Mister Evil Breakfast

Life is a highway

2011-11-10T16:24:00.002+11:00

Whenever I see a single shoe on the side of the road, it proves that the world was once covered in oceans, and a pirate had his leg cut off and replaced it with a stump and threw one of his shoes overboard.

My coinundrum

2011-11-08T15:43:00.005+11:00

People drop coins; these things happen to the best of us, as a general rule. When someone is receiving change at a shop, restaurant, bar etc, occasionally the fingers don’t always agree with the brain, and a handful of silver hits the ground. Whenever I am in the vicinity, the change-dropping frequency increases exponentially.

When this happens, two things occur:

1. I bend down to help the person collect their coins. Instead of being gracious for my assistance, the dropper of the coins will snatch each precious silver piece that I hold out to them and eye me with suspicion as if I’ve just pulled off a master heist to relieve them of fifteen cents. That’s right, dickhead, I carry around FAKE ten-cent pieces that I subtly use to replace real coins whenever someone drops their change. I have a funny feeling that a fake ten-cent coin would cost around eighty cents. Ocean’s 11 this is not.

2. A single coin lands on its edge and rolls past me, and continues to merrily defy physics as it glides along. As I watch it, I know that I have to stop its progress, and a conundrum presents itself to me - how far am I willing to chase this coin? The fact is, the money isn’t mine; I don’t even know the person to whom it belongs, so I don’t really have a vested interest in it, but the dropper has seen me watch the coin roll, so I feel compelled to do something about it. The coin is now a few metres into its happy little journey, so I take two quick strides after it, and bend down to snatch it up. The coin suddenly makes a 90-degree turn and I clutch at thin air and am forced to take another step or two to catch up with it. Finally, I’m able to corner the silver, and pick it up to return it to its owner. There they are, about eighteen metres away, watching me awkwardly chase a coin through a shopping centre.

Feeling stupid, I nonetheless give the coin back to the person who dropped it, someone who probably wouldn’t give a shit if they dropped twenty cents, let alone chase it for a half-marathon, let alone chase someone else’s coin. As I return it to them, I will attempt to be uber-casual and instead of handing the money back to them, the coin will drop to the ground once again. In a perfect world, we’d just laugh it off before having a beer together. In this world though, I usually dig through my own pockets for a coin and give it to them so they don’t have to chase theirs again. Sometimes, those things just need to be set free.

Shit. These coins have adopted the Phalanx formation. I have no chance

Horses, start your engines

2011-10-31T17:39:00.006+11:00

It’s that time of year again that the nation stops doing whatever it's doing so we can watch a couple of horses prance around a field whilst carrying a dwarf atop their back. If there’s a better Australian tradition, then it means I’ve forgotten about Australia Day, the day after Australia Day, any day where there’s a cricket match on, and every other fucking day except for Melbourne Cup Day.

This year, the awesomeness of the Cup extends itself to the famewhores of the United States of Merica, as Sarah Jessica Parker intends on making an appearance. For a $40,000 appearance fee. To spruik her new movie. That no one will see. That she received a few million dollars to appear in. That is a piece of shit.

It is nice that SJP gets to attend the Cup this year though – (a) it’s most likely the last time anyone will have to hear her fucking name again, and (b) she gets to be among people of her own disposition.

There is also a rumour that Kim Kardashian is also going to be there, perhaps to form the back half of a pantomime horse (with Sarah Parker up front), if her schedule of doing … uuuh… allows it. This is a genius move from the Cup Public Relations people, as they try to tap into the elusive “vapid 15-year old slut” market, as they are the only people who would think that Kardashian has any actual value, other than Kardashian herself (another easy $45,000 for her). Kim will also be unveiling her new perfume range. That smells like her last perfume range. That she had no part of making. That she doesn’t wear. For those who won’t be able to be there in person, we’ll just have to make do with watching her on all four of her identical reality TV shows.

But by far the biggest name appearing this year is Brynne Edelstein. Oh wait, I mean “the biggest fuckwit.” I hate this old bag and I hope she gets eaten by a rabid horse. In fact, I hate this whole fucking day – why do we have "A-List" "Celebrities" from America and Cirque du Soleil acrobats doing hour-long trapeze shows in a “tent” made out of diamonds, with a butterfly house being set up by Myer? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH FUCKING HORSES?

The only sensible thing that happened this year in an attempt to drum up some national pride for the Melbourne Cup was some champion deciding to make a movie about the Cup. They called it The Cup. It had that bloke from The Castle in it. Unfortunately it looked shit boring and fairly depressing and was about jockeys. No one saw it. Because it was boring and about jockeys. And not really funny at all.

But who am I to piss all over this great day? Australians, grab yourself a chicken leg (the traditional meal for this traditional day), head to the TAB, pop on a stupid hat and get acceptably drunk at work. My money’s on Sarah Jessica Parker, but only if she’s being ridden by the guy from The Castle. Even though he’s not funny any more. Except on those ads.

NRL 2011 GRAND FINAL

2011-09-30T14:55:00.004+10:00

This is it? The grand final already? Man, it only feels like eighty-three years ago that the season kicked off.

What a year we’ve had – the Raiders were victorious in round one, Mark Gasnier retired, Darren Lockyer single-handedly won State of Origin and Billy Slater was identified as the guy in the Prime Possum costume. But the best part about season 2011 is the way that it ended: with Todd Carney on the unemployed list.

As the dust settles on season 2011, it has inevitably come down to two teams to duke it out in the Granny. Personally, I think throwing an extra team onto the field could create some excitement, but some people are traditionalists and just want to let the Manly Sea Eagles and the New Zealand Warriors play.

I think it’s safe to say that both teams stayed out of the spotlight for the majority of the season; Manly only drew attention to themselves towards the back-end of the year when St George decided to lay down their guns and not win any more, and NZ just kept sneaking their way forward, using the fact that everyone kept thinking that because they weren’t Australian that they must be shit as a very effective shield. Even now, Centrebet are offering better odds for Brisbane to win than the Warriors.

Both teams are coming into the match on the back of some shit-hot form, and it will all depend on who maintains their composure as to who will win. Personally, I think both teams have enough young’uns in their squad playing in crucial positions that the pressure of the game could squash their feeble brains. However, if everyone keeps their heads and Manly can get a roll on, they could even repeat their 40-0 demolition of the Storm a few years back. Hopefully that won't happen; for one, no one wants a shitty one-sided grand final; and two, no one wants that amount of smug Manly fans wandering around again.

Mister Evil Breakfast’s Tip:
Manly will probably win – but if you have a lobster that you’re dying to spend, throw it on the Warriors by 13+. Everyone’s expecting a bit of razzle-dazzle footy from the Kiwis, but if they can stick to a controlled and mature game, they’ll probably surprise everyone (including themselves) -the Storm are still undergoing eyebrow reconstructive surgery to overcome their surprise from last week.

This is why Australia keeps losing to New Zealand - they aren't focussed.

MEB cumulative score: 123

NRL 2011 Finals Week 3: Fuckwits and Robocop

2011-09-23T16:49:00.003+10:00

Robert Lui is a fuckwit, and has joined Todd Carney at the top of my “youse guys are fuckwits” list. For the second time in two years, he has been charged with bashing his girlfriend following a Tigers’ season-ending loss. Last year, he was given nine assault charges from the one incident; that’s quite impressive, especially considering that she was pregnant at the time. But boys will be boys, right? And besides, Lui is a rugby league player who abides by different laws than regular people, and has an official “Get Out Of Jail Free” card. Besides, you don’t know how hard it is to earn a shit-tin of money to do something you love, and he needed to blow off some steam by sinking a gallon of grog and then flogging the shit out of someone less than half his size.

This year, police were called following a domestic disturbance and found a woman with bruising and swelling to her face. Lui flashed his “Get Out Of Jail Free” card again, only to see that it had expired just a month prior, and he was subsequently given the proverbial slap on the wrist. The Tigers footy club did the right thing… for them… by calling all of their sponsors to inform them of what happened and then offered counselling to Lui and his partner. Hopefully Lui’s counsellor turns out to be Chopper Reid, or Batman. That’d be tops.

In other news, Darren Lockyer did the most Australian thing possible last week by breaking his face while playing, staying on the field, kicking the winning goal, saved some orphans from a fire, and therefore went down in folklore as the greatest human to walk God’s green earth since that bloke who cut off his head to escape a rock fall in the Grand Canyon, then walked 600kms to staple it back on again.

Since the game, Lockyer has undergone cyborg surgery to have his face reattached (and a gun holster in his leg; it was an added bonus), and has actually taken medical advice to rule himself out from playing this weekend. I am not sure if it’s for his own safety or the safety of those around him in case his CPU fucks out and he starts killing people. Either way, he’s not playing due to safety, which is the smartest thing that any retiring rugby league player has ever done. Remember when Terry Lamb lost the GF in 1994 (I do. Go you Raiders!) and was meant to retire, but then came back in 1995 to try and get that fairytale finish? Yeah, that didn’t work and was embarrassing for everyone involved.

Finals week trio:
Manly vs Broncos
Storm vs Warriors

Game of the Round
Eh probably the Manly/Broncos shindig. It’ll be interesting to see if Lockyer tries to use his new eye-laser on Daly Cherry-Evans or just uses mind control on Sam Thaiday to beat the living shit out of him.

Upset of the Round
It’ll be an upset if a captainless Broncos team can beat the Manly boys. I’d rather slide a few coins over the Warriors, who I kind of forgot about this week. If Melbourne are as memory-deficient as I am, they might even lose. But probably not.

Raiders:
Still last.

This is not going to end well

MEB cumulative score: 122

Mister Evil Breakfast Wants a Farm and a Wife Who Has A Farm (maybe)

2011-09-22T14:41:00.016+10:00

The phenomenon that is Farmer Wants a Wife carries on and continues to grow in popularity, as Australia’s love of blokes with akubras and flannies who don’t mind having flies root on their faces while they try and pick up chicks shows no signs of slowing down.

My last foray into applying for the world of reality television came in the form of a torturous process to get onto Big Brother. Alas, my application did not progress, which is a shame; I could have done with winning $1 million and pashing a few bogans.

The process to get onto Farmer is a bit easier. To apply as one of the hornbag chicks looking to bag a husband, you just have to answer a handful of questions and agree to make out with some bloke who’s been rolling around in pig shit all day. Then you go to the Farmer’s website, click on the farmer you want to go sheep drenching with, and if he thinks, “Oh yeah, wouldn’t mind mucking out her stable,” then you’re in like Old Farmer McGlynn.

