What was this madness? Had I been consumed by fumes?

Some 40 minutes after first joining that conga-line of price conscious, socially gregarious fuel fanatics, it was time to hit the road.

I looked over to the designated air and water area in hope that I might get a clear run to fill my flaccid Goodyear, but my hopes were cruelly dashed.

From what I could see and hear a bloke called Ted was running a workshop on tyre pressures and the best time of day to achieve the most satisfactory result. I do believe he was even running a tea and coffee service out of his boot.

The point of this rant? The source of my anger? To be honest, I no longer recall.

I’m too busy planning my run for Wednesday arvo and hoping that Ted has some feedback on the best type of lubricant to ease my creaking ball joints.

F*@K OFF! WE'RE FULL (of racists)

The third of my Wangle columns - click here to visit the original story.

Bumper stickers say a lot about the person who drives the car.

For example, the other day I was wandering back to the car from a family event, enjoying the Sunday sunshine with the kids, when something caught my eye.

It was a bumper sticker on the rear of a blown-out SUV that was half blocking the footpath – a map of Australia with the words printed inside, ‘F*** Off, We’re Full!’

It’s a message we’ve all seen many times and it’s nothing new, but on this day Mr 10 noticed it too. He cocked his head to one side, furrowed his brow, and asked me, “Are people allowed to have the F word on the backs of their cars?”

I responded, “Only very small minded nuff-nuffs son. People who are proud to put their hands up and say I’m a racist – check me out.”

In a flash I’d made an addition to the message thanks to the dust that covered the back window. The message now read, ‘F*** Off We’re Full – of Racist Pricks Like Me!’ If it was your car, I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t let your tyres down while I was at it.

The saddest thing about this encounter wasn’t having to explain to my son that some people feel threatened by people of non anglo-saxon origin coming to our country. It was knowing that this was a family vehicle and all the occupants, right down to the toddler in the booster seat, would be tainted by this attitude in some way.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all for free speech. I had a chuckle at a sticker on a ute this morning that read, ‘Cheer up Emo Kids!’ I winced at the ‘I Fish With a Stiff Rod!’ sticker and was bemused as to why you’d advertise the fact that you’re a big Bundy drinker, but I wasn’t offended.

Not so with the ‘FOWF’ sticker. I don’t appreciate my kids having to read this sort of crap on the backs of your cars, on t-shirts, caps or novelty boxer shorts.

Knock yourself out when you’re at your own dinner table or down the pub with your like-minded mates, but sharing the message in public is just dumb. And offensive. What, you think we’re gonna come up and shake your hand, maybe make you PM for a day so you can turn back the boats single-handedly armed with nothing but a pointy white hood?

No, most of us just cringe, shake our heads and hope our kids don’t see it. Peel them off, please.

Digging up the grass

This is the second of my Wangle posts - click here for the original yarn.

Okay, I opened a can of worms by reintroducing the daylight saving debate, so why not go the double by suggesting we dig up Perth’s front lawn?

I might just point out before you start with the ‘if you don’t like it, leave’ mantra, that I was born in Perth, my parents were born here and so were their parents. We’ve all had close connections with the Swan River throughout our lives and I’d be the first one to say it makes Melbourne’s Yarra seem like a roadside drainage ditch in comparison.

But like many West Australians, I think the city would be a far more appealing place to visit when we have a greater range of amenities along the waterfront. At present we have a Bell Tower, The Lucky Shag and a bloody great big, underutilised front lawn.

Now, the idea of a ferris wheel on the Swan never really floated my ferry, but then it wasn’t really about a ferris wheel was it? It could have been a giant model of a dog poo and still made the same point… the Perth foreshore is boring and is crying out for more than just beer and bells. Hardly anyone ever uses all that ‘beautiful, wide open space’ as I once heard it described.

No, the ferris wheel was all about plonking something large and distracting into an area that is grossly underutilised in order to make people sit up and think, ‘okay, if we’ve got room to install an oversized fairground attraction, maybe we could so something even better in that space?’

