Wednesday, February 28, 2007

best show ever

Hey, Dad…! was a brilliant piece of Australian television history… for the first two seasons, then “Nudge” (Christopher Truswell) left the show, and things went downhill pretty quickly. Sure, we had all the staple elements of a classic sitcom; the straight character (Martin Kelly, or “Dad”) and the loveable, goofy off-sider (Betty), the three kids, Simon, Deb and Jenny, all nice looking people without a hint of personality, so they really all could have been put into the one character, and the afore-mentioned Nudge, the “next-door-neighbour” character with the one-liners and vacant expression. As the show’s writers ran out of ideas shortly after the pilot, they picked up on the fact that everybody loved Nudge (which is the name of my new sitcom) and decided to base every show around his mad-capped antics.
Enough’s enough, thought Nudge, and he pissed off to do… something. Last I saw of him, he was playing the guitar with Lucky “Bargearse” Grills on The Late Show. So they brought in Matthew Krok, “Arthur Macarthur”, who would soon become known as “The Little Fat Kid from Hey, Dad…!” In a nod to the future, this tubby little shit became every kid; smart-arsed, fat and annoying. He had two expressions, one was the “I’m fat, so laugh at me” face, and the other was “I’m fat, give me sympathy”.
Somewhere along the line, Deb left the show, and was replaced by cousin Rachel; then Simon left and his best friend Ben moved in. I can’t for the life of me imagine why anyone would live with their best mate’s parents, when the best mate was no longer living there, spoken of or thought about by the other family members. Jenny’s character remained, although the actress changed. For the life of me, I have no idea why they didn’t just throw her into one of the giant plot holes that were rife at the time. Oh look, they did. In what is now apparently a common theme in an Australian series, the most useless character in a show is sent off to boarding school. See you later Jen, thanks for coming. See you in a few episodes when you come back as a goth, having had some trouble fitting in, learn a lesson about ‘being yourself’ and then piss off again. So with the original kids all gone, some randoms and some more randoms moving in, it was hardly the ideal setting for a show called “Hey, Dad…!” What else to do but fill up one of those plot holes with some clever writing? Mr Kelly is sick of being called “Uncle Martin” or “Mr Kelly” or “Fagchops” and would prefer if all these people in the house would call him “Dad”. Twisted much, Mr Kelly?
And so Hey, Dad…! began its decline into becoming a parody of itself. “Dad” left the show, and everyone thought, “Well, that’s it. We can’t have a show called Hey, Dad…! without the dad. That would be like having a show called Full House that was about a house that wasn’t full. Speaking of Full House, did anyone else find it weird that no-one really cared that Uncle Joey and Uncle Jesse still lived with the family, even though they were mid-30s? And then Jesse gets married, has kids, and still refuses to move out? Becky must have been pretty patient or super stoned to allow that to happen. How the hell did they find the time and privacy to have sex with 72 other people in the house?
Anyway, Mr Kelly moves out, but the producers decide not to let this dead horse go. There’s still a race to be won here. They bring out the bigger whips and start flogging like no one has ever flogged before (except for Uncle Joey on Full House; that guy never seemed to be getting laid), and replaced Dad with… Uncle Greg. The marketing geniuses realised that a show called “Hey, Uncle Greg…!” didn’t have the same ring to it, and so they went back to that oft-used well, which was by now a dirty, boggy puddle of algae-infested scum that people would normally pay $1 per day to stop some poor starving African from drinking, and Uncle Greg asked the leftover cast to call him ‘Dad’, even though (a) the only thing Uncy Greg and Mr Kelly had in common was that they were architects. Who worked from home. I guess those guys are hard to find, so maybe it was THAT kind of “brotherhood”, and (b) he had other kids that he left behind in his home city, who would probably have preferred to call him Dad, rather than this troupe of fucktards and bogans that now sat around the couch, calling anyone and everything “Dad.” I don’t really think I needed an (a) and (b) scenario there, but I wanted one anyway.
In honour of this magnificent tv show, I am going to ask my mousepad to call me ‘Dad’. And I will in turn call my left shoe ‘Dad’. And then when I change shoes, my other shoe will be ‘Dad’ and no-one will mind.

I salute you, Kelly family, as large and obscure and non-related as you all are, for filling the Wednesday night void from 1989 to whenever it was that someone put you all out of your misery. The best part about Hey, Dad…! was that the sets for the house were also used for Alf and Ailsa’s house on Home and Away. I wish I could say that they saved money on sets and spent it on scripts, but I can safely assume that that didn’t happen.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

i do not like green eggs and ham

So I walked into someone today. That in itself is an awesome story, and should be made into a movie. I would be played by Tom from Home and Away (remember Tom, he was Pippa’s first husband who had a heart attack while driving and died), and as we are basically identical twins, and I figure he needs some acting work, it makes perfect sense. The guy I walked into would have been played by Jonathon Brandis, except I learnt recently that he died last year. So in respect to the dead, that guy will now be played by Michael Hutchence.