To be a bachelor farmer on the show, it’s not much harder. And for a program whereby you basically get a couple of free farmhands in high heels to help you knock up a barbed-wire fence, there really should be a few stricter guidelines. I’ve seen previous seasons of Farmer, and the farmers are traditionally in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, in a massive span of dirt that stretches for motherfucking light years. It wouldn’t be hard for a farmer to ‘accidentally’ lose one of the contestants in a shallow grave just “up yonder behind the creek,” if you catch my drift.

So I’ve decided to become both a contestant and a farmer on the next season of the show. I think I’m in with a chance.

FWAW – EXPRESSION OF INTEREST FORM:
This can be filled out by yourself (a farmer), or you can fill it out to nominate a friend of yours who is a single farmer.
Please email the form to: farmer@fremantlemedia.com.au

Application for Farmer Wants a Wife
CONDITIONS:
1.You must attach 2 photographs in total:
•one head/shoulders

•one full body length
2.You must agree to live on a farm for the length of the shoot, approximately 11 days.
I’m not sure if 11 days is enough time to have sex with all of the women I choose before picking which one I’m going to marry.

3.You must be single and genuinely looking for love.

Just don’t tell my girlfriend/s or wife/s.

4.You must be 18 years or over.

I have a tattoo.

5.We will conduct background police checks on applicants chosen to meet the farmers, and you must agree to this as part of your application.

Good luck; I have my DNA replaced every six weeks.

6.Applications must be received online. Applications received by post will not be accepted.

That’s a bit harsh.

7. For more information please apply.

You shouldn’t have to apply just to get further information, honestly.

If you have any problems filling this in, please call us on 02) 9434 0777

If I have problems filling this form in, I don’t think I’d be able to use a phone. And if I have to apply online and not by post, you should have an email address. Apparently you guys don’t believe in the ‘old ways.’ That doesn’t sound very farm friendly.

Name of Farmer:

Mister Evil Breakfast

Age & Date of Birth:

Old enough to kick your ass. And it's always my birthday, so I’m expecting presents and cake every fucking day.

Phone:

Yes, it’s a really old Nokia.

Email:

Obviously, this is being lodged by email. There is no other way to lodge this shit.

Location of the farm:

Just up yonder, behind the creek.

Type of Farm:

Dinosaur farm

Size of Farm:

Big enough that if you were to run around it, you’d come back puffing and panting.

Nearest Town and Airport:

Nearest town is Montreal, and the closest airport is in Guam. Strangely, the farm is in Canberra.

Do you own your own farm?

Define “own” in both of the senses that you have used it in this sentence. Then define “farm.” That should keep you occupied for a while.

Do you live and work full time on the farm?

Yes, except for when I go to work at the office, which is most days.

Accommodation on the farm (how many can stay there):

Depends how fat they are. You could fit two on my couch, easy.

Does the Farmer know he/she has been nominated?

I’m pretty drunk, so I might not remember it tomorrow.

Has the Farmer ever been married? Divorced?

I’m just married to the job. And my wife. And my husband. Oooh controversial.

Is the Farmer looking for love?

Aaaaaw this is a sweet question. I’m actually just looking for my keys, and I reckon one of the girls stole them.

PHOTO OF FARMER (please insert a photo in this box, or attach on to the email when sending this form)

PHOTO/s OF FARM (please insert a photo in this box, or attach on to the email when sending this form)
One of my brontosauruses showing off.

Free-range gallimimus herd

Free-range gallimimus herd meets free-range tyrranosaur

And that is literally all there is to it. Remember the good old days when you would date people with similar interests to you? Not anymore - with the information held in this application form, you can just imagine the number of great discussions you can have with the man/woman of your dreams about the size of your farm and how you are fully aware that you have been nominated. Actually, having seen the show, that's really not that far off the typical conversation.

See you at the reunion!

NRL 2011 Finals Week 2: It's almost cricket season

2011-09-16T16:10:00.002+10:00

Where has this week gone? In a drunken haze. Oh yeah. According to a calendar that I nicked from the newsagent (I had to get the fireman one, didn’t I?), a whole week has elapsed. In that time, two teams from the NRL comp have been given the arse (hahah suck shit Newcastle, you losers), with another couple to join them on the great burning scrapheap that is finals footy.

There really hasn’t been much to write about this week; Todd Carney is keeping remarkably quiet as he practices writing an “X” in the “sign here” bit on his Cronulla contract, which always keeps things fairly low-key. The biggest news of the week was when NRL Supreme Ruler Dave Gallop got booed by Melbourne fans when he awarded them the minor premiership. Fucking Melbourne dickheads – they really don’t understand sport at all, do they?

But even that wasn’t enough to stop Australians everywhere (but mostly in Australia) from getting all “Aaaaw yeah!” on themselves as they high-fived each other following Samantha “Yessdad I yam lookin aftr meslf” Stosur’s victory in some tennis match. To be perfectly Francine, it’s about time she fucking won. It’s her job, after all.

Finals week two:
Wests Tigers vs New Zealand Warriors
Brisbane Broncos vs St George-Illawarra Dragons

As much as I like the Warriors, I think they’re going to get rubbed out this week. To make things worse, they’re going to get done by the fucking Tigers. I can’t think of a worse team to fuck you over, honestly. God they shit me, and I don’t even know why. It’s probably mostly to do with that Marshall bloke, he seems like a bit of a dick. And he is basically the only player on the Tigers team, right? Right. (Don’t write to me with the fucking Tigers playing roster either, I just don’t care).

The Dragons have been less than impressive lately, and despite me trying to explain it last week (I convinced myself, so that was something), I’m no longer buying their bullshit and they should lose to the Broncs. Easy as.

Game of the round:
Eh. One of the ones above. There’s only two to choose from. You can pick one.

Upset of the round:
Slide a sneaky lobster on the Warriors. It’s pay week, you can get a bit extravagant.

What are the Raiders doing?
Hopefully washing my car. God knows they owe it to me.

Have you ever seen Jarryd Hayne and the Indian deity Vishnu in the same place at the same time? Of course not, and this is why.

MEB cumulative score: 121

NRL 2011 Finals Week 1: Fucking Carney

2011-09-09T15:38:00.003+10:00

I do love it when my most favouritest person in the whole wide world splashes his gormless mug across the country’s newspapers; lucky for me, Todd Carney is a shit magnet. This time, Todd and the Sydney Roosters have parted ways following constant off-field shenanigans and general on-field shittiness. By all reports, the split was 'amiable' and at the very least, it meant that Todd learned a new word this week.

This news has left the rugby league community scratching their collective noodles wondering, “What next for this pillar of society?” There are two main schools of thought (and I never thought I’d use that phrase in relation to Carney) about his future:

One is that you just fuck him off and send him on the first manned expedition into the sun.

The other is that ‘the kid needs help.’

I’m all about firing up the NASA rockets again, personally. For one, Todd Carney is not ‘a kid.’ He is 25 years old. Since the age of fuck-knows, he has no doubt got away with doing little work for huge reward based on his skills as a footy player. I’d be surprised if he can tie his own shoelaces, to be perfectly honest. Whenever he fucked up in the past, someone was there to make sure he was picked up, brushed off, bailed out, paid off, and everything kept all hush-hush because Todd’s just a kid and doesn’t know any better.

Life’s fucked when you’re an adult, hey Todd? Time to stop looking around for someone to throw you a lifeline, tiger, and get yourself sorted out. It’s not up to your club, your mum, the town of Goulburn or your best mate’s cousin Frank to give you a hand. Welcome to the lovely world of Consequence (Todd: if you are getting someone to read this out loud for you, please note that Consequence isn’t the actual name of another world that you have unknowingly travelled to).

The only real disappointment of the week was that when asked about the chances of Carney returning to Canberra, the Raiders said, “Not in 2012; we cannot fit him in under the salary cap” instead of “he can go fuck himself. If he comes anywhere fucking near us, we’ll set him on fire and put him out with a chain.”

Oh, there’s also some finals matches on this weekend:

Wests Tigers vs St George-Illawarra Dragons
Brisbane Broncos vs New Zealand Warriors
Manly Sea Eagles vs North Queensland Cowboys
Melbourne Storm vs Newcastle Knights

While the Dragoons haven’t been in the greatest form of late, I’m putting that little slump down to Wayne “The Great Wayne” Bennett ordering his troops to meander around the field like puppies and not get hurt for the last few weeks. After all, they’d already secured a top eight position so why risk having one of your good players break his leg while tackling Jarryd Hayne?

The Brissy vs Warriors game is almost too close to call. Without Thaiday and Hoffman, the Brisbanes will have to rely on some good ol’ inbred Queensland spirit to get through. Don’t ever underestimate the power of inbred Queenslanders.

Upset of the Round:
I’ll be upset if Newcastle win. They are seriously shit and I’m pretty sure that they’re all hoping that no one double-checks the results book and realises that they’re not meant to be there.

Game of the Round:
Raiders vs… oh. Never mind.

Reasons the Raiders didn't want to win this year #1: Trophies are heavy

MEB cumulative score: 118

Why are you here?

2011-09-08T12:34:00.005+10:00

At time of writing, 18 968 people have found their way onto Mister Evil Breakfast. Who are these people? I don’t know all of them, but I can say that a few of those hits were courtesy of Binky, my helper monkey who has been trained to click refresh a few times each day. That, and chain-smoke cigarettes. I like my monkeys to stay classy.

So how did people come across this wonderous piece of shit blog?

Here’s how exactly (I think you can click it to make it bigger if your eyes are hurting, but it didn't work when I just tried. But you might have better luck):

Some interesting points:

1. I'm not the only one wondering about Jade and Sonya from Neighbours being sisters as well as being of completely different races

2. Someone Googled 1800 06555 06 (the Australian Reading/Writing Hotline) number and managed to find my blog, instead of, you know, the Australian Reading/Writing Hotline.

3. At least one reader had the patience to visit what I can only imagine would be a billion sites that come up when searching for "yung girls fuckin yuorfrinds" before somehow landing on mine. I don't know which page he landed upon, but I hope he found what he was looking for. Probably not though.

2011 NRL Round 26: Angry Breakfast Rant

2011-09-02T14:08:00.007+10:00

Round 26, where have you been all my life?

The 2011 comp is nearly (not quite) over, and it couldn’t help but go down in a massive blaze of gloriously blazing glory this week, with the Manly vs Adam Blair fight dominating headlines. For unfairly being beaten up by six Manly players, Blair was suspended for five games, thereby ending his season somewhat prematurely. Hehe premature is a funny word.