You see, us Perthites suffer from a rare and degenerative condition known as ‘Lawnus-idioticus’… in common terms, a desperate need to install large tracts of lawn at the front of our homes that run from the front door to the road and are rarely used except for parking.

Take a run through leafy Floreat or Wembley one day and you’ll get the picture. These days the disease is on the wane, but only because developers are cramming as many dwellings as possible on what were once single home blocks.

So what’s this got to do with Perth City?

Well, just as our suburbs were infected with this disease, so was the city itself. All that parkland stretching from the front door mat of our city, right down to Riverside Drive and beyond, to meet the uninspiring limestone retaining wall on the river’s edge, are our city’s very own front lawn.

Sure, a few office workers wander down there to eat lunch and there’s a few games of softball hosted over the weekend, but tell me, when was the last time you made use of the city’s front lawn? Did you stand there on Australia Day, draped in the Aussie flag, tapping your toes to “You’re the Voice” while you watched the fireworks?

Our city waterfront needs a makeover and I very much hope that plans currently on the table will do our city and the Swan River the justice they deserve after many years of neglect. Sure, we have one of the world’s best views from Kings Park, but it’s only a view. How long can you stand there looking at the Perth city skyline before you think, ‘oh well, back to the suburbs, there’s the lawn to be watered…’

There are plenty of good things happening in the City of Perth and Lisa Scaffidi is a powerful force of change who should be applauded for her work.

But now that the ferris wheel is rolling-on to some other destination in need of a landmark, let’s give up our grass habit, get a bit creative and dig up the front lawn once and for all.

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!

A WAAPA of a night at Crackerjack's

The North Fremantle Centre's Crackerjack’s Comedy Club will be awash with guffaws and a cacaphony of chortling as it plays host to an evening of comedy from the WA Academy of Performing Arts (WAAPA).

WAAPA's third year actors will be putting their improvisational skills to the test on Saturday 22 May with their inaugural 'Impro Comedy Night'.

The 17 young actors, hailing from all over Australia and all graduating later this year, will provide the audience with a unique opportunity to see Australia’s stars of tomorrow before they take off to pursue their artistic careers in Australia and overseas.

Leading local comedian and 2009 National Theatre Sports Champion, Glenn Hall, has been working with the students this year on the skills and secrets of improvised comedy.

And this is what they promise...

The actors, inspired by suggestions from the audience and facilitated by Glenn, will create incredible characters and perform outrageous sketches with only seconds to prepare and with hilarious outcomes!

The laughter is, of course, for a cause. The students are fundraising towards the production of a DVD demonstrating their film acting to be used as an example of their finely honed craft and talents when seeking employment in the entertainment industry.

So get a gang together, come on down and join in the fun, laugh a lot and prepare to be impressed – very impressed!

Tickets can be purchased on the door and Crackerjack’s can be found between Thompson Rd and Stirling Hwy in North Fremantle. If you reach the Swan River you've gone too far. And you'll be wet.

Ronald McDonald House search begins

Nationwide search for the faces of Ronald McDonald House begins
Help connect the House with people from the past

Ronald McDonald House (RMH) Perth has launched a national search for people whose lives have been touched by its work providing Western Australian families with a place to stay while their children receive treatment for a serious illness.

In its 20th Birthday year, the charity is seeking to contact as many as possible of the 3,000 families who have called RMH home at some stage since its inception in 1990. The house would also love to hear from the countless staff and volunteers who have contributed to making the house a home for so many people over the years.

Their stories – from the heartbreakingly sad to the joyously happy - will be recorded for a visual history of RMH as part of its Birthday celebrations in November this year.

Executive Officer Alison Salmond said thousands of people from all walks of life had experienced the unique love and support provided by RMH over the past two decades and they could now be living anywhere in Australia.

“We are putting the call out to the community to help us find the children and families we have known over the years,” she said.

“We want to know what the families are doing now and what it meant to have a place like RMH to stay during the days and months while their child was undergoing gruelling treatment.