I was meandering along the footpath, thinking worldly things (for instance: Last night, I saw an ad for nappies that had some kind of slow-release wet patch mechanism on them, so the toddler knows when they’ve just pissed themselves. I didn’t have this when I was toilet training, and I rarely wet myself these days. What the fuck is wrong with kids today that they need special help to let them know that they’ve got a plastic bag full of urine and baby shit around their waist? And how will letting them know they’re wet help anyone? Surely they’d think, “Well… fuck. I’m wet,” take off their pants and run around the house naked, pissing and shitting on anything and everything they can. I know I would.) and then I bumped shoulders with this guy coming the other way. When I say ‘bumped’ I mean ‘brushed’, and by ‘brushed’ I mean my sleeve may have lightly touched his sleeve. It was quite a hit, it almost made the cotton of my shirt move. Almost.

“Sorry mate,” says I, all apologies and sincerity.
“Fucking watch where you’re going.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” And I turned to walk away, and muse on other things, such as what all the little black bits on the concrete are – some friends I have say it’s chewing gum, but really, do that many people eat chewing gum and spit it out right on the footpath? I mean, there are heaps of those little black blobs, and if it was chewing gum, wouldn’t it be more easily removed? Those blobs are pretty impossible to lift up, if you’ve ever tried (like me), and they sure as hell don’t taste like chewing gum… and then when my back is turned, I hear, “Fuck you, fucking faggot.”
Alliteration aside, it wasn’t the greatest use of English I’d ever heard. “Fuck you.” Is that the best we can do here? Some of the greatest literature known to man hath been borne of the English language. Shakespeare, Coleridge, Yeats and Suess would be rolling around quite discontentedly in their graves, I should think. And I’d know, I’ve been digging around all afternoon, swearing at corpses to see if it had any effect. (note: not yet, but keep trying)

Fuck you. Poor form, English. Take heed on your Spanish cousin:
Mecagum les cinc llagues de Crist, "I shit on the five wounds of Christ," in Catalan. Even better is Mecagum Deu, en la creu, en el fuster que la feu i en el fill de puta que va plantar el pi, "I shit on God, on the cross, on the carpenter who made it and on the son of a whore who planted the pine."
Are you a Swahili mother with a kid in need of Super Nanny’s obvious advice? I am. So I say, Matumbo yangu huzaa maradhi, "My womb has born a disease."
Slightly less harsh, but a shitload easier to say comes from our stoned friends, the Dutch. Krijg de mazelen, "May you get the measles.”
I have been known to dabble in Dinga, a language spoken in Zaire, Mabial agpi-agpi ke mabial nganswang, "[You have] very short breasts like the breasts of a porcupine.” I usually say this to my pet porcupine, just so no-one gets hurt by it. And my porcupine doesn’t speak Dinga.
And thankfully, we have a new “mama” joke. So all you little wiggas out there, read this (or: reed dis, mang!) Melewe silom we ie maragus, "Your mother has yaws," Ulithian (Ulithi is a coral atoll in the Pacific.) Or try Falfulul silom, "Your mother's pubic tattooing!" Gold, baby.
Bi damaghi babat rydam, "I shit on your father's nose," which you can say next time you're hanging around in Iran and looking for a fight. Or you could try Guz bi rishit, which means "May a fart be on your beard."

So Captain Cranky Pants, FUCK YOU. You arse clown.

50 metre Breakfast

With utmost thanks again to Mr Football...

Essendon, the Bombers, the Dons.

Essendon is one of the great AFL clubs*. They are the only Victorian club that has been able to understand what a NATIONAL competition means. 12 other AFL clubs envy the Dons, only the Eagles, Crows and Magpies are in a stronger financial position** Accordingly, Essendon won AFL premierships throughout two different eras, 93 and 00 (An AFL era lasts 3-4 years) The West Coast Eagles are the only other club to have done this.

In 06 the Dons had a disgraceful year, just managing to avoid the wooden spoon. In most years they would have ended up with the spoon, but Carlton were particularly bad. The Dons had 30 goals kicked against them by the Crows, without exaggeration this happens about once every 1000 games, obviously the fans were pissed off.

There was logic behind their terrible form, mainly they suffered a horrendous injury count. Lloydy, their Full Forward and skipper ripped his hamstring off the bone half way through the first game of the season. He'd already kicked 8 goals for the game, he didn't play again for the year. The Dons struggled to kick 8 goals a game for the next 21 rounds. If Lloydy plays a full season he'll kick a ton this year and the Dons will win many more games.

Hirdy plays for the Dons, he is a champion. He looks like a pretty boy, but he is hard as nails. His best is past him, but when he is in the right mood he will rip a team apart. Watch out for him this year, he'll have a couple of blinders. Maybe even ANZAC day.