I’ve almost liked Manly this season – fuck it, I’m going to say it – I HAVE liked them. They haven’t been the usual shitbricks that NRL fans are used to dealing with; they’ve played some expansive football and haven’t been massive cockheads about life. But this week… fucking hell. Glenn “Not Guilty… oh wait… Guilty” Stewart decided to fuck the whole year up by being a massive douchenozzle. He was charged with fighting; an act caught by a thousand cameras as well as about 40,000 witnesses, yet still wanted to plead not guilty to the accusation. Fuck off, dicklord – your brother got away with diddling a 12 year old (or something) but that doesn’t mean your whole family has a Get Out of Jail Free card. Upon advice that he would “lose the case” if he pleaded “not guilty,” Glenn fired his lawyer (“me want to win!”) and hired a new one, who somehow persuaded him to plead “guilty” the next day. My sources say the promise of a stuffed toy monkey and a bag of M&Ms did the trick.

It's a pity that Manly decided to ruin it for everybody, because there are a couple of crackerjack games this weekend.

St George Dragons vs Penrith Panthers
Newcastle Knights vs South Sydney Rabbitohs
New Zealand Warriors vs North Queensland Cowboys
Cronulla Sharks vs Wests Tigers
Gold Coast Titans vs Parramatta Eels
Brisbane Broncos vs Manly Sea Eagles
Sydney Roosters Melbourne Storm

Upset of the Round:
Plonk a Stuey Diver on the Roosters to beat the Storm. F*ck it, you won’t miss $5, but the $200,000,000 you’ll get back might come in handy one day if they do win.

Game of the Round:
Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs vs Fucking Canberra Raiders
All eyes will be on this game, seeing as its outcome will have monumental effects on the rest of the competition.

I’m lying of course, this game means motherfucking dick all; the Bulldogs will need to win by a literal cricket score in order to keep their season alive, while the Raiders are safe from the dreaded wooden spoon for another year, somehow having done just enough to not be coming dead fucking last. With absolutely nothing on the line except stopping the Dogs from racking up an embarrassing scoreline, this game is destined to add another rubbish dimension to a particularly rubbish season from the Mighty Green Machine. Better luck next year, boys.

Games I’m Secretly Excited About:
The battle for the spoon between the Titans and the Eels is freakin awesome. You couldn’t plan for the final round to decide who is officially the shittest. This game promises to be more hypnotically retarded than those two chicks who slap each other with pizza.

Special mention must also go to the Bunnies vs Newcastle stoush, which will decide who carries onto the finals. I really hope the Rabbitohs make it; I still don't understand how Newcastle got to where they are. I mean... they suck. Seriously suck. The Bunnies will be missing Greg Inglis, who has succumbed to a nasty break in his Not-Playing-In-A-Representative-Match-So-Fuck-It, which is a small bone in the foot, although seeing as he has been like my bathroom tap this year (hot and cold - see what I did THERE?), I'm sure they'll manage without him.

The Raiders have been experimenting with anti-gravity boots this season. It obviously hasn't worked

MEB cumulative score: 113

Don’t let it go to voicemail

2011-08-31T13:21:00.004+10:00

The end of August is a sad time for every Canberran, as the lights dim on Canberra Appreciation Month and life returns to normal, and we can go back to ignoring the National Museum, declaring the ugliness of Woden and Belconnen, and openly rubbish the Canberra Raiders.

As an end-of-MEBCAM treat for everyone, I have found an ode to the national capital entitled “Canberra’s Calling to You,” written by one Jack Lumsdaine in 1938. Yes, I’m serious, this is an actual anthem for Canberra that I didn’t write, hence the lack of references to the Hyperdome and Todd Carney.

So without any further Amaroo, I hereby declare Mister Evil Breakfast’s Canberra Appreciation Month CLOSED.

Take it away, Jack:

Canberra’s Calling to You

Rolling plains of the South land
Vast and wide and free
Windswept grass waving restless
Green as the mighty sea
Our great Commonwealth of Australia
Founded her new home
From God’s good earth
There came the birth of our capital our own

Like a jewel so rare
In a setting so fair
A city of white was born,
With its gardens of blooms
And its rare perfumes
That greet each sunny morn,
Australia’s creation
The heart of the nation
‘Neath azure skies of blue,
Wherever you are
Be it near or far,
Canberra’s calling to you

The 78m high Australia-American War Memorial not only looks a treat, it also keeps the magpies away

Looks like we've got a whole new Situation

2011-08-30T14:41:00.004+10:00

Move over, Snooki, Guidos and Guidettes! The next generation of reality TV superstars is set to hit our screens in a brand new show that is going to take the world by storm! From the streets of Civic to the cafes of Manuka, welcome to…

Join five of Canberra’s most outrageous personalities for a wild season in the nation’s capital as friendships and relationships are forged, broken and fixed within the same heartbeat.

Meet Tom, from the mean streets of Red Hill and has grown up without knowing real privilege. For his 16th birthday, his parents bought him a new BMW when he specifically had asked for an Alfa Romeo. It didn’t really matter though, as Tom wrote that car off a week later and bought an Alfa anyway.
Quote: It’s just money, don’t worry about it.

Kirryly is a hot bogan hairdresser who has been seen at all the big events, including Kylie’s 21st, Jorda’an’s 23rd and Adam’s going-away party. Asked to describe herself in one word, Kizza replied: “I am a really simple person, like, I like to, you know, like just be me at home, by, like, just on my, you know, on my own, or I love going out and getting off.” Kirrily is nearing 900 Facebook friends.
Quote: FML!

Justin is a 28-year old public servant who works in the IT section of an undisclosed Government department. He has always wanted to try paintballing, but hasn’t been able to arrange it with his friends yet. His favourite food is Cheese and Bacon Balls, and he enjoys email.
Quote: The cake is a lie.

Guy is a professional student, having spent the last 16 years on the ANU Campus, completing at least a year of a range of Arts subjects. He is a self-taught musician and can play the bongos, sitar, and tobacco hookah.
Quote: I’m sensing some strong vibes here.

Angela is a bubbly 20-something year old graphic designer from Hackett. This average income earner enjoys a drink on a Friday night (“or while watching Farmer Wants a Wife!”) and hits the gym with her best friend twice a week. Ange loves travelling and is hoping to do a European trip next year.
Quote: Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?

With Canberra’s unmistakable cityscape providing a playground for the Burley Shore crew, there’s never a shortage of drama. Tom and Kirryly begin a relationship within seven minutes of entering Moosheads (“It was a record for both of us!”), while Angela tries to make awkward conversation with Justin (“he seems nice, but kept quoting jokes from The Big Bang Theory”). Guy refused to even enter the nightclub, protesting that the drinks were better at the Wig n Pen pub, and waited outside.

On Day 2, Tom and Kirryly break up, make up and break up again, while Justin and Guy bond over their common brand of laptops (Apple). When Ange and Kirryly struggle to become friends, Kirryly suggests that they should “Agreeta Disagree,” a ritual that she believes has Pagan influences, and people like “Napoleon and Maximus from Gladiator did to end their fighting.” Justin performs a concert on his sitar to mellow everyone out.

And that's just the first two days!

For Parliament House-flag-sized entertainment (that’s 12.8m x 6.4m), tune into the capital ACTion of the Burley Shore. Coming soon.

Canberra Fact of the Day

2011-08-29T15:12:00.001+10:00

Canberra was going to be the setting for the next series of Underbelly, but had to cancel due to its low-crime rate following Todd Carney’s departure.

NRL 2011 Round 25: Licking the Spoon

2011-08-26T13:35:00.003+10:00

WOAHOHOHOHO (pronounced exactly how it’s spelt) this is a good week of footy – there’s top of the table clashes in what could/should be a Grand Final preview betwixt the Storm and Manly; Newcastle and the Bunnies keep playing for their own survival; the Dragons’ recent shithouse form is going to be put to another test against a shit-hot Warriors side; and everyone else is scrambling to keep off the bottom of the ladder. I’m particularly interested in the Eels vs Roosters game this weekend, which will pretty much be like watching seagulls fight over the last chip on earth.

Parramatta Eels vs Sydney Roosters
Manly Sea Eagles vs Melbourne Storm
Canterbury Bulldogs vs Newcastle Knights
Nth Queensland Cowboys vs Cronulla Sharks
St George-Illawarra Dragons vs New Zealand Warriors
Brisbane Broncos vs South Sydney Rabbitohs
Wests Tigers vs Gold Coast Titans

Upset of the Round:
Chuck a sneaky tenner on the Titans.

Off-field bullshit of the Round:
The Roosters have ‘dumped’ Nate “The Human Soft-Serve Machine” Myles from the club, an entire two weeks before he is set to head off to the Gold Coast to play for the Titans. It’s like sending an anorexic kid to bed without any dinner. Grow some balls, you fucking dickheads. It’s no wonder no one likes you (that, and the whole Freddy Fittler thing).

Game of the Round:
Canberra Raiders vs Penrith Panthers

Canberra Appreciation Month probably hasn’t gone entirely according to plan for the Raiders, having lost all of their matches during this hallowed and spiritual time. Like a sacrificial red-headed lamb with a busted face, captain Alan Tongue has thrown himself upon the pyre in a last-ditch attempt to bring out some Raiders pride for his final home-ground appearance this weekend.

If that’s not enough to bring out a decent performance from his team, then nothing will.

It’s also handy that the Green Machine are facing the Panthers this week, which is about as good a chance as they’re going to get to scrape together a win, like a bloke searching through the back-seat of his car for $5.50 for parking change – it’s not a lot, but it’s just enough to improve his day. Penrith have been struck a few major blows this week, as centre Michael Jennings is out with another drinking injury, and Luke Lewis was ruled out because he just couldn’t be fucked playing any more. The Sanyo Panthers have struggled on the road this year (Michael Jennings must have been driving), which also bodes well for the Canberra lads. Unfortunately, it’s stats like that that create false hope, especially for a numpty team like Canberra.

If the boys can’t lift for Canberra Appreciation Month, for me, for the fans, for Lime Green Milk, for the wooden spoon, or for Tonguey… then fuck em.

Why I don't play NRL #3: They don't like it when you fuck dogs.

MEB cumulative score: 107

Canberra Faqt of the Dei

2011-08-25T16:44:00.002+10:00

Canberrans like to prove themselves more Canberran than other Canberrans by telling them about the last time they remember it snowing in the city.

Canberra Fact of the Day

2011-08-24T16:15:00.002+10:00

The number of spruikers in Canberran shopping centres outnumber the customers by 7:1, which has forced mergers within the spruiking industries. This has resulted in a 10,000% increase in the number of Somalian children signing up for gym memberships.