“We also want to get back in touch with the staff and volunteers who have cooked, cleaned, provided fun and entertainment, and, most importantly, been a shoulder to cry on when families have found life to be extraordinarily tough and unpredictable.”

Ms Salmond said bringing together 20 years of personal stories will be a huge task, “but challenges are nothing new to RMH”.

“We have jumped over some pretty big hurdles over the years and resilience is definitely one of our hallmarks,” she said.

Should you be able to help the House in their mission to reunite the faces of the House, please contact Kellie Hanna at Ronald McDonald House Perth on 08 9346 9002 or kellie@rmhwa.com.au by Monday 31 May.

NewsMaker - Shhhh….Let's hush to help homeless Australians

NewsMaker - Shhhh….Let's hush to help homeless Australians

A Kick-Ass success, or just bad taste?

It would seem that director MATTHEW VAUGHN's latest film Kick-Ass has polarised the community thanks to a foul mouthed, ultra violent (but very cute!) 11-year-old character, Hit Girl (CHLOE GRACE MORTEZ).

Thanks to Universal Pictures, I was able to organise two screenings for the Perth Twitter Community via the Perth Twitter Underground Brigade (@PTUB) and judging from the tweets that came flying back faster than a Hit Girl throwing star, young Chloe was the genuine star of the film.

Indeed, 'when I grow up I wanna be Hit Girl' was a comment I saw time and time again. You can check out the online chatter yourself here.

Last night on ABC TV's At The Movies, David Stratton made all the right noises about Kick-Ass in the first half of his review, but choked on the (throwing?) star rating when it came to the Hit Girl stumbling block:

"The screenplay has some sharp comments to make about the meaning of heroics, and MATTHEW VAUGHN, who started out working with Guy Ritchie and who previously made LAYER CAKE and STARDUST, handles it all with confidence. But you have to keep reminding yourself that it's 'only a movie' every time Hit Girl does her stuff- mega-violent action scenes of multiple killings obviously inspired by the early films of John Woo, starring CHOW YUN FAT (Woo is specifically referenced in the dialogue). These scenes are deliberately over-the-top and incredibly violent and the fact that an 11-year-old is doing the killing - shooting and stabbing bad guys - all of whom die very bloodily - will be understandably concerning for many." (from the At The Movies website)

If you haven't seen it already, check out what it without doubt one of the most entertaining exchanges between David and Margaret in some time. David: 'Can I just say something?' Margaret: 'No'.

Judging from the comments on the At The Movies web page, people are split into two camps - those horrified to see an on-screen depiction of an 11-year-old girl dropping the 'C' bomb and taking off baddies' heads with a machete, and those who see it as one of the most refreshingly stylised superhero films to come out of the US in many years.

Make no mistake, I'm a father of three and I have no desire to see my five-year-old princess grow up to blow the backs out of people's heads with a high calibre glock. But nor am I going to take her out to an urban wasteland to fire rounds into her bullet proof vest protected chest to acclimatise her to what might happen when she's mugged by junkies and pimps, aka NICOLAS CAGE who plays her father and fellow superhero, Big Daddy.

But this is an adaptation of a COMIC BOOK. Complete fantasy. It's a vehicle for delivering an outrageously funny superhero flick using characters and scenarios that challenge - no, DEMAND us - to see things in a different light.

Indeed, while some would say that embracing a blood drenched film that uses an 11-year-old girl as a central character is a sign of how desensitised we are as a community, I'd argue the opposite.

Once you scrape away the gore and think about this film for what it really is - a comic book fantasy - I think Kick-Ass actually asks the question why is one form of violence more acceptable than another? Does it really matter if a Rastafarian drug lord is disemboweled by a cute 11-year-old masked girl, or shot through the temple by a rogue middle aged cop?

Park your conservatism at the candy bar, grease-up the bazooka and strap yourself in for some rollicking Kick-Ass superhero fun. Just leave your little princess at home :)

Talking about twitter with the AIM

Random Top 10 Twitter Twips

Someone asked me to put together what must be one of the 38 million lists of top ten tips for Twitter that exist in the ether... so I did.