Kevin Sheedy is the coach, he has been coaching them for 27 years. Much like a heroin junkie, he is never down for very long. He'll be back again this year. The Bombers wont be premiership contenders and it is unlikely they will even make the eight but they'll ruffle a few feathers in 07 as they build for a big 08.

Prediction 9th

*Mr Football does not support Essendon Football Club.

**Any cunt that wants to make smart ass comment about the Eagles, Crows and Magpies all having the name of bird can get fucked. The AFL encouraged the two newest teams to come up with original names because a few jackass were complaining. Now we have the Dockers and the Power. These are the two most fucked up names in Australian sport with the exception being the A-League's 'we are to good to have a nick-name' Sydney FC.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Mr Evil Capper

Thank God for Mr Football.

I'll update again soon, but really, there's not much point, as this guy is pretty damn good.


Collingwood are lead off the field by Eddie McGuire, also known as the Eddie the wanker.
They are lead on the field by Nathan Buckley also known as Bucks. He likes to call himself Fig Jam, and in fact his number plate his FIG JAM.
For those who are by some degree retarded, FIGJAM means Fuck I'm Good Just Ask Me.

Bucks could have been one of the greatest on-ballers and captains of all time, but unfortunately he will just be remembered as another hack who played 300 games but never won a flag. As 'the Messiah' Malcolm Blight says, "you can be good but you are never great until you win a premiership." When Brisbane began building their all-conquering 3 time premiership, 4 time Grand Final, 6 times in row preliminary final side 15 years ago, Bucks was the first one chosen. With Bucks in the side those three premierships could have been four or five and maybe six and he would have been the captain, not Vossy. However, since Bucks is tosser, he threw in the towel after one year with Brisbane and decided he wanted to go to the spiritual home of tossers. That is Collingwood FC. His reason: he wanted to play in finals. Nice one Bucks, you GOAT. Sure he captained the Pies to a couple of GF losses, but who cares? As 'The Messiah' says, "losing a GF is like dancing with your sister, you are a long way from you know where."

Bucks watched on year after year as Brisbane players won premierships and Brownlow medals; they could have all gone to Bucks. Alas, Vossy will be remembered as the great one, not Bucks.

Collingwood will struggle this year. They have a lack of talent, misplaced arrogance and a game plan that belongs in the 90's. They may sneak into the eight, this is only because the AFL is as corrupt as a Palestinian bank and allows Collingwood to play more games at home then any of the 15 other teams.

Have a look out for Joffa, he is the knob that sits behind the Collingwood goals and puts on a golden jacket when he thinks Collingwood have the game in the bag. He'll wear that jacket 13 times this year.

Prediction 7th

Friday, February 23, 2007

Evil tight shorts

Thanks again to Mr Football...

Fremantle Dockers

You can lead a horse to water........

For the last 20 years the AFL have done everything in their power to make the competition even. Fremantle have done everything in their power to be the worst team in the comp. In 2006 they won a final for the first time in their pathetic history.

This team has had some of the best players on their list. However they have given them away to other clubs. They have been the most inept and unsuccessful club over the last decade. They are joined by Geelong, Bulldogs, Richmond, Melbourne and St Kilda as teams that have never won an AFL premiership.

However, finally Fremantle may be just about to emerge as a serious contender. For more than a decade the Dockers have been derided by AFL fans. the Dockers joined the AFL back in 1995 and have only made the finals twice. . They'll play finals again this season and may reach the top four. But they've still got a long way to go before we talk about their premiership credentials.

The bandwagon that is the Fremantle fan base is called the purple haze, I refer to them as the purple faggots.

Prediction 4th

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Mr Football presents...

Carlton Football Club

Once a great club, now a basket case. Carlton has 'won' the last two wooden spoons, and three in five years. This was after a hundred odd years of never having received one. It will require a hell of a lot of luck to not see them finish last again, because they certainly don't have the skill to get off the bottom.

Acting president Stephen "Sticks" Kernahan said, "we are on the bottom - we can't go too much lower". The sad truth is they can; they can be relocated to the Gold Coast or Western Sydney.

Carlton was not always like this, they were once powerful, successful and rich. Now even the South Sydney Rabbithos laugh at them.

A series of events took place that caused the most almighty fuck up in Australian sporting history.

They were:

- They tried to buy a premiership and in doing so broke salary cap restrictions.
- They lied to the AFL about breaking the restrictions and were punished
- Their attempt to buy a premiership was a dismal failure, they 'won' the wooden spoon instead
- They ended up with the most expensive squad in the AFL that was also the worst
- They AFL fined them and banned them from the draft
- Because they were on the bottom of the ladder they lost membership and sponsorship revenue
- Because they had no draft picks they can't rebuild their list, which was already the worst in the league
- Because they couldn't rebuild their list they couldn't win games and attract members and sponsors
- They hired the most expensive coach in the AFL who they could not afford
- The players and the board hate the coach but when they tried to sack him they realised they couldn't afford to pay out his contract
- The coach knows the board and players hate him so his heart is really not in the job

Carlton now has a 9 million dollar debt, the worst list, a ineffectual board and coach that couldn't give a rats arse about the club or the players.
The club is in a worse state then Fitzroy and South Melbourne were in when they were relocated.