The distance between us

2011-08-23T17:04:00.003+10:00

In most cities, the concept of distance and time are constants – a metre is 100 centimetres, a kilometre is made up of 1000 metres and so on. Canberra is the only city in Australia (perhaps even the world) in which distance warps itself beyond all recognition. Normally, a ten-kilometre journey is commonplace; you’d barely even mention it on your Facebook update (“LOL just leavnig work for the 10km trek home hope johnny has put the dinner on LOL cant wait for winners n loosers tonite LOL”), but in Canberra, a ten-kilometre journey is one worthy of an epic Greek poem. Funnily enough, when I was picking up some fish and chips the other week, the Greek bloke behind the counter started reciting one, but I really didn’t have time to listen; I had hot chips and a chiko roll to get home, and about eight k’s to cover. I needed all the time I could muster.

Despite the lack of major traffic concerns when driving in the nation’s capital; there’s little congestion, the lanes are wide, the green lights ample, the roads are paved and flat; the laws of time and space in Canberra deter people from venturing too far from their own driveways. It is not uncommon to witness a person from Belconnen begin to shake and sweat uncontrollably once they have ventured outside their own suburb.

Despite constant police warnings about going into districts with a different postcode than your own, many Canberrans still take that risk – and pay the price.
“Hello?”
“Steve, it’s Eric. How’s things?”
“Good mate, how about you?”
“Fucked – my car’s broken down. Reckon you can pick me up?”
“Yeah of course, where are you?”
“Just near Kaleen.”
“…”
“Steve?”
“…”
“STEVE?”
“Sorry mate. I can’t do that.”
“I pulled you out of your house when it was burning down!”
“Yeah, but you lived next door. You didn’t have to, you know, drive.”
“You married my sister!”
“Yeah, but she also lived next door. What was I going to do, marry someone in Hughes?”
“Where’s Hughes again?”
“I dunno, I think they have a good bakery there though.”
“Yeah cool, I think a guy I used to work with told me that. Can you seriously come and get me?”
“…”
“Seriously?”
“Sorry mate.”

“Hello police? A gang of ninjas have broken into my house!”
“What is your address?”
“It’s in Isaacs –”
“Isaacs? Yeah… nah. I think if you remain perfectly still, the ninjas will leave you alone. Their vision is based on movement. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
“Can’t you just come, please?”
“Isaacs? Yeah… nah.”

If you do venture outside of your designated driving zone, please be sure to have all relevant documentation with you, including passport and reason for visiting. You should also ensure that you have the relevant currency for the area you are entering – a phrase book will also help you out. Notify your loved ones of your location, estimated time of arrival and planned itinerary before you leave. Get all of your affairs in order, and for fuck’s sake, AVOID THE BRIDGE.

If you see this bridge, you've gone too far

Canberra fact. Of the day.

2011-08-22T15:03:00.000+10:00

Canberrans have the right to not attend concerts, exhibitions and events due it being “too cold to go out” and then complain that nothing ever happens in Canberra.

NRL Round 24: Kissing Tongue Goodbye

2011-08-19T17:10:00.002+10:00

The questions that need answering for this round:
1. Can Nathan Merrit score three tries to equal Brett Mullins’ record of 11 tries in three games way back in 1994?
2. Are St. George really as bad as they seem right now?
3. Should the Roosters have dropped Todd Carney a long time before now?
4. Are the Knights really still in finals contention?

And the answers are:
1. No. No one will ever equal the try scoring spree set by Mullins, nor will they beat up as many people outside the Queanbeyan RSL, or have a mullet halfway as permed as his was.
2. Yep. They should never have brought Gasnier back, and should probably put Soward on ice for a week, Demolition Man style. It worked for Wesley Snipes (almost).
3. That pin-eyed fuck knuckle shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a footy field, including trying to paint the lines onto the field. You have to be sober to paint. Trust me.
4. Yeah, apparently so. I know, I thought they would struggle without the Chief, but apparently the team has recovered since 1999. Pity the Footy Show hasn’t. WOO.

Round 24:
Penrith Panthers vs New Zealand Warriors
South Sydney Rabbitohs vs North Queensland Cowboys
Sydney Roosters vs Cronulla Sharks
Manly Sea Eagles vs Bulldogs
Melbourne Storm vs St George-Illawarra Dragons
Wests Tigers vs Parramatta Eels
Newcastle Knights vs Brisbane Broncos

Game of the Round:
Gold Coast Titans vs Canberra Raiders

Canberra captain Alan “I wear my heart on my sleeve and my tongue in my mouth and also in my name” Tongue announced his retirement this week, throwing huge disruptions into the Raiders’ finals plans. After the team stopped laughing about making the finals, they went back to planning their end-of-season holiday to Vanuatu. Then they had a few drinks and watched some DVDs (Daniel “Rufio!” Vidot had brought in a pirated copy of the new Harry Potter flick) and hit the showers, confident that they’d done enough to beat the Titans this weekend, thereby avoiding the wooden spoon and giving Tonguey a good note to go out on.

I mean, it’s the Titans. They’re easily the worst team in the comp, and the only thing they have to play for is trying to avoid the spoon, and sending Preston Campbell out with a win after his retirement… announcement… last… week. Oh. Fucking hell.

Even the fake crowd weren't that happy with Orford's arrival

MEB cumulative score: 101

Canberra Fax of the Day

2011-08-18T16:35:00.000+10:00

The floor at Mooseheads is deliberately sticky in order to keep people from leaving once they have entered.

Danberra Cact of the Fay

2011-08-17T16:54:00.001+10:00

Dickson Woolworths refuses to stock their shelves with food items, or hire anyone except for the 16 year old kid who sniffs a lot.

Canberra el facto de dayo

2011-08-16T14:41:00.000+10:00

Canberra roads have an entire lane dedicated for buses, despite the fact that there's only ever one bus allowed on the road at any given time.

Canberra Facto of the Dayo

2011-08-15T13:08:00.000+10:00

If you are 10 years old and own a tin whistle and a hat, you are obliged to stand in front of any shopping centre and play Christmas carols from September until January.

NRL Round 23: Eight tries from victory

2011-08-12T15:24:00.004+10:00

Any week in which Todd “Squinty McSquintenstein” Carney gets caught being a fuckwit and threatened with being kicked out of his club is a good one for me. Happily, that happens around fifty-one weeks a year. The remaining week is a bit of a drag, but it’s right around Christmas, so I can usually find other things to keep me occupied during that time.

For those not in the know, Carney, Nate “Poopy Pants” Myles and Frank “Can I buy a consonant?” Nuuausala disobeyed club rules and got on the piss following a visit to the tattoo parlour. Seriously. The last things in the world that Carney needs are more shit tattoos, and more beers. The trio of upstanding citizens were dobbed in by a cab driver, who has copped a bit of flak for his actions. Personally, I think he did Sydney a favour, as he no doubt stopped someone being pissed on and beaten up; two of Carney and Myles’ favourite past-times.

VIDEO: Retail Therapy for Carney

It’s cute that he’s pretending to know how to read the paper

Other than another step in the inevitable demise of Todd Carnbag, this round is special in that it’s Darren Lockyer’s record-breaking 350th first grade appearance. Honestly, I don’t think it’s that special; it’s only 350 more games than me, and I don’t even play league. I might take it up next year though, and attempt to beat Locky’s tally IN ONE SEASON. Beat that, you gravely-voiced bastard.

Round 23

Nth Queensland Cowboys vs Brisbane Broncos
Penrith Panthers vs Wests Tigers
New Zealand Warriors vs Newcastle Knights
Gold Coast Titans vs Melbourne Storm
Parramatta Eels vs Manly Sea Eagles
St George-Illawarra Dragons vs Sydney Roosters
Sharks vs Bulldogs

Upset of the Round
Pop a dollar on the Eels to rock Manly’s boat, and watch out for a Roosters revival. It’ll be interesting to see how they play when their five-eighth is sober.

Game of the Round
Canberra Raiders vs South Sydney Rabbitohs
The Raiders welcomed Canberra Appreciation Month with a bang last weekend, going down to the Knights in the final 72 minutes of the game. The boys put on a great show, but just came up about eight tries short of victory.

This week, the fearsome men from the ACT will be locking horns and ears with the South Sydney Rabbitohs (sounds like a breakfast cereal. “I always start my day with a bowl of Rabbitohs!”). The Bunnies should be fairly confident going into the match; if demolishing the Panthers last week wasn’t enough to give them a boost, the fact that they’re playing the Raiders this week should do the trick.

It has been a tremendous 2011 season for the Raiders, who were recently unfairly knocked out of finals contention due to other teams continually beating them. Unfortunately for Canberra, peaking in Round 1 was possibly too early in the season, and it was always going to be an uphill battle following unlucky injuries to key players and the constant presence of Matt Orford. Orford will not partake any further in the 2011 as he prepares to undergo groin surgery after falling off one of those Dance Dance Revolution games at Timezone. Daniel Vidot will also miss this weekend’s game to recover from a grade three-level bad haircut and a nasty case of whiplash caused by watching people run past him during last week’s loss to the Knights.

Souths were lucky to escape a great fightback from the Eels last week, who just failed to make up the Bunnies’56-point head start, finishing 50 points short. They’ll have to be more alert this week, with the pillow-handed defensive line of the Raiders looking to upset the Rabbits’ finals dream. Reports from the Raiders sheds indicate that they’re going to tire Inglis and Merrit out – seventeen length of the field tries tends to take it out of you.

This guy looks pretty happy to have been Photoshopped into the Raiders for Canberra Appreciation Month

MEB cumulative score: 95

Canberra Fact o' the Day

2011-08-11T12:33:00.000+10:00

Kambah is well-known to Canberrans as “the largest suburb in the southern hemisphere.” No one has bothered to check it, but it is widely accepted that Kambah is “pretty fucking big.”

Turkey-slapping interstate visitors: A guide to Canberra

2011-08-10T14:30:00.013+10:00

Other Australians have a strange relationship with Canberrans – sure, we are better looking than the rest of our convict brethren, but the city and the people who inhabit it often invoke an instinctive reaction from the 21,000,000 Aussies who aren’t lucky enough to live within the glorious borders of the ACT.

“Where are you from?” they ask.
“Canberra,” is your response.
Now watch their face contort, as if you’d just stirred their drink with your dick and asked if you could turkey-slap their first-born.
“Do you like it?” they ask.
“Yes, it’s a great place to live.”
…and then BANG - the This Guy Likes Living In Canberra look, as if you’d just dug up his childhood pet and started dry-humping it.

“But there’s nothing to do there,” they say.