Keep in mind that this is a list of tips for people in the communications game, but I think some of the points are fairly unanimously accepted across the twitterverse.

Main point being, don't spam my assss, or you will be doomed to #Fail.

@freocookster presents the Top 10 Twitter Twips:

1. The first step on the path to having any influence on twitter is to build a strong network of followers and to interact with this group on a regular basis.

2. Don't soil your twitter nest by rushing in with the hard sell and posting up links to your latest press release - you will only confirm your status as a spam merchant.

3. Be interesting and in turn show interest in what others in your network are saying - re-tweet and share information on a regular basis.

4. Don't be tempted to follow everyone in the twitterverse in a quick fix attempt to build your network - befriending random strangers doesn't work in real life and it won't work online.

5. Be patient, remain engaging and the right people will follow you in time.

6. You don't have to follow everyone who follows you, and be super wary of opening links preceded by comments like, "Hey, I saw this pic of you and thought you should see it!"

7. It's okay to be a brand advocate and to share an opinion or response, but refrain from turning yourself into an online ad - it's boring and unlikely to have any cut through anyway.

8. If you want your followers to engage with your brand - or your client's brand - do it in a fun way that makes it a tangible experience for all. Free stuff is always good!

9. If you are in the communications industry, always be up-front about representing your client's interest and be careful about the battles you pick.

10. Remember, without a good network of followers who you engage with on a regular basis, your tweets will fall on deaf ears... be a part of the conversation!

*Thanks to Dom O'Leary for the birdie pic :)

The dead eye opens...

This just in from the Melbourne Desk. Your correspondent is B Hawe, keen observer of the human form, Harley Davidson mechanic, stockbroker and purveyor of fine 'erb... mon.

It was a hot and muggy day in Melbourne yesterday and storms were forecast for the afternoon - on these days I leave the bike at home and take the tram - very civilised, tram commuting.

As it turned out, 2.30pm brought the biggest downpour we have seen in 6 years or something. It was like Brisbane weather in December - hot and steamy.

There I am on the tram at the end of what I wished was going to be a busy day, but was an absolute dud. I sat down opposite a bloke who looked very very unusual. When you're sitting 2 feet away from someone opposite, it's hard to really examine their face in detail, you sort catch glimpses when you can. This poor bastard had had some kind of surgery and it was a pretty good job. But it wasn't perfect. If it were perfect, I wouldn't have noticed anything unusual, but there it was, a scar that circumnavigated his eye socket. It was hard to look at but, like the train wreck, it was hard not to look at.

Unfortunately, to add to his disfigurement, he was not what you would call the most attractive old bugger that you can imagine. He was a bit like Homer Simpson's father, but an uglier version. I tried to draw a sketch of him (attached), but even with my excellent portrait skills, it doesn't do him justice. Have a look anyway. This chap had a face like a smashed crab, he sat with his knees straight out in front of him - how annoying is it when you're on a tram and the person opposite makes no attempt to give you any room. As a result, his knees kept knocking into mine. I moved mine out to the side. It was like they were magnets...attracting each other...knock knock bump touch. Instantly I thought this is just my luck that he'll be on the tram until my stop or a couple before...that drives me nuts. An annoying fellow traveller, you can't wait to get off and they stay on until about your stop. That's NOT civilised. Whenever he wanted to look at something outside the tram, he almost had to turn his whole body. Unusual, but not uncommon.

Did I mention it was hot and sticky? Well it was. Many people fall asleep on public transport here - I'm sure it's the same everywhere. The curious thing is that this chap was no different from us all, even trapped in that disfigured face of his...God I wish I could stop glancing at his mug. He was falling asleep too. It must've been a hard day at the ugly stick factory - I assume he was a tester. I should give thanks that he had no BO as many chaps and chapettes do on days like yesterday. Anyway, he began his impersonation of the nodding dog we have on the back bench of our Valiant and duly started to nod off to sleep.