Prediction 16th

i'm jimmy dean

You know that song ‘King of Broken Plastic Bottles’? No, neither do I. I doubt it even exists.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Cricket World Cup 2007

Ricky Ponting (captain), Adam Gilchrist (vice-captain), Nathan Bracken, Michael Clarke, Brad Haddin, Matthew Hayden, Brad Hodge, Brad Hogg, Michael Hussey, Mitchell Johnson, Brett Lee, Glenn McGrath, Andrew Symonds, Shaun Tait, Shane Watson.

There’s the list of champions who will take us to dizzying heights in the Caribbean whenever the World Cup starts. Right.

Here’s what I reckon:

Ricky “Chipmunk” Ponting: This guy spits on his hands way too often. Like, between every ball. In a one-day game, this is 300 times. In a test match, it could be thousands. That’s just gross. Chipmunk can bat ok, (walks into his shots early in his innings though) can field pretty well and has no idea what to do when his bowlers are being carted around the ground. I can’t wait for him to break down in tears at a press conference like Kim Hughes did.

Adam “Gilly” Gilchrist: Gilly is my hero, no question about it. Pity the man has lost all knowledge of the art of batting. Here’s a tip to all bowlers up against him in the World Cup: Pitch it full, and he’ll get out. If England worked that out, anyone can. His keeping has been ok, but isn’t setting the world on fire. With Brad “The Rat” Haddin sneaking up behind him, he really needs back in form, or he’ll lose my hero worship, which is a devastating blow. Just ask Scott Muller.

Nathan “Andrew G” Bracken: I like this guy. No nonsense, no personality, lots of hair. The hair-band is a bit off-putting, but is worth at least a wicket every match. Swings both bat and ball a bit, and is left-handed. I hate left-handed bowlers. They probably get me out more than right-handed ones, which is a feat in itself.

Michael “Pup” Clarke: Pup is gay. Seriously. He wears skivvies all the time. Or maybe he’s a Wiggle. Who knows? (or cares) Pup used to have my vote as “next captain of Australia” but has since become one of the worst players ever. Best thing he ever did was get his ugly mug onto an inflatable KFC fielder so he’ll be immortalised that way. Get some runs, homo.

Brad “The Rat” Haddin: This guy is pushing for Gilly’s spot, so I hate him. Is probably a better wicketkeeper and batsman than him, but that’s irrelevant. BOO RAT, BOO.

Matthew “Fucking” Hayden: AAARGH is this guy STILL around? For fuck’s sake, Hayden, just go away. Watch him spank around Bangladesh and Canada in the Cup, and then get sorted out by everyone else. He’ll be like your weird cousin on a road trip – he’s there, but no-one’s sure why.

Brad “Brad Hodge” Hodge: Eh. I have no opinion on this guy. Is probably quite good, but then, considering the rest of the squad, this doesn’t mean much. Good luck, Brad Hodge.

Brad “George” Hogg: Well, apparently we need a spinner, and apparently this guy is as good as they get. I guess we gave up looking for a good spinner once Warney came onto the scene. George has a decent googly, and his wrong’un is pretty good too (hahaha smutty cricket innuendoes). Everything else he bowls is rubbish though.

Michael “Mr Cricket” Hussey: The greatest human being ever. Except he went pretty crap in the matches against England and New Zealand. Needs to wear more zinc to really bring out his cricketing prowess. Rumour has it that he stole Pharlap’s heart from the Melbourne Museum (or wherever it is) and had it transplanted into himself. I don’t doubt this, nor that he performed the operation himself with no anaesthetic, surgical tools or while he was on the Scooby Doo Spooky Coaster at MovieWorld.

Mitchell “Who?” Johnson: Hmm. This guy has some pace behind him, yes yes yes yes yes but we’ve also got Brett Lee and Shaun Tait, both of whom are probably faster and just as useless as Mitchell. His name is kind of like the secret identity of a superhero too, but that doesn’t mean we should pick him. I would have left him behind and taken Stuart Clark, personally. At least that way you’d know someone was going to land the ball on the pitch.

Brett “Bollywood” Lee: The only thing more embarrassing than Lee’s Bollywood performance is his bowling. When his short ball is hit for four, Brett decides the best way to go about things is to make each ball thereafter about a metre shorter. By the end of the over, he’s pitching them on his big toe. Will play in most games and get spanked all over the place, but still get picked because he is ‘the face of cricket’. At least he’s not Matthew Hoggard.

