#19 Motherly Advice.

I love my mum, she truly is an individual. I rang her from Scotland to let her know I would be up there for a while.

Her advice?

‘Watch your back.’

Gee thanks mum. Here I was busily hoping to have a good time, I hadn’t thought I should be careful lest I be mugged, beaten up, or heaven forbid stabbed to death.

Noted and appreciated.

#18 A blog by any other name...

It's a question I've been asking myself since I started dribbling on this page.

What exactly is a blog??

I don't mean in the technical sense - although to be honest I don't know that either; heard it once, didn't care to remember - I'm talking about as a writing style. What is it?

Before starting this blog I had little reading experience of them. The only one I had read was the fantastic reasonsyouwillhateme.com, by the brilliant Marieke Hardy - yes her of Triple J fame. Since starting this I have also read parts of Ricky Gervais' hilarious blog entries. This lack of knowing what to write led, does lead, to problems. Is every post expected to be humorous? Is their leeway for insight, interesting-if-not-particularly-amusing experiences? Would a shopping list suffice as a post? Does anyone really give a shit what I think, say or do? (don't answer that one)

This problem has caused a sort of self editing I'm not entirely happy with. I have several perfectly good posts I won't put up for fear they don't fit in with the sites overall theme.

Fuck it.

To be or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them.

You'll get what you're given.

#17 A letter to The Mercury I wouldn't expect to see published.*

The following is taken from a thread to an artice in The Mercury. Had to post it in parts there as it was too long. Enjoy.

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The subject of swearing (coarse language) and its place in society has always been of interest to me. From reading this thread it appears it is of interest to others also. I will, however, bite my tongue and not comment on previous posts; commenting on the article is my purpose here. I admit, the rare times I find myself reading a Barnes article, he is usually at the other end of the playing field to myself. That's fine, each to their own and all that.

Not today.

I love swearing. I fucking love it. It can emphasize a point, ram it home; diffuse a situation, cause a giggle; create comfort, cause threat, break ice.

I believe it is unique in our language, which in turn is the most prolific of all, in that it can be substituted into and or enhance nearly any sentence available in it. If you haven't dropped one into greeting a friend, then you simply have not lived.

I understand Barnes has stopped short of flat out appreciation of the words, but his article is well pointed. The underlying fascination I have had with the subject has always stemmed from a similar standpoint.

Why do people give these words so much power? Our society is built on language, sure, but in essence each word is surely equal to the other. They are building blocks; allowing us to emote feelings, thoughts, desires. It is strange to me to think certain words should be considered vulgar, beneath us as a society. Where would such an idea come from, a hangover from the class structure, perhaps?

It’s a catch 22, I understand that much. Take this power away, and they may very well lose what I love about them. Perhaps it’s better for me they keep on truckin’. Perhaps.

Its supposed vulgarity has been an easy out for many a public figure; take the moral high ground on the subject and you're sure to have someone mention it somewhere, this very article attests to that. I'm naive, yes; my lovely friends (the shits, cunts, and fucks of the world) will perhaps forever be outcasts, or at the very least treated with some form of disdain.

And that, people, is a fucking shame.

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* But there is always hope.

#16 Unusual conversation with an Australian Hostel Worker in Scotland.

Him (While putting doonas in their covers): So, how long you over for?

Me: Three months.

Him: That all?

Me: Yeah, was gonna stay longer, but you’ve got to give your DNA and stuff now to get a VISA.

Him: Geez.

Me: Yeah, didn’t think it was worth it in the end.

Him: Don’t want to give them your DNA, hey. What have you been doing?

Me (Laughing): Yeah, It’s more what I might do later.

Him: I’m heading back in October, then off to Ireland. (Pausing in thought) I wonder if they need all that stuff over there.

Me: Not sure, I only checked for the UK. Why, what have you been up to?

Him: Nah, that stuff was when I was a kid, couldn’t get me for that.

Me: .......

Him: Besides, my mates got done for it, so I doubt they’re even looking.

Me: .......cool.

#15 Sights to behold.

Well that sounds alright! Any prison that's prepared to treat cum with the respect it deserves is alright by me.