This is where it gets really unusual. You see he half nodded off. Can you do that? I hear you ask. Yes you can. When you have had what appeared to be a fairly major operation on your looking-gear, chances are that the old eye was no longer of any use. He had a glass replacement. The glass one did NOT fall asleep. That's right, he was asleep with one eye open, it was sort of funny, sort of disgusting, sort of cool. He could, in theory, keep an eye on his wallet and catch up on some shut-eye (not shut-eyes) at the same time. The only thing missing from the whole picture was some drool out of the side of his mouth.

The old saying about talking a glass eye to sleep now hold true and relevant meaning for me.

He then got off.

Media140 comes to Perth

Media 140: Perth 25th Feb 2010

Social Media in the Corporate World: The Impact of the Real Time Web on 'Brand, Marketing & Communications'

Buy your earlybird tickets now here.

From just $187 for the full day conference and networking events.

Originating in London Media140, an international conference phenomenon is travelling around the world in 140 days and hits Sydney in November 2009 and Perth in February 2010.

This innovative conference will bring together a host of prominent and influential speakers to discuss, explore and examine the effects and implications of the real-time web.

For more information click here.

Partners include The West, PPR, CCIWA, AWIA, Networking WA and more.

For sponsorship/speaker/partnership information please contact
rebecca@networkingwa.com.au or @perth140

This conference is for you if you are in the following fields:

-Marketing
-Brand
-Communication
-Online Marketing
-Web
-PR
-Journalism
-Media

or if you simply have an interest in Social Media and the implications for Corporate business and beyond!

Follow the team on twitter
@perth140 @media140
#media140

As a sponsor, PPR will be right in the thick of things, so be sure to follow us on twitter as well for live updates:

@Freocookster @PPRwa

An open letter of thanks

One of the most rewarding aspects of my role in providing public relations services for McDonald's, is the opportunity to promote the work of Ronald McDonald House.

Over the past decade I've worked with some amazing people across Victoria, Tasmania and now Western Australia and have come across some of the bravest families you could ever hope to meet.

I think the letter we received this week (see below) really puts into perspective just how critical the role of Ronald McDonald House is in providing a home away from home for families who are facing what is potentially the most challenging period of their lives.

Please take the time to read this through and then think about what you can do tomorrow on McHappy Day, Saturday 14 November, to make a difference.

Dear Mr Creasey,

On Saturday night myself and my partner Clayton had the wonderful pleasure of attending the Ronald McDonald House Charity Ball.

Clayton, myself and another family "The Rossi's" Jason and Laura were invited as guests of the Cerebos Group who provided us with tickets. This was arranged through the Ronald McDonald House as ourselves and the Rossi's have for a while called The House "home" over the last year or two.

This time last year Clayton and I were two very tired and scared parents dealing with having a new born son who was battling a cancer called Nueroblastoma. We had already been in Perth for a month before Eddie's birth in August 08 as doctors were suspicious of a lump that was previously believed to be cyst.

We were down from Port Hedland having our last holiday before becoming parents when life changed suddenly and completely unexpectedly.

As the lump was growing we were advised not to leave the metro area and we had to make do with our suitcase of clothes until Clayton could return to Hedland to get all the things we had up there for the birth of our baby. Eddie was born on the seventh of August and was taken to Princess Margaret the following day by infant ambulance and placed in Neo Natal intensive care. We were totally unprepared for this turn of events as doctors were positive that once born, the "lump" would not be a problem.

Unfortunately the lump was so large it had pushed Eddie's stomach shut and he was unable to ingest anything at all. After a few days of endless talks with doctors and surgeons an oncologist visited us with the news that she had heard about Eddie and would like to review him as she was certain that he might have a cancer called Neuroblastoma.

Her suspicions were correct and after many tests and meetings Eddie was scheduled for surgery with the hope that the tumour could be removed. Removal was successful but following surgery the cancer spread to Eddie's liver causing many complications and the only alternative was chemotherapy, a path both us and our oncologist had hope to avoid.