Glenn “Pigeon” McGrath: Nothing in the world is better than watching McGrath when he’s in his rhythm. That’s a big fat lie, there are a lot of things better. But Pigeon is still the best fast bowler we’ve got, despite the fact that he’s 400 years old and bowls slightly slower than he can run. Can’t field too well, and his catching has always been pretty bad, surpassed only by his terrible batting. Glenn deserves to be recognised as one of Australia’s best. Also, his name lends itself to a catchy chant, so he has to be there.

Andy “Andrew” Symonds: My god. The worst thing about this guy is that he’s quite, quite good at cricket. In the same way that Beefy Botham was, I suppose. With his stupid dreadlocks and tub of zinc cream on his lips, he’s just asking to be hated. Grrr. I hate him. I don’t know why. In any case, the guy has one arm, but is still worth having in the team. Here’s hoping he gets to do some more commentary. Rock on, Andy, you dickhead.

Shaun “Mr Personality” Tait: Tait was my bolter for the Ashes last year, and by God I was right. Pity he was crap. But the selectors love him and so do I. Young and fast, so the kids love him, and with an already failing back, so the selectors love him. You can't possibly pick anyone who is 100% healthy. If he fucks up, this might be the last we see of him. When he gets the ball on the pitch, can be quite dangerous, but this occurs so rarely that most batsmen don’t really worry too much about him. My tip – he’ll maim at least one member of the Netherlands team.

Shane “What the fuck?” Watson: Why is this guy here? HE CANNOT PLAY CRICKET. Here’s a tip to bowlers over the world: Bowl it on the pitch. Watto will do the rest to get himself out. And his bowling? Well, if straight is your thing, he’s your man. Without any variety, bounce, pace, swing or seam, Watson is unlikely to trouble too many players on the tour, unless he attempts conversation with them, as he seems as boring off the pitch as he does on. I can’t wait to see this guy fail. He must be the secret love child of one of the selectors; that’s the only reason I can think of for his inclusion. He also reminds me of the fucking dickwit who won Big Brother last year. Fuck I hate that guy as well. If Watson was any kind of Australian, he’d give the spot to someone else. Like me, for instance. I wouldn’t mind a trip to the Caribbean to drink rum and work on my tan, mon.

Now I’m just angry. Thanks a lot, Watson. It’s bad enough that you’re in the squad at all, but to have you last in alphabetical order just gets my goat. GOD YOU’RE ANNOYING.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

this one isn't for you either

I’m talking a lot about television lately. I don’t know why, probably because I’m watching it in the hope that something good might come on. Not likely.

Today’s topic is quiz shows. If there’s a ridiculous quiz format that hasn’t been adopted by our cycloptic friend, then I’ll eat my hat. And not the chocolate one, the other one made of… whatever hats are made out of. Possibly cotton, or some kind of poly-fabric. Sure.

I’ve watched at least one episode of each of the ‘hot’ ‘new’ ‘shows’ that have graced our screens over the last week. 1 vs 100, The Rich List and Con Test. Because I watched Con Test most recently, I’ll do that one first, and make up stuff about the other ones that people won’t remember.

The Con Test

Unfortunately, this is not a show involving Con the Fruiterer or Con from Heartbreak High, which is a shame. Imagine those two together at last. I'd like it to be called CONsequential. The format is still a mystery, but it has two guys who play a character called Con, and it's got Con in the title. It'll write itself. Anyway... Con Test. No Cons in sight, but it does have one of the muppets from Idol on it, that Nathan Bracken guy. And some old duck who thinks she’s hot. Maybe next to Gretel Killeen, sister. But next to Bracks, you’re looking a bit like Reba McIntyre. Now, I’m not entirely sure what she looks like, but her name doesn’t flatter, so picture someone who’s ugly and you’re with me. The show has a handful of idiots who spend all day together trying to convince each other that they’re rich or successful or insanely brilliant. I don’t really see the point of this. If I went on it, I’d wear one thong and a pair of overalls and claim to be an ancient Aztec demon. Graah. That way, people wouldn’t really care if I was smarter than them, they’d be too scared to do anything about it. Graah.

The game goes like this: Answer 8 questions. Each answer you get right, you get $500. No one knows how many anyone else got right; only their own score. If you think you’ve got the lowest score, you can buzz out and take home however much you got right. If you don’t buzz out and have the lowest score, you get shunted out to the ‘Fold Room’ and have to sit with Judith Lucy’s ugly sister and win nothing. After a bundle of rounds, possibly 5, possibly not, the last person standing wanders out the door with $50 000.

This could go alright, if the contestants aren’t as fucked in the head as the ones on the other night were. I’m not sure how saying “I’m the best!” between each round is a “con”. If someone with a hint of personality and a touch of nous is allowed into the game, it might even be enjoyable. But Channel 10 aren’t really into that, so expect another dose of this crap again next week. I give it a B for execution, a B+ for potential and a C for longterm watchability. Overall, it’s 5 and a half apples worth.