Actually, you’re wrong. There are multitudes of things to do, and I daresay 95% of them are the same activities that you’d find in any other city in the world. You can play sport, watch sport, eat out, drink coffee, go shopping, visit a museum or gallery, go to university, get on the piss, see a movie, go to the gym, buy a dog, kill a hooker and hide her in a lake. You could do all of this in one day if you really wanted to. Twice, if you’re quick at killing hookers.

“There’s no nightlife.”
That’s not entirely true. If you’re looking for a nightclub that you have to line up for 3 hours to get into, pay $30 cover charge and then $50 for three drinks that you waited for another hour to buy, then you’re probably shit out of luck. Canberra nightclubs have a gold coin donation to get in the door, and the bar staff water the drinks down so much that it would be criminal to charge more than $3 for anything. Let's be straight here; nightclubs are actually fairly shit the world over, but feel free to head out to a Canberra club if that’s your thing. If you’re not having a good time, it probably means that either you’re a dickhead, or your friends are. That’s not Canberra’s fault.

“There are so many public servants!”
True. Canberra is where parliament sits, so it makes a bit of sense to have the people who work for the government live in Canberra as well. It’s called a workforce. Strangely though, there are also other jobs available in Canberra that might also appeal to those folk who live interstate. And then there’s the option of not using your career as a substitute for your personality.

“Your roads have roundabouts everywhere!”
…
“So many roundabouts!”
I’m sorry, I don’t follow your train of thought. Are you really struggling that much to hack on Canberra that you’ve had to resort to our road design? A roundabout is a quick and easy way to - you know - turn, which might confuse some people, especially if they’re from Sydney; a city in which it is not only illegal, but downright impossible to make a right hand turn. Did you know that if you buy a car in Sydney, it has its right-hand indicators removed to avoid confusion? Melbourne has fucking hook turns, which are basically the same as roundabouts, but without a dirty great circle in the middle of the road. And Brisbane has Queenslanders in charge of motor vehicles, so don’t even get me started on that.

I’m not saying that other cities aren’t also tops, because they are. There’s always that special something something about them that differentiates them from other cities, whether it’s the skyline or a monument or a big old ugly building. But don’t come to my fair city and wander around looking for the Opera House. You left that behind, dickhead. Have a gander at Parliament House instead - they're both giant buildings that you'll never go into unless held at gunpoint.

Now help me over here; this dead hooker isn’t going to put herself in a sack.

"Jesus Christ, that roundabout is coming right for us! If only there was a way to turn around! Oh wait..."

Fact de Canberra de jour

2011-08-09T16:16:00.000+10:00

89% of Canberrans are aware of the suburbs of Macarthur and Macgregor, but only 21% know which one is which.

Canberra Fact of the Day

2011-08-08T14:43:00.003+10:00

Instead of replacing or cleaning the easily-and-repeatedly-vandalised suburb sign for Cook, it would be more efficient to officially change the name to Cock.

Round 22: NRL tipping Canberra Appreciation Style

2011-08-05T13:27:00.005+10:00

Canberra is the greatest city in the world and its rugby league team is without peer. The Mighty Fucking Green Machine Canberra Motherfucking Raiders are so good, in fact, that they have opted to give every other team in the comp a chance to win the premiership this year, and have decided not to win many games. It’s just another example of how truly wonderful this team is. I mean seriously, as if the Raiders could possibly lose to the Titans and the Tigers and Manly and Cronulla…actually, pretty much everyone… unless they had decided to give the 2 points away prior to kick off.

It’s the same way you let your little sister get you out when you’re playing back-yard cricket.

Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs vs North Queensland Cowboys
Wests Tigers vs St George-Illawarra Dragons
Melbourne Storm vs Penrith Panthers
Cronulla Sharks vs Gold Coast Titans
Brisbane Broncos vs New Zealand Warriors
Manly Sea Eagles vs Sydney Roosters
South Sydney Rabbitohs vs Parramatta Eels

A few games there that are sure to get people a bit excited (well, as excited as you can be about a game that doesn’t involve the Raiders) – of particular interest is the St George vs Tigers match which will determine just how shit the Dragons are going right now; and the Brissy vs Warriors game that threatens to be a decent contest between two teams who are in good form. To be perfectly Francine, that one is likely to be a 16-all draw.

Upset of the round:

Doggies to beat the Cowboys. I’m not tipping them, but it just might happen.

Game of the round: Newcastle Knights vs Canberra Raiders

Normally, the Raiders would be gentlemen about this game and say, “Novocastrians, please jog past me to score a try; I promise I won’t even attempt to tackle you. I feel sorry for you because you don’t live in Canberra and have access to Questacon every day of the week. Hell, you don’t even have Silverchair anymore, and that makes me sad for you.” But since August is Canberra Appreciation Month, they will stand up for their city and win big to commemorate this exciting time.

Players to watch: Josh “Tampon” Dugan. He’ll be easy to keep an eye on; he’ll be the bloke sitting on the sideline eating pies and earning about $400,000 a year. In the four minutes he plays before being injured though, he’ll probably also somehow manage to score a few tries as well. Although, with Kurt Gidley standing between him and the tryline, it’d be embarrassing not to rack up at least 60.

MEB cumulative score: 91

Canberra Stadium wanted to commemorate the brilliant career of Mal Meninga with a statue. Unfortunately, they could only afford one of Andre the Giant

New Releases $7 each or three for $25

2011-08-04T15:12:00.003+10:00

“Hey look kids, I brought home a DVD!”
“Aw dad, not Weekend at Bernies again - we watched that last week!”
“I know, but I got this one… from Blockbuster in Kingston!”
“WOW!”

When you rent a DVD from Kingston, you can rest assured that you are in for a unique viewing experience. Whether it’s a timeless classic like Predator, or an action-packed explodathon like Predator II, each time you put the DVD into the player, you might as well be watching a completely different movie – or no movie at all!

The staff at Kingston Blockbuster are specially trained not to clean any returned discs, and in fact go out of their way to ensure that each movie has been personally chewed by the store’s manager.

And that’s a guarantee.

You’ll miss entire chapters of the movie, have no sound, mismatched vision and random pauses within the film. Have you ever wished that the Lord of the Rings trilogy just kept going? Then rent the movie from Kingston, and experience that feeling! Do you cry when Leonardo diCaprio dies in Titanic? Just pick up a copy from Blockbuster and there's a good chance he'll never get on the ship in the first place.

"My DVD didn't work when I rented Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I'd like a refund, please."

"Then we just did you a favour. Go fuck yourself." At Blockbuster Kingston, you pay for the experience of renting a movie, not for the pleasure of watching it. Just don’t try and bring it back late, or they’ll take your first born as compensation.

Ooh this looks like a good one.

Canberra factoid of the day

2011-08-03T14:58:00.000+10:00

It is a law that all nightclubs in Canberra play 500 Miles, The Grease Megamix and Blister in the Sun twice a night.

Canberra Fact of the Day

2011-08-02T12:28:00.000+10:00

People opt not to live in Ngunnawal simply because they’re sick of trying to spell it.

Welcome to MEBCAM 2011

2011-08-01T13:21:00.005+10:00

Happy Canberra Appreciation Month for 2011!

Fresh Prince of Canberra

Now this is a story all about Canberra
A place where you aren’t punished for driver error
So shut up about your big cities and how Canberra’s a bore
I don’t see anywhere else with suburbs called Harrison and Forde.

In South Tuggeranong, born and raised,
at the Hyperdome is where I spent most of my days,
Pacific 6, Sizzler, and Timezone were there
Tight black jeans and hightops, kids with rat-tailed hair
When all my favourite shops got boarded up again
I jumped on the 120 and started hanging out at Woden.
When I saw that McDonalds was inside, I knew I was wrong
To have spent so much fucking time down in Tuggeranong.

When you call for a cab, get your bank manager on hold
& when you wait for the bus it’d better not be too cold
If you don’t have a car, you’re right up Shit Creek
Which is as shitty as it sounds and has green algae outbreak.

Canberra has a lot of roundabouts, which some people don’t get
But it makes it easy to u-turn when you’re lost in Rivett
Visitors to the Berra can’t wait to pour shit on ya,
But they can go fuck themselves ‘cause we’re the capital of Australia.

Canberra's Lake Burley Griffin is so polluted that it reflects unnatural light onto the surrounding buildings

NRL 2011 Round 21: The beginning of the end

2011-07-29T15:14:00.000+10:00

Happy 21st to the 2011 NRL comp WOOOOO. I bought you a funky photo frame and a hip flask that everyone chipped in $5 for. Now I’m going to get drunk on your free beer and try and hook up with your sister.

The top eight is still being shaped, with all but two teams (suck shit Roosters and Titans, you dickheads! NERRRR) still being mathematical chances to participate in the finals series. Seriously.

MEB's highlight predictions for the round:
Paul Gallen will be playing so shit-hot that he will quite literally burst into flames. While it will make him almost impossible to tackle, it will also kill him.

Scientists will discover that Todd Carney doesn’t actually squint; he just doesn’t have any eyes.

Mat Rogers will celebrate his 78th birthday with another Titans loss. He’ll thank the same people four times and tell them about the time he was room-mates with Phil Waugh, who he will keep calling “Steve.”

Jarryd Hayne will headbutt Billy Slater. Again. After the game, everyone will tell him that he’s a massive tool. Hayne won't care and will take new shirtless photos of himself for his Facebook page.

Round Vingt-et-un
Brisbane Broncos vs Cronulla Sharks
Manly Sea Eagles vs Wests Tigers
Sydney Roosters vs Canterbury Bulldogs
North Queensland Cowboys vs Penrith Panthers
Newcastle Knights vs Gold Coast Titans
St George-Illawarra Dragons vs South Sydney Rabbitohs
Parramatta Eels vs Melbourne Storm

Game de round:
New Zealand Warriors vs Canberra Raiders

I am a staunch Canberra fan (just because I don’t tip them and call them big nancy blouse-wearing girls doesn’t mean I don’t like them), but when they can beat a team like the Dragons and yet lose miserably to the Storm and the Tigers by massive margins, it makes it a difficult task to remain faithful.

However.

This week, they’re in like Flynn. Their season is hanging by a very thin, very frail ginger pube (everyone knows it’s Tonguey’s, but he’s denying it), which is when the mighty Green Machine plays their best footy. Plus, the Warriors have won their last three games and are probably due to suck. It’s kind of what they do. Inconsistency is a key part of their game plan.

Worst. Limbo. Ever.

MEB cumulative score: 86

Australian Test Squad for Sri Lanka

2011-07-28T11:21:00.000+10:00

I couldn't be fucked thinking of a clever title.