So at seven weeks of age, Eddie began treatment and we moved into the Ronald McDonald House.

I cannot stress enough the role The House played in us dealing with such an emotional time. There are many words you can use to explain how you feel when you watch your child fight the battle of his life. Tired, lonely, scared and dealing with the feeling of our lack of control over his health, we were overcome with gratitude and emotion at being welcomed into the house with open arms by the staff and other parents.

We were already exhausted from the ordeal of the last two and a half months, a fact noticed by our social worker who told us to accept some help and get ourselves to the House as we had been living out of suitcases at the hospital for weeks.

The friendships formed and the tears shared at the House all help with the healing you need as a parent. There is nothing like the joy of celebrating with other parents when they receive good news and nothing like sharing a hug when it is bad.

Fortunately at five months of age, Eddie was deemed fit and well to finally go home. There were tears of joy and tears of sadness at leaving the House and the friends we had made, many of whom are now at home with their healthy children.

We still use the house a lot as Eddie will have a follow up program until he is 18 and it is a joy to know that when we fly down to Perth and you are coiled up inside with the fear of a bad test result that at least you have the sanctuary of the house for your time down there.

It is on that note that I would like to thank everyone involved with the ball from the bottom of my heart for the wonderful job done on Saturday night. I was truly overwhelmed sitting at our table watching people bid way over the value on the auction items. Both Laura and I got a little teary knowing that the huge part the House plays in our lives was made possible by the generosity of these people.

One of the most amazing experiences of our cancer journey with Eddie was coming face to face with some of the most giving, amazing, compassionate people we have ever had the pleasure of being involved with, and Saturday night reminded us that Perth and Western Australia is filled with the most amazing giving people.

You guys should be proud of yourselves for showcasing that(and that huge $700,000 raised).

So now we are back in Hedland boasting to our friends about our glamorous night on the Silk Road with the divine food and of course that fantastic band. And I would like to say on behalf of any family who has ever had the experience of the sanctuary provided by the Ronald McDonald House a big thank you and all the best for next year's ball.

Yours Sincerely
Dannielle Aggiss

The Rottnest Island experience

Rottnest Island isn't the most scenic holiday location on earth. The accommodation is a bit rough around the edges, food prices are steep, there are poisonous snakes in the sand dunes and quokka shit sprinkled liberally across all walking surfaces.

Have I put you off? Good, cause to be honest it's my favourite place on the planet and I'd rather keep it to myself. You can have your lush rainforest resorts, or drink cocktails out of two litre buckets in Bali and I'll have my Rotto.

So it was with great pleasure that I spent the last two weeks on the great southern island with Mrs Cookster and the young Cookster clan aged 2, 3 and 10. Having spent much of my childhood on Rotto, marking such memorable occasions as learning to ride my bike and getting drunk for the first time, it was a visit filled with much misty-eyed nostalgia.

In a case of life turning the full circle, I was able to watch my own son come to grips with a bike in almost the exact spot that I had some 35 years earlier. Back then the road on the Bathurst end of Thompson Bay was shaded by Bungalow 5 where our family would spend two weeks every January.

My Nanna Flora was the ruler of that rickety bungalow and in charge of duties including the shooing of rogue quokkas with the broom, boiling the water for the nightly 'bucket baths', preparing the freshly caught herring and procuring the fabled bakery cream buns.

My Grandad Len would work with Dad to set up our illegal 'hose and shower head' set-up in the back courtyard so the adults could take an illicit shower without having to line up and pay for a wash at the shower blocks.

This recent visit gave me time to reflect on those happy days and bring my Nanna back to the island for one last time. Our family gathered on the rocks beneath the Bathurst Lighthouse and scattered her ashes into the waters at Pinkies Beach where she would swim every morning in her powder blue bathing suit and matching swimming cap. Enjoy the stay Nanna, we'll be keeping the tradition alive.