1 vs 100

Eddie’s back baby, and he’s still smug and greasy. I swear, that guy must bathe in every oil vat in every fish and chip shop in Australia, and then produce his own grease and sell it back to them. No wonder he’s so freakin rich. I hate that guy.

So he pulls out one contestant and puts them against 100 idiots sitting at the largest panel in the southern hemisphere. They ask him a few ridiculously easy questions – if he gets it right, he keeps going, and for every idiot that gets the question wrong, he wins a couple of bucks. The fewer people there are on the panel, the more money each answer is worth.

Again, this puppy has as much potential as a potential-laden piece of potential pie baked in Potentiala, which is the capital of Potential. Unfortunately, Eddie has employed himself to be the star of the show, so it has a few hindrances. All of them are his fault. It’s slightly quicker than Millionaire, and has a bit more personality. Especially if they keep getting cheerleaders to be on the panel.

My main qualm about 1 vs 100 is that the answers are piss easy. I’m not entirely sure how anyone has actually got one wrong yet. Maybe I’m just smarter than the rest of the world. Probably. My other qualm is that Eddie insists on talking about himself, his ‘other’ show, ‘his’ football team and ‘his’ tv network. Way to mix with the common man, Ed.

This one gets 2 boxes of popcorn for execution, 3 boxes for potential and 2 for longterm. Overall, I give it a used bus ticket and an empty Subway card.

The Rich List

Holy crap. How does this show go for an hour? Or does it? I can’t remember, but it feels like it does. Maybe even longer. I watched two episodes, and felt like I’d eaten a box of scissors – I don’t know why I would do it, or why I wouldn’t stop. That bloke from Deal or No Deal is again thrust into the spotlight, begging the question, “How does one get onto television these days, if they keep recycling the same spastics over and over?” Seriously. Bert Newton has a thousand shows, all stemming from some variety thing he put together late in the 1500s. Daryl Somers is somehow still around, Eddie McGuire keeps hiring himself (I guess it beats reading resumes and having to do interviews and screen tests) and even Larry Emdur is doing something else… maybe Wheel of Fortune, I don’t know. It’s all too much sometimes. I think I need a lie down.

Ok, so Andrew O’Keefe is back at his best, repeating three lines over and over for the whole show. “Is it on the list?” “It’s on the list!” and “If it’s not on the list, you walk away empty handed.” That pretty much sums up the whole concept. Two teams of two idiots each name things (animals beginning with P, for instance) until someone fucks up (“sorry, a paratrooper is not an animal”) and the winners go to the super list. 15 answers about… something (“name 15 out of the 6 billion people on the planet”) and every three correct answers wins you a couple of grand. Piece of piss. The shows that I saw had a bloke that would give Merv Hughes ugly shivers team up with some pansy boy who watched an entire season of Queer Eye in one sitting, who may or may not have won enough money from Channel 7 to buy a large island, and then crash that island into several small islands that they bought, just because they can. It only takes a smidge of intelligence to win this game, so it’ll probably be off air soon, as the station just won’t be able to afford it.

Qualm: The contestants are stupid. Instead of just blabbing their answers out, they discuss every friggin detail with each other. “A penguin starts with P, we could say that.” “No, I want to save penguin for later, how about platypus?” “Is a platypus an animal?” “Of course it is, it’s a marsupial.” “Are they still categorised as animals?” “I think so. Man, now I don’t know. What about piranha?” “They’re fish.” “Not animals?” “I don’t know.” OH MY GOD JUST SAY SOMETHING. Even worse is smug homo man who backs up each answer with some kind of witticism. “When I went to Barbados, they didn’t have penguins there. I love penguins, so I’ll say penguin. Final answer.” Or “I went to school with a bloke whose nick name was Digger. I can’t remember why we called him that, but I do know that his real name is Gary Anderson. So I’ll say Gary Anderson.”

No one wants your life story, chuckles. The Rich List gets a thumbs down in execution, a thumbs down in potential and thumbs way way way down for longterm. Overall, it receives a kick in the gonads for existing and a pat on the head for trying.