Michael Clarke (captain), Shane Watson (vice-captain), Michael Beer, Trent Copeland, Brad Haddin, Ryan Harris, Phillip Hughes, Michael Hussey, Mitchell Johnson, Usman Khawaja, Nathan Lyon, Shaun Marsh, James Pattinson, Ricky Ponting, Peter Siddle.

This week, Cricket Australia announced the Australian Test squad to tour Sri Lanka. The team basically symbolises the current CA mentality – one droopy eye looking at the past, one glazed pupil looking to the future and one finger slowly fishing around inside its left nostril.

The inclusion of Trent "Nickname Pending" Copeland and Jimmy "Robert" Pattinson is a good thing – nothing will prepare young fast bowlers for Test Match Cricket better than the flat dust-bowls of Lanka, and this will really test their mettle. They will also have the experience of Peter “Remember my hat-trick?” Siddle, Ryan “I’m injured!” Harris and Mitchell "I play cricket!" Johnson to rely on if the young kids start copping some stick from the wristy Sri Lankan batsmen. They're pretty used to being flogged, so they'll be able to remind the new guys that they still get paid, regardless of how shit they are.

For the slow bowling options, CA have opted to stick with their theory of “pick the bloke with the same name as the other bloke we didn’t like,” and have stamped Nathan "Paddle Pop" Lyon’s passport and ceremoniously given him Nathan Hauritz’s baggy white shirt. I have never heard of Lyon before now, but I’ll forgive myself for that (thank you, MEB), as he has only played four first-class games prior to this tour. Here’s hoping that Lyonsie is ready to go for plenty of runs and bowl sporadic spells that will stretch to a maximum of two over stints, as is Michael Clarke’s captaincy plan. Pup Clarke – determined to end bowlers’ careers 6 balls at a time. I'm not entirely convinced that Lyon is the right man for the job, or that continually picking people who have no experience is the way to go, but what would I know? It means that I might get the call up soon.

And then there’s Michael Beer, who some (not everyone) will remember as the bloke who was plucked from obscurity last year to play against the Poms in the final Ashes test. He took 1 wicket and went for plenty of runs, which meant that he fit in quite nicely with the rest of the team. As a result of this average showing (he is an average player who will probably be the first to admit that [second after I announce it, though]), he did not receive a contract from Cricket Australia to perform national duties this year, so everyone naturally assumed they’d seen the last of the left-arm “spin” bowler. But no. He’s back in the team and on tour.

Cricket Australia is treating the Australian team as if it was a reality TV show that was successful and popular when it first came out, until some fucktard genius at the network decided to “spice things up” a bit to boost ratings, and introduced mind-numbing weekly challenges, celebrity appearances, shithouse new rules, planned controversy and events that would “change the game… forever.”

When the Australian team was announced and the headline read “Uncontracted player called up for Sri Lanka tour,” Simon Katich must have pissed his pants in anticipation, dusted off his baggy green and walked sideways to the fridge for a celebratory ale. After reading the full story, he just went back to sitting in a darkened room, hating the shit out of Cricket Australia.

Oooh scary.

walter

2011-07-26T15:45:00.000+10:00

People always say: If these walls could talk, imagine what they’d say?
I think the most common thing would be "I wish I wasn’t a wall.”

NRL Round 20: The week that wasn’t

2011-07-21T14:30:00.000+10:00

It’s 3pm on a Thursday, and David Gallop is sitting at his desk, sweating profusely as he slowly moves his mouse over the “refresh” button on his email.

“I can’t do it!” he cries. “Not again! Not again!” He reaches into the top drawer of his desk and lets his fingers trace the two objects contained inside. One is a bottle of Johnny Walker green label, and the other is a large handgun.

“Let’s see which fuckers have fucked me over one time too many,” he says manically to his waiting computer. He forcefully shuts his eyes and pulls the gun out of the drawer, holding it to his temple in a movement that is too slick to be anything except practiced. With his other hand, he clicks the left mouse button, finally refreshing a week of undelivered emails onto his screen. He imagines what is waiting for him on the other side of his clenched eyelids – police inquiries, rape allegations, drug abuse, Matt Orford’s contract being renewed, Todd Carney punching a midget stripper – and his grip on the gun tightens within his sweaty grasp. He slowly opens his left eye, allowing it to focus on the computer monitor in front of him.

Nothing.

Just two emails – one from Olomjuno Magutu from Nigeria, and the other telling him that Fatty Vautin had commented on his Facebook post about Sam Thaiday’s gut.
Gallop opens his right eye, and releases some pressure on the gun. Again, he clicks refresh. No new emails arrived.

“Well fuck me,” he says, replacing the gun in the drawer and pulling out the bottle of Johnny Walker and eagerly twisting off the cap. “You dipshits are all right.”Round Twenty:
Bulldogs v Parramatta Eels
Melbourne Storm v Brisbane Broncos
Gold Coast Titans v North Queensland Cowboys
Wests Tigers v Sydney Roosters
Sharks v Newcastle Knights
South Sydney Rabbitohs v New Zealand Warriors
Penrith Panthers v Manly Sea Eagles

There are some genuine testicle-scratchers in there this week, and a few top-of-the-table clashes that will definitely get the punters punting about who to punt in the finals. While a few eyes will be watching the Melbourne vs Brisbane encounter, I think that most interest will be on the really shit teams who are all struggling to keep in touch with the top eight, despite the fact that all they’re really doing is delaying their Mad Monday celebrations and a trip to Bali with the boys to bond, celebrate and get herpes.

GAME OF THE ROUND
Canberra Raiders v St George-Illawarra Dragons

The Raiders were just pipped at the post last week in the form of a 26-0 heartbreaker to the Storm, who snuck home on the back of five unanswered tries.

It really has been a shit season for the Raiders, who are still trying to kid themselves that they are still somehow mathematical premiership contenders. I don’t know who’s doing the maths over there at Raiders HQ, but I’m probably not going to ask them to do my tax return. The game this weekend should put the final nail into the camel’s back that is the Raiders’ 2011 season, who are hiding behind an impressive record against the Dragons at Bruce Stadium. As the old saying goes, records are meant to be broken. Except for my Alvin and the Chipmunks record from 1982; that thing is awesome.

There's a reason why St George are coming third, and the Raiders are on the bottom of the ladder, and Canberra will discover that reason (again) on Monday night.

Reason why I don't play rugby league #2: It looks like it hurts

MEB cumulative score: 80

No Gary No!

2011-07-21T12:05:00.000+10:00

Gary lost his hands in a farming accident and everyone felt horrible for him. On the positive side he had tried everything – patches, gum, hypnosis - but nothing got him to quit like those rotary blades.

awkward moment

2011-07-19T12:37:00.000+10:00

I bet there were heaps of cowboys left red-faced after they realised that their town was in fact more than big enough for the two of them.

NRL Round 19: It's Quitting Time

2011-07-15T16:28:00.000+10:00

Big news broke yesterday that Mark “Gaz Gazzo Gazaroo” Gasnier is going to retire at the end of 2011. Bulldogs coach Kevin “Bloody” Moore said, “Fuck that, no big-chinned prick is going to steal my thunder!” so he quit immediately.

Gasnier, you’ve been served. Stop trying to steal headlines, you over-rated fuck.

Moore quitting the Dogs really shouldn’t surprise too many people; they’re having a fairly ordinary season and he was probably a week away from being sacked anyway. The team’s lack of talent probably has fuck all to do with the way he coaches, and more to do with the fact that Ben “Don’t-kick-it-to-me-don’t-kick-it-to-me FUCK” Barba can’t catch.

Stepping into Kevin Moore’s grave is Jim “Oh Yeah I Remember That Guy” Dymock, a bloke who played about a million years ago with varying degrees of success. He spent his first day at Doggies training playing Get to Know You games, including “Heads down, thumbs up” and “Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?” It turns out Jamaal Idris did.

Round nineteen presents:
Warriors vs Bulldogs
Broncos vs Titans
Rabbitohs vs Roosters
Cowboys vs Tigers
Panthers vs Eels
Knights vs Sea Eagles
Dragons vs Sharks

There’s some fairly interesting match-ups in there – Rabbits v Roosters is always a ball-tearer, and it seems like the rivalry between those clubs is building up again nicely, so there should be a good amount of blood shed there. I’ll be surprised if everyone makes it out alive, to be perfectly francis.

Actually, that’ll probably be the only decent game. Everyone else is fairly ordinary. Including:

GAME OF THE ROUND
Raiders vs Storm

This is going to be fucking carnage. This is not a David and Goliath story, this is going to get messy, and there won’t be any underdog come-from-nowhere-to-win-against-the-odds kind of Hollywood bullshit magic from the Mighty Ducks on display at Canberra Stadium this weekend. There’s going to be torture and pain.

Canberra were all kinds of horrible last week against the Sharkies, a crap team in the middle of some good form. Melbourne are a great team in the middle of some great form, which doesn’t bode too well for our heroes in green (no, not the ninja turtles).

The only thing that can save the mighty Green Machine this week is if the Storm go into the game expecting to win, and win comfortably. I don’t see that happening this week though. I’m afraid they’re going to roll over the Raiders like an army made up entirely of tanks, if those tanks were driven by Batman and had flames painted on the sides and pop-up headlights.

Why I don't play rugby league #1: It looks like it takes a lot of effort

MEB cumulative score: 73

Words that aren't on my Nokia #1

2011-07-12T16:37:00.000+10:00

People who know me personally know that I have what is colloquially called “a really old phone.” I don’t even know what model it is, although I’m pretty sure it’s a “Nokia 1.” It cannot connect to the internet, it doesn’t readily accept picture messages, it can’t play music and it doesn’t take good photos. It runs out of battery power after about eight minutes and has a small SMS memory capacity. The screen is cracked and the battery falls out regularly, usually into a glass of beer.

Unfortunately, the default SMS dictionary is as limited as the rest of my phone, and many everyday words have been overlooked.

Words that aren't on my Nokia (hence the clever title of this post):
giraffe
panda
llama
ninjas
kebab
douchenozzle
wombat

(and no, I can't explain why most of these words are animal names)

I don't need a new phone; this one does pretty much everything an iPhone does, except work.

NRL Round 18: This really is a long season, isn't it?

2011-07-08T17:12:00.000+10:00

To the victors go the spoils – congratulations to the Queensland State of Origin team for another dominant display of rugby league. It was an interesting match to say the least.