That night I dreamt I was nine years old, lying on my cot on the verandah of bungalow 5, smelling the scent of Rottnest Pines and salt lake foam, reading war comics and rubbing my sandy feet on the RIB army blankets at the foot of the bed.

The next day we learned that a young boy had been killed by a collapsed pillar in a unit not far from where the now demolished bungalow 5 once stood. It was an awful feeling that such a tragedy should take place on an island that's supposed to be about creating treasured family memories.

With sentimentality running high, I texted some rather flowery prose in praise of the great island to fellow Rottnest lover, POST Newspaper journalist, union heavyweight and purveyor of smoked herring David 'Fucking Outrage' Cohen.

Of course, he bought me back down to earth by calling me a "wanker" on his cult blogsite Rotto Bloggo.

So in closing, I shall return the favour DC - wanker - and start dreaming of next October when I'll once again tread the sandy shores of Little Parakeet Bay and wallow in its crystal clear waters.

PR & social media - time to get jiggy with it

I was talking with someone this week about the plethora of social media 'experts' that have cropped up like new season mushrooms over the past 18 months and we got on to the subject of where PR fitted in to the scheme of things.

As PR people we are not necessarily tech-savvy. We have IT people to fix our computers and keep us humming along on 'teh interwebz'. We hang about on the geek fringe, dabbling in social networking... or do we more than dabble?

As a blogger for the past five years I've been around the online community for quite some time and would consider myself to be something of an early adopter in that realm.

That being the case, recognising the obvious benefits that social media could bring to my client communication strategies wasn't exactly a huge leap. If I'm online talking about stuff, then surely there are people out there talking about my clients' stuff that I should know about. And if they're not talking about my clients' stuff, then maybe they should be?

That's where some of those PR skills are handy in sorting out the wheat from the chaff. But it's a double edged sword *damn, I should stop with the analogies already!*

Ahem, anyway, as a PR professional my job is to develop clever communication strategies and execute them in a manner to generate as much positive publicity for the client as possible. It's all about the content and the execution.

It's the same with social media strategy. Good content is critical, BUT and it's a huge BUT, the execution is even more critical. It's one thing to pump out a word doc via email to your media lists and follow up with the schmooze, but that just ain't gonna cut the iSnack 2.0 sangers on the interwebz.

What us PR people have had to embrace in a massive way is the idea that we are now communicating with the public directly. Hello, I'm doing it right now! Sure, we still rely heavily on our dear friends in the media to act as the disseminators through traditional media outlets, but we're also coming to you live straight down that copper pipe and into ur 'puters at home.

This is where the big but comes into play. Okay, you're a PR professional kicking huge goals in the traditional sense - column cms coming out of the wahzoo - and then your client says 'let's get jiggy with it on twitter... can you deliver?'

Then you have to ask yourself, 'can I?' Do you have a twitter profile? Do you tweet often? Have you been networking and building your list of followers? Are you sitting there asking 'WTF is he talking about?'

Think of it this way, how important are your media contacts in the PR game as you move through the years and build those links? Bloody important. It's what sets you apart from a PR newby.

The social media arena is no different, if you don't have the contacts, you're not being taken seriously. That point is quite obvious on twitter - if you don't have a good list of followers, you're talking to no one. Sure, Mrs Kutcher and K Rudd will add you to their list, but are they really going to join in the chat about a new burger or pie you're trying to launch?

Don't miss the boat... just sayin'. But just as important, don't suddenly come trampling into the social media space slinging media releases about left right and centre because that'll end in tears. Remember, you're trying to generate a conversation - spamming will win you no friends... trust me, I've been there, but I'm back.

Take the time to develop your contacts and win their trust. Listen to what the tweeps are saying, share ideas and don't just bang on about your clients all the time. Make them WANT to read what you've got to say.

Please excuse any typos, I'm in the middle of organising a tweet-up in Perth to launch Mrs Mac's new Tex Mex pie. Those Perth tweeps just love a pie and a pint :)