If this is what passes for entertainment these days, I will pray to the holy Sarah-Marie for Big Brother to start up again soon. And then I’ll set fire to my feet, and melt them into puddles of skin and feet goo and then drink it and die.

liggest boser

It’s back. The Biggest Loser, Australian style. They’ve taken another collection of fatties and thrown them into a (hopefully) heavily reinforced house in order to get them to lose weight. I watched my first episode last night. Brilliant television, really. Watching a bunch of tubby bitches waddle around, sweating while they talk, subconsciously moving their hands to their face with imaginary pieces of the Colonel’s finest is really my idea of a tops night in.
It kick-started with one group sleeping in tents outside. I’m assuming this was because they were deemed ‘too fat’ to make it through the door. I didn’t pay enough attention to find out the real reason, so I’m running with that.
One of the fatties, I can’t remember their name, they all look alike to me, had decided to leave the house, because it was just ‘too hard’. Well. I’m sorry. I’m sure living the rest of your life will be a lot easier now that you’ve decided to not lose weight. A lot easier, and possibly a lot shorter. Later in the episode, some gay guy and an ex-fatty go to her house to persuade her to come back. We are treated to some Home and Away style acting whereby ex-fatty starts crying when she talks about how “worth it” it all is. It was the most emotional scene of Australian telly since Agro touched up Anne-Marie. Fatty doesn’t buy it, eats them both and says, “No, I’m quite happy with being a fat slag, thank you.” We find out that she has since lost 8kgs and is doing her own exercise and diet program. Nicely done. I’m assuming this means you now weigh 140kgs, you’ve lost the remote to your tv and you can only eat when someone hands you your feeding bucket. Standing up can cause health implications. Serious ones.

Meanwhile, back at Fat Camp, the geniuses behind the show devise some kind of contest where each contestant is tempted by… a slice of watermelon. If you don’t eat it, you can’t win immunity. Eh. Fuck it, it’s 17 calories of fruity goodness. The fact that it’s not coated in chocolate and deep-fried turns a lot of the sweating masses off it, however, so they get given the arse. In some kind of stupid rule twist, the last bloke to even look at the next treat (a puddle of sour cream and a sliver of potato) wins… but as our big-boned, slow-talking host tells us, immunity is “a…poisoned…chalice… and… the… winner… must… do… The Walk.” She doesn’t tell us what that consists of entirely, but I’m using all the power of my brain to imagine that it involves moving one foot after another, in the familiar (to some) left foot/right foot combination. So to stop himself from being booted off the show, the winner has to walk somewhere. Great. Well, he’s on a weight-loss show, not here for a haircut. Might as well get waddling, tiger.

So they all go back to the gym for their regulation five minute work-out. The token Asian bloke gets lumped with Gillian as a trainer. This Gillian guy is wild, he makes Asian man kick this padded bag at least 5 times. The one-legged caper is not Asian man’s style, so he falls over, packs some ice on his ankle for a bit and parks his arse back on the couch. Some other dude comes back from hospital, after suffering severe pork withdrawals. He walks into the house, grabs some food and is happy to finally be around people bigger than him. Some other champion tries to show off by saying that he “spent 40 minutes on the exercise bike.” He did, however, neglect to mention “before I found out that I had to pedal, so I got off it and sat on the couch again.”

Is anyone else really annoyed by that McDonalds ad where the little girl thinks she’s flying her slippery-dip and the boy sees robot monsters instead of construction vehicles? Yeah, pisses me off no end, and those little pasta things look fucking disgusting. I’d rather eat a Fillet o Fish. Gross.

I can’t remember a lot of what happened after that, I was watching a spider on the wall. It was a big spider, man.

Next time on Fatties Go Wild, some other lard-arse wants to leave the show after seeing a treadmill, a fat woman is shown a photo of her toes and breaks down in tears of pure happiness; it’s been so long since she’s seen her feet, and the teams go to the Centrepoint Tower. I would have to hazard a guess and say that the Australian Tourism Industry wants something to rival the Leaning Tower of Pisa, so our hefty heroes all stand on one side of it. Will it work? Probably.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

dream a little dream

As Constable Green took the chalk from his pocket and slowly traced the outline of the beaten, bloodied corpse lying in front of him, he knew that he had taken his first step to becoming a police sketch artist.

Up there Kazaly

Since my “article” (and yes, I use that term loosely) about the cricket, I’ve been inundated with feedback. I have literally received an email from a certain “Mr Football” who has kindly offered to give a rundown on the AFL comp for this year, which I’m sure will excite all you drooling nuffers out there.

Adelaide Crows:
The Crows will be in for a tough year in 07. After playing in the finals for 5 of the last 6 years, inlcuding making 3 prelims, the tide may be turning, and it is unlikely they will be one of the comp leaders again. They will probably make the finals, but winning the flag will be a slog. They should be able to beat their pathetic cross town rivals, the Port Shmower. The Shmower are a bunch a fucking useless cunts. they have a reputation for having sex with their sisters, and a fetish for their mum's mickey juice. Very few people that live in Port Adelaide have made it past year 4 at school. Mainly becuase their parents were too drug fucked to enroll them.

Brisbane Lions:
Several punters referred to the Brisbane Lions as the team of the century after winning premierships in 2001, 2002, 2003. I wish these jerkoff's would let me use their time machine cos they have obviously gone to the year 2099 to read up on the what happened during the past 95 odd years. What a bunch of tossers, Steve Quaterman being the main one. If I had time machine I would find out what the winning lotto numbers where every week, win lotto and then give all the money to Bill Gates, he is going to end up with it anyway.