For me, the game was lost within the first set of six by the Blues, when they kicked on the third tackle of the match. They might as well have taken off their pants, bent over a barrel and asked the Queenslanders to “go nuts.” An early kick isn’t always a bad option, but normally it’s used to gain considerable ground, find the sideline, or have a bloke running after it like a crazy fucking greyhound. The kick found Billy “Thanks, Don’t Mind If I Do” Slater on the full, and he was able to run back about twenty metres without being bothered by anything even remotely resembling a NSW chase.

And that, my dear readers, highlights NSW’s biggest problem during Origin III; their kicking game. For a team with three recognised pigskin-booters, they were unable to find any open space on the field at all. Each kick either fucked off into the fifteenth row of the stadium or went straight down the Maroon’s backline’s throat.

Slater, Dim Sim and Boyd (not the guy who used to be on Neighbours) had their feet superglued to the turf (I should know, I did the glueing), but every kick went straight to them. It was like the Blues were trying to injure Slater by making the ball hit him on the chest time after time after time. The Queenslanders, on the other six-fingered hand, had the ball on a string and tormented the NSW back three with accurate and deliberate kicks. Mitch “Best Halfback in the World - Just Ask Ricky Stuart” Pearce looked like he was a kid in the playground saying, “Look dad look how far I can kick the ball look dad dad dad are you looking look you weren’t looking!” while Thurston and Lockyer were more akin to the other kids who punt footballs at girls and hit them in the back of the head.

It was good to see that the two shittest players in the world had the two shittest games of all time, too. Well done Kurt Gidley and Whateveryourfuckingnameis Minichiello.

Round 18 looks like this:
Warriors v Titans
Eels v Tigers
Bulldogs v Storm
Roosters v Panthers
Sea Eagles v Rabbitohs
Knights v Cowboys

There’s a couple of noodle-scratchers in there, with the Eels and Tigers game promising to be as exciting as watching a real eel and a tiger play football, and an interesting match-up between the Knights (hopefully Gidley won’t play) and the Cowboys, who will be missing Jonathan “Not As Injured As First Thought gimmemymagicwhistlenomnomnom” Thurston. I do enjoy watching the Cowbs play without Thurston – it’s like watching Braveheart if you edit Mel Gibson out of every scene. It just turns into a bunch of idiots wearing dresses running around and yelling in Scottish.

GAME OF THE ROUND:
Sharks v Raiders

I can’t believe the Raiders have another game of the round. It’s almost as if I pick them deliberately every week.

The Sharkies and the Raiders are both resembling teams who have found a bit of form and still have “finals contender” tattooed across their brain. Both are coming off big wins over their respective opponents last week and are riding high on the kind of confidence that you get from punching someone in the back of the head. Someone smaller than you. Who’s asleep. And tied up.

As a team, the Raiders are FINALLY clicking, and Josh “Drop Kick of the Year” McCrone is playing out of his skin. Seriously, he’s like two people out there; a skeleton and a pile of flesh. It’s quite a sight to see. If the mighty Green Machine can knock over a determined Cronulla side who are enjoying some rare wins and even rarer support from their home base, the only thing that will stop them from carrying this momentum through to the grand final is all the other teams in the comp.

My tip: Raiders by eight and at least one more player to suffer a season-ending injury. Hopefully it will be Matt Orford falling down some stairs and landing on a cactus.

Surprise face sex makes a comeback

MEB Cumulative Score: 70

State of Origin III: It all comes down to this

2011-07-05T17:29:00.000+10:00

Whenever a State of Origin series stands at one game all, the cynic in me always thinks, “Well that was a bit fucking predictable.” The money-grabbing cash-cow in me thinks, “Well that’s a good way to get a capacity crowd for (at least) $70 a ticket.” The pirate in me thinks, “Aaar, that’s a scurvy land-lubber if ever I seen one.”

In any case, it does make for a more interesting match, and as much as I have enjoyed the sight of watching NSW try and avoid 3-0 whitewashes in the past, there’s always that point during the game where you see their heads drop when they realise that they’re a bit shit, and the contest itself kind of dies.

This year is different.

No one (aka me) expected the Blues to win the second Origin game; but they did, and got there fairly convincingly on a strong performance by their forward pack. It’s not often that a bloke who plays for the Sharks dominates a game of anything except for the occasional Window Licking Championship, but Paul “Just Call Me God” Gallen put his arse-kicking boots on, pulled his socks up and did the job against the more highly-fancied Queensland boppers. I’m not saying that league players are idiots (because if anyone reads this to them, they might come looking for me and beat me up), but they seemed at a loss as to how to stop the rampaging Gallen, who was playing in an unfamiliar position. The fact that there was a different bloke running towards them somehow impeded their ability to tackle him; I was under the assumption that they had tackled other players before, but they couldn’t work out the body:body ratio required to halt his progress. For Queensland’s sake, I hope that Mal has given them some instructions on how to use their arms against unexpected ball runners.

Justin “Rep Footy or Nothing” Hodges is back for the Toads, making his annual appearance in the centres after the injury to Tonga in Game 2. Hodges’ hamstrings are made out of pixie dust and dreams, are held together with a half-sucked Chupa Chup, and have the consistency of jelly. He is unlikely to make it through the national anthem without limping to the change room for a massage. If he crosses the tryline at any stage of the game, he will be crossing the sideline for a leg replacement soon after.

And no half-arsed Origin write-up would be complete without some kind of tribute to Darren “Muttley” Lockyer, who will be wearing the maroon jersey for the last time (at least until he joins Maroon 5). The Queenslanders will be keen to see him off as a winner – personally, I’d like to see them all sit around and cry because they let him, themselves, their state and their parole officers down by not chairing him off the field in victory.

MEB’s Origin Decider Prediction

I’m going to stick with my head on this one and say that Queensland will prevail. The emotion of sending Lockyer off with a win won’t get to the experienced heads of those around him, and Thurston will improve a thousand per cent on his Game 2 form. NSW have too many “you’ll do” players who are appearing only because of injury for my liking, and waltzing onto the hallowed ground of Suncorp Stadium in front of a packed house of Queensland supporters will blow their simple, fragile little minds. Apparently Origin does that to a person. Hell, it’d scare me too – all those fucking Queenslanders. So few teeth. So much back hair. So few chromosomes. So much shared DNA.

Cameron Smith's blatant beard-rash attack on Robbie Farah's hand went unnoticed by match officials.

NRL Round 17: Third time’s a charm

2011-07-01T17:43:00.000+10:00

Origin Three is dominating headlines again this week in the world of rugby league, as the decider draws ever closer. I may be alone here (hence the fact that I am not wearing pants), but I really can’t wait for this series to be over so we can get back to normal teams playing each other without having to worry about Darren “Strepsils” Lockyer or Paul “Garbage Truck” Gallen being gods on earth.

Or maybe it’s just that there really aren’t any players in Origin (either team) that I want to dry-hump that’s shaking my enthusiasm for the game. I remember back in the mid-90s when State of Origin was like seeing the Raiders vs Brisbane and everyone (me) went home happy, knowing that they’d just seen Big Mal smash Laurie Daley as Steve Walters and Brad Clyde punched the shit out of each other.

Another short round (“You call him Doctor Jones, lady!”) with teams made up of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed youngsters with a spring in their step and lollipop dreams instead of battle-hardened creatures carved from stone and beaten with rusty chains until they fart lightning and feel no pain. And it’s a tough round to pick because of this – some interesting match-ups with the Baby Broncos taking on the Shithouse Eels and a few underperforming walruses in the form of the Sharks and the Rabbitohs locking horns for a stoush that honestly, literally, metaphorically and figuratively could go both ways.

Eels vs Broncos
Panthers vs Bulldogs
Sharks vs Rabbitohs
Dragons vs Knights

GAME OF THE WEEK
Roosters vs Raiders

This game is shaping up to be another epic battle between two teams who really should be going a lot better than they currently are. It’s always a great contest between these two clubs as Canberra tries to unleash hell on their long-lost brother Todd “Fucko McFuckwit” Carney, who must be suffering from the bends with the pace at which he peaks and troughs.

The Raiders continue to astound statisticians and journalists the world over by somehow being a bee’s dick away from making the top eight, despite the only thing they’ve won this year was a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey at Matt Orford’s 40th birthday party. It’s this kind of logic that will carry them to victory in this game.

Also, the Roosters are shit and I hate them.

The crowd (both of them) loves the awesome choreography and synchronisation of the Raiderettes.

MEB cumulative score: 67

an open letter to mcdonalds

2011-06-29T13:34:00.000+10:00

Dear Ronald,

I was a recent customer at one of your fine establishments, and thought I’d drop you a quick letter about my experience.

My McDonalds visit began quite well; I wound down my car window to yell my order at the drive-thru box, and that unmistakable McDonalds smell filled my car – it is indeed the scent of childhood and birthday parties, and according to rumour, also the smell of homeless people being ground up and made into burgers. If there was any hydration left in my body, that smell would have caused me to salivate, but seeing as I was at McDonalds, it meant that I was as hungover as Charlie Sheen and needed all the moisture my body could produce to enable me to speak.

I don’t know if it was my hangover, my disdain for fuckheaded teenagers, or the fact that the fuckheaded teenager taking my order was exceptionally fuckheaded (possibly a combination), but try this conversation when you can feel your eyeballs pulse with every heartbeat:
“Hi, what do you want?”
“Can I please have a large Big Mac meal, a Gr-”
“Is that all?”
“Sorry?”
“Is that all?”
“No. A Grand Angus, a six-”
“Is that all?”
“No. And a six-pack of -”
“Is that all?”
“A six-pack of nuggets SHUT THE FUCK UP and a chocolate sundae.”
“Is that all?”
“And a cheeseburger. And that is all.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. That is all.”
“That’s a million billion dollars, please drive through to the next window.”

It’s at the mystical “next window” that I met the little shit who took my order. I’m not sure why I couldn’t just tell him face-to-face instead of leaning out of my car window and yelling into the speaker, but I’ll leave that up to you to work out, Ronald.

Upon receiving my bag of deliciousness, I drove home, set up a fort made out of cushions and spread out my feast of saturated fats, unsaturated fries and moist ice-cream. On the drive home from the restaurant, I had made a mental plan of how I was going to eat this meal: fries go inside the cheeseburger, take alternate bites of that and sundae (also eaten with fries). Then two nuggets, then the Big Mac, then the rest of my nuggets (while mindlessly stuffing more fries into my mouth). Drink the melted bits of my sundae and scoop out the chocolate with my fingers. Then I would eat the bits of the Grand Angus that my girlfriend didn’t want and finish off with a massive coronary. It was all planned out, Ronald, and it was going to be glorious.