Communal cum room is a bit of a worry.



Isn't that just a fancy way of saying showers?


HOW SMALL IS THAT FUCKING HORSE!!!!!!

Now this one had me totally confused.

Is the rider a head mental?

Are they allowed to ride a horse?

Is it wrong of me to ask that?

Then, my brother came to the rescue.

We can't see his legs.

His mother's too drunk to look after him. Happy now?

#14 A memory...

Was walking by some freshly cut grass today. It is one of natures greatest smells. I think I like it so much because it reminds me of my old man mowing the back yard in his short shorts...

Ahh to be a kid again, folks.

#13 Can dinner be breakfast?

First night in I thought it proper of me to eat the local dish for dinner. This being Scotland that is, of course, Haggis.

Fuck me, that stuff is rich!

For those not in the know, which I'm happy to say I was until after I ate the stuff, It's prepared in the following time honoured tradition.

Take all the shit of a sheep that you wouldn't normally give to your dogs, chuck it into the same sheep's' stomach, of all places, and stew the fucker up.

When It was sat in front of me It didn't look too bad. It's served with potato and turnip, and gives off a Shepherds Pie vibe...


This stuff is Shepherds pie on Ice.


The old lady who served me(she also cooked it, this place was small. 10 bodies would have it packed to the door)seemed to hover while I ate. At one stage I thought I wouldn't be able to finish, and she politely bent down and asked, through a smile.

'Had enough, or just resting on your laurels?'

Well fuck you, polite old lady. I'm not done!


Just to spite her I finished it off...


That fucker repeated on me all night, and I could still taste it after I woke up, and had chewed gum. For a brief panicked moment I thought I may taste it forever...

Proud to say I made it through, but have stuck to things I've known off menu's since.
I'm a learning, People.

#12 HELLO EDINBURGH!

I know, it's been a while, but this is honestly the first chance I've had to touch a computer on a week. Sue me.

Arrived into Edinburgh on a lovely Wednesday evening. First people I met?
The hostel was run by a Kiwi, the bar staff that night were two Aussies, and a Sudanese dude. The two handymen were Australians, and the tour guide was a Yank!

My Edinburgh, aren't you cosmopolitan!

Begs the question: Where the fuck are all the Scots??

#11 Two random and unrelated sightings...

Wandering about today brought many interesting sights through my eyes, but two stand out as things I didn't need to see.


1/ An absolute nob was walking around with his jumper knotted around his collar...are you fucking kidding me! All it needed was for the jumper to be pastel coloured and I would have freaked out and thought I had somehow been sucked into the movie Animal House. Please somebody stab this man to death!


2/ Looking around the train station whilst sitting and waiting, something caught my eye at my feet. Someone had hacked up a big loogie, which was splattered next to what I'm guessing was a carefully placed, half unfurled - unused! - condom. Oh! how pleasant...


Till next time, find the joy. Someone else obviously did, bareback presumably.

#10 WTF!?!

"Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."

My old mate Bill’s quote comes in handy at times like these, as written it’s said by an idiot...Really folks, what the fuck is wrong in the seat of Franklin?


For those of you not up with current events in that neck of the wood, Paul Lennon’s resignation caused a recount of his seat. This was from the 2006 state election, when Vanessa Goodwin had her arse handed to her, but took that as a sign she should be in federal politics...and had her arse handed to her again.

Well, long story short, the recast votes gave the seat to Ross Butler...What.The.Fuck.

Ross Butler, some of you will well remember, was principal of NNHS during the 90s.

He was also a cunt.

Really, this man couldn’t teach a prison bitch how to take it in the arse.

Disliked by students and staff, I was fortunate enough to be there for his departure. I’m not a particular fan of violence, and I don’t even know if it’s true, but the rumour that floated regarding his departure (I’ll let those that know it fill you in) from his next position, and indeed teaching in general, brought a smile to my face.

It still does.

Now because he was lucky enough to have ‘big red’s’ redistributed votes land in his lap, he’s gonna be making the big bucks for a while. We’ve always known what a shit judge of character Lennon’s been so it shouldn’t surprise us he chose to have a fuckwad like old ‘Fatneck’ be his third man up...