The Lions had a poor year in 2006; there were may distractions in Brisbane. Firstly Jason Akermanis was busy being a dickhead. It's not the first time he has been a dickhead and it won't be the last. The other distraction was Lee "Lethal" Mathews and his Devine Home commercials. The chick in that commercial is super hot, no wonder Lethal was unable to focus on football. He was probably thinking about the chick the whole time. Mal Michael left the club at the end of 06, he retired for about 5 minutes and then came out of retirement and will play for Essendon. It was bit of a down and dirty thing to do. Eddie Maguire probably had something to do with it. He has been trying to stuff Brisbane up for years. Basically ever since the Lions knocked the Pies of in the GF (twice). Eddie fails to see that the Pies didn't deserve to be there in the first place and were just a bunch of hacks that fluked it. Poor Eddie, he can have all the success in the world but he barracks for the Pies so he will always be a loser.

I am predicting Brisbane to be outside of the finals again, not enough depth just yet. They are moving the right direction though and will cause a surprise or two along the way. Prediction 10th.

- Mr Football

Friday, February 02, 2007

what's on second
So… Shane Watson is our new saviour of the world, is he? Last year he was touted as the next “Freddy Fucking Flintoff”, after Freddy took the Aussies apart in England. We jumped on the bandwagon and decided that we needed a bloke who could bat a bit, bowl a bit and have some room for a couple of tatts. Well, Watto is a fair unit, so he’s got the inking side of things down pat. It’s the other things that worry me. The guy is useless at cricket. Can’t bowl, can’t throw. Looks like a hat full of arseholes to boot.

He also breaks down after bowling 3 overs (of rubbish). How hard is it, Shano, to piff down 18 (wide) deliveries without ripping open your hamstring? Are you that fragile? We already have a decent bowler who is always injured, and has a highest test score of 201 not out, and he can’t get a game either. You might have heard of him, a certain Jason Gillespie.

As a batsman, Watson reminds me of a guy I played cricket with in under 11s. In the first game of the season, this kid stood at the crease and swung his fat little heart out, regardless of where the ball was coming from. He ended up scoring about 30 runs in 2 overs, and was regarded by many as the greatest since The Don. Unfortunately, he tried to re-enact his heroics every week for the next 3 seasons. Couldn’t quite do it, and was the only guy on the team that got more ducks than I did (I may have made that last bit up). That’s you, Watto, you tubby piece of shit. Stop being such a homo and learn how to play cricket. Being from Tasmania is no longer an excuse.

Crickwah up the doosrah

Because the Paceman ( seems to have relinquished his post to keep the world up-to-date with sport tips, results and happenings, I’ll do my very best to carry on his work, but without his humour or witticisms, and I will only make mention of the sports that I like. AFL and rugby union need not apply. Well, maybe AFL if I get really bored, and union if I’m even more bored.

Which basically just leaves the cricket. Australia vs New Zealand vs England. Hardly a contest really. Australia to meet the Kiwis in the finals. The Kiwis will win one game, but the might of the pack-hunting egos will reign supreme in the end. England should make it through the summer without beating the Aussies at anything except being a mob of unwashed tools. Sorry Poms, but that’s just how it is. Deal with it, and next time you win an Ashes series (could be another 98 years though), don’t get so fucking cocky.
You have the world’s ugliest fast bowler in Matty Hoggard, the world’s worst fast bowler in Steve Harmison and the world’s most overrated fucktard in Kevin Pieterson. So the game in Sydney today should be another one-sided affair with England hoping to bat first and make about 20, then let Australia chase that. Then they’ll hit the beach for the next few hours and hopefully piss off home again before their pasty skin blinds anymore unfortunate Australians.
As I mentioned, the Black Caps will most likely beat Australia in one game, and then be soundly thrashed in the next. Look for Hussey to keep everything together, McGrath to take a swag of wickets and Bracken to beat the bat on twelve consecutive deliveries, then get carted for a thousand in his next two overs.

Daniel Vettori is, as always, the Kiwis only hope, and will use the fact that he looks like Harry Potter to his advantage and use the “expelliaramus” charm to get a couple of cheap wickets. Michael Clarke, I’m looking at you. Actually, he doesn’t really look a lot like Harry Potter, but he does have glasses.
That Oram fella will again go the tonk, and will get another few runs in the first final, but will fall quickly in the next two. You heard it here first. Hopefully he also makes a few more wanking gestures to Ricky Ponting. Just quietly, Jake, you’re doing what we’re all thinking.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

this one made a whole lot more sense in my head

I think the sasquatch doesn’t make many appearances these days because he’s got a stupid name. He sounds like the name that the media give celebrity couples, like if Sasquelle Jones and Atch McEwan hooked up. If they exist, I hope they do it soon.