For those of you living in the region, I pity you.

"Asses are made to bear, and so are you"

WRITERS NOTE: I realize this post is incredibly specific, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Also, those thinking this blog will degenerate into political ramblings are kidding themselves...

#9 Things I've learnt part one.

1/ I hate looking like a tourist. It is ridiculous, I know; that's exactly what I am. But there you go. I've learnt it, didn't say I could explain it...


2/ I’m far worse with maps than I thought. This hasn’t been too much of an issue because point 1 stops me from looking until I’m utterly lost...And even then when no one's about.


3/ I like taking photos but don’t really like being in them, mostly because I’m shit at taking them of myself, which also leads back to point 1. I’d ask a stranger to help, but am paranoid they’ll run off with my camera...And I’ll be too lazy to chase them.


4/ Big Brother is much better when everyone talks in British accents I can barely understand...I have no doubt they are just as headfucked as our own contestants, but a few ‘allo guvnah’s and go on son’s! go a long way.


5/ Cunt seems to be considered a much more vitriolic noun this end of the world; I’ve even had people gasp upon my littering a sentence with the c bomb...This pleases me no end.


6/ I’ve just become a fan those free standing swinging seat things. I’ve been sitting here reading pointless webpages and writing this for the afternoon...In the sun. That’s right, I went there.

#8 For the love of darts...

Darts is for retards and cunts.

There, I said it.

Ordinarily that’s a bit of a nothing statement. Women's golf/lesbianism, if you will. Here, and I don’t have a clue how, it’s almost a national fucking 'sport'.

I am, of course, rubbish at it. That doesn’t stop me from having an opinion though...

The only saving grace is the drinking time involved, which, in a word; brilliant. That and I can’t remember the last ‘sport’ I played in someone’s hallway at midnight.


My brother loves it...

#7 Is that your final answer?

Was watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire today, as you do, when I was surprised by the question for 50,000 pounds.

Who is the current Prime Minister of Australia?

Remember, this was for 50,000 pounds people...

What's worse is the moron didn't know, so he phoned a friend...

He didn't know either.


This shocking revelation leads me to two conclusions:

1/ There is something seriously wrong with the education of these Britons.

or

2/ It's possible we're not quite as important in the world as we like to think.

The Australian in me thinks they're a pack of deadshits...
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Next up: Paul Lennon's resignation shocks the world's leaders. Most questioned provided similar answers.

Paul who?

'Til next time, Find the Joy.

#6 The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Yes, another post about toilets, I'm beginning to sense a theme...
This one was poor form, though. I always seem to be stepping through piss at these places...

#5 I took a dump at shakespeares' birth house...

...and all I got was this lousy blog entry.


Truth be told, it was the entrance building next door that accepted my waste donation, but who's paying attention anyway??


Well as you can guess this week I paid (and $paid$) a visit to a fellow literary great. (Don't pretend this isn't some of the best shit you've ever read. No? Well fuck you, get out of my house.)


To say the least, his house was rubbish. No coffee, no biscuits; just some tossers banging on about people I care nothing about, which was everyone except Bill himself. Apologies to the lovely old lady entertaining us with tales of poppa Speares' glove making business. You were fantastic.


Walking into the house is fairly underwhelming. Dare I say it, to the untrained eye the place was Boring.


It would surprise you then, to hear the house was positively dripping with excitement...Provided you were the heavily goggled older gentleman standing next to said glove lady. I swear he got the horn and his glasses fogged when she waxed lyrical on the various farm animals and finger holes...


Dirty old fucker.


So, apart from the David Stratton looky likey, we all appeared quite sick of it...Unless you were the fucking American family...who asked questions! Are you kidding me? Who gives a shit about how the fucking hide was prepared before stitching started!


It was around this time I walked out.


This may be my cynical side talking, but I have this sneaking suspicion I'm only going to these places for the souvenir shops...


POST SCRIPT - When the time comes that my birthplace is to become a point of pilgrimage, how 'bout we all just say I was born in a barn. An excuse will be needed for why this was the case, of course. Maybe all the inns were full?? People'd buy that, surely??