The entrée of fries and cheeseburger began badly when I realised that there was a missing ingredient – the burger. A cross-section of the burger went: bun, cheese, pickle, bun. I am sure about this; I checked it at least twice. I even checked the bag again to make sure that the patty hadn’t been wrapped separately. I know that you are running a very successful organisation, Ronald, I would advise against selling cheese sandwiches. That thing tasted like balls.

The Grand Angus for mains was also disappointing, in the fact that it was a chicken burger with no sauce, and the tomato slice within the burger still contained the stem from the plant (seriously, why are you combining chicken, tomato and cheese anyway? Does anyone actually eat these things before you sell them, or do you just assume: chicken = good, tomato = good, cheese = good, slap them all together and serve them in Grand Angus packaging?) and it looked like the genius who made it wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be lettuce in the burger or not, as there was enough to confuse it for garnish, but not entirely enough for it to be tasted.

The meal wasn’t a complete disaster however, as the McNuggets lived up to their full potential; if anything, I was disappointed that I didn’t get a larger pack. The fries too, were outstanding and hot – I don’t know if this is due to them being freshly cooked, or whether there are new heat lamps being used, and I don’t care. Whatever you are doing there is good by me.

Anyway, that was my McDonalds experience, Ron. While it wasn’t the best time of my life, it wasn’t a complete mess and I’ll definitely do it again soon. However, if I ever get that punk in the drive-thru again, I’m going to climb through that little window and kick the shit out of him.

I hope that things are still going well for you. Say hi to Grimace for me, and you really should make more commercials involving the Hamburglar. I swear that kids today have never seen him.

Cheers,

Mister Evil Breakfast

I see what you did there

Round 16: One Man to Rule Them All

2011-06-24T14:21:00.000+10:00

The big news in the NRL this week has revolved around one bloke, and one bloke only – Jonathan Thurston. Thursty was charged with recklessly tackling a referee during last week’s game (and sleeping with his wife afterwards) and could have been ruled out for two games if found guilty; one game being against the Panthers, the other game being the State of Origin decider, so you can sort of see why it held some importance to league fans.

The entire population of Queensland was beating their collective chest and picking nits out of each other’s fur about the judiciary hearing, as the loss of “JT” (not Justin Timberlake) would have put a big ol’ stick in the spokes of the Origin tricycle. Without the Origin shield to display at Queensland HQ (the Big Gumboot in Tully), the Vancouver riots would have looked like a Teddy Bear’s Picnic, and I can assure you that the “Vancouver riot kiss” would have turned into an all-out Maroon-coloured orgy, with thousands upon thousands of misshapen Queensland babies born nine months down the track, all called “Jaytee” and born with shit-house angel wing tattoos.

But we don’t have to worry about freak zombie children from Queensland (too much), as Thurston was cleared of reckless behaviour (but not cleared of syphilis) and will take his usual place in the halfback position for QLD and the reverse cowboy position with Billy Slater’s wife.

The sounds of disgruntled grunts grunting from Queensland this week have otherwise overshadowed a fairly interesting looking round of fooseball – the Tigers and Bulldogs game should be evenly matched with the Tigers missing the firepower of Benji Marshall and the Doggies missing firepower; the Titans and the Sharks battle it out to prove once and for all who is the shittest team; and the previously top-of-the-ladder St George Illawarra Steel Dragons look to shake off a losing streak against the in-form Manly Warringah Northern Sea Eagles. I love a good merger that people forget about.

Tigers vs Bulldogs
Rabbitohs vs Broncos
Titans vs Sharks
Warriors vs Storm
Panthers vs Cowboys
Knights vs Roosters
Dragons vs Sea Eagles

Game of the round:
The Game of the Round was a hard one to pick this week, as the Knights and the Roosters would have been a good one to dissect (to be honest, I would have just talked about how shit Todd Carney is and why I don’t like him AGAIN), but the eventual winner of the prestigious award is the game between the Raiders (woo! RAIDERS!) and the Parramatta Eels.

Raiders vs Eels
Scoring 24 points in a game should be enough to win most league encounters, and is the exact amount that the Raiders have managed to rack up in the past two weeks before fucking out and finding a new way to lose a game of footy.

NOT THIS WEEK.

The Eels are a struggling team – their attack is predictable and shit (and predictably shit), and is done exclusively by Jarryd Hayne, while their defence is solid but has a weakness in that it is all done by Nathan Hindmarsh. According to my calculations, that leaves eleven blokes standing around saying, “Oooh don’t we look nice in our blue and yellow jumpers?”

Sure, the Raiders let Shaun Fensom handle all of their tackling, but they ensure that all thirteen players are involved in their offense, which consists of “the inside ball.” Strangely, the only people who aren’t ready for “the inside ball” are the Raiders’ support players, but I’ve got a good feeling that it’s going to work well this week, and that magic 24-point buffer will hold out nicely.

I also have a feeling that Natalie Portman is going to come over to my house and feed me Tim Tams while I watch Jurassic Park. If both of my feelings actually come to fruition, it will be a good weekend for all.

The Raiders are setting new standards in enthusiasm

MEB cumulative score: 62

Neighbours. Everybody needs good neighbours.

2011-06-22T13:08:00.000+10:00

This rare behind-the-scenes photo reveals a lot about the Neighboursverse: Karl and Susan drinking coffee and gossiping about Andrew, who is ordering coffee while talking overly loud to Lucas, and some extras practicing drinking coffee. And a camera left unattended while the cameraman gets a coffee

Ramsay Street is a turbulent place at the best of time, but lately it has been off the fucking chart. We’ve got new characters, old characters, characters who wear ties, characters who don’t wear ties, dickheads, wankers and fuckwits. It’s a ticking time-bomb inside a pressure cooker with a lit fuse just waiting to boil over.

I haven’t been able to keep entirely up-to-date with the residents of Erinsborough, but I’m pretty sure I can go all Sherlock on myself and piece together the pieces of this many-pieced puzzle.

Pop the kettle on, this could take a while.
To kick off, let’s see who was super shit enough to not have their Neighbours contract extended:

Zeke’s gone. He might have headed overseas to pursue his blossoming DJ career, but it’s more likely that he died in a canoeing accident. For some reason, water had a magnetic attraction for Zeke, if magnets had the power to kill.

Steph has gone because she ran over Ringo and killed him and was shipped off to jail somewhere in Fuck Knows Nowhere, Victoria. Following the shocking jury decision (although since the charge was drink driving occasioning death, it really shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise to anyone), Lyn grabbed Steph’s ugly kid (not Summer, the other one) and has moved to Fuck Knows so they can be closer to the drug-addicted alcoholic homicidal maniac that is Steph. I love a close-knit family. Except that they left Summer behind (good choice), so I guess Lyn’s pretty choosey about who she wants in her family. When the ugly kid and Steph get props over you, you might want to stop and think about your life.

Lyn’s absence obviously meant that there was an empty house on Ramsay. Better fill that space up with a couple of dickheads:
Kyle (that loveable larrikin who you may recognise as the bloke who always wears singlets, tries to donk anything that moves, drinks shit tins of orange juice at the pub and will only watch movies starring Steven Segal, just like every 20-something male in existence);
Jade - Sonya’s sister who is inexplicably of a different race than the rest of her family; and
Kate’s ex-boyfriend Mr Policeman, who moved in with the idiots above, regardless of the fact that they didn’t have jobs and are about ten years younger than him. I’m guessing that the pull of Ramsay Street got him in the end; it’s a well known fact that if you spend too long on Neighbours, one day you’ll wake up living in Lyn’s house… Also, the fact that the house is next door to Kate’s place probably helped. Because living next door to your ex girlfriend while you’re sharing a place with the girl you cheated on her with isn’t awkward at all, right? Right.

Mr Policeman is in a spot of bother for blowing the whistle on corrupt cops in Erinsborough, and has been “copping” it from his cop friends since he filed a report. Being the great journo that he is, Paul Robinson got wind of the story and threatened to blow the whole thing “sky high” by running it in the Erinsborough News (readership: 10 billion trillion people). Kate asked him not to run the story for the sake of Mr Policeman (I can’t really remember why, but I think it had something to do with bears), so Paul ran a story about high interest rates instead. Phew. Mr Policeman is safe. WAIT… interest rates are at what level? Jesus, I’m never going to be able to afford a house. Good one, Paul, you peg-legged dick.

After being abandoned by her family, Summer was absorbed into Karl and Susan’s house. Fuck. I couldn’t think of anything worse than living with those two douchebags. In a rarity for Neighbours writing, Karl has realistically cracked the shits with Susan and said, “I am so fucking sick of all the motherfucking teenagers in this house.” (the part of Dr Karl was played by Samuel L. Jackson) Susan quelled that storm by replying, “It’s only for a few more years.” Then they had some coffee and forgot about it.

Summer is also dating Rob Farnham aka Andrew, the mysteriously Scottish son of Paul Robinson. Paul has just offered Summer a journalist position at the Erinsborough News, which for a 17-year old with no qualifications is a pretty tidy opportunity. When I was 17, I worked at Woolworths and wanted a pair of rollerblades. The closest I came to being offered anything while I was working there was when some paedophile tried to get me involved in his Amway-selling scheme. I guess kids today are different with their hopes and dreams, and paedos are way more generous than they used to be.

Andrew has decided to focus his attention on his burgeoning entertainment business (what does that even mean?) and can’t wait to finish school so he can really reap the benefits. Apparently Andrew has been running dance parties for years as a side job to being a student, being awesome and having shit hair. AND he’s only about 15 years old. He might also have access to a time machine, seeing as no-one has even thought about a dance party since 1997.

Summer dragged Andrew to the Erinsborough University to do some recon on the campus and students for his ‘entertainment business,’ but Andrew seemed sceptical that the university crowd would be into it. “This guys don’ haf any monay tay partay wif,” he announced. “Noo let’s goo an’ get oorselfs soom coffee. Iss bin aboot an hoor since weef had one.” I’m glad that Andrew knows his target audience so well, and recognises that high school kids earn more money than adults.

In life away from Lyn’s house:
Harold is back from his across-Australia tour, and looky-looky, he’s brought himself a wife - the old duck from the Spray and Wipe ads. The wedding was glorious, as Harold spent most of the ceremony talking about his first wife before they all head to Charlie’s for a drink (orange juice) at the reception afterwards. I loved the fact that the bar was still decorated with advertising despite the reception being held there. I’m sure Mr and Mrs Spray and Wipe Bishop will love the fact that their wedding photos have the dates for Magic Dirt’s 2007 tour in the background.

The Neighbours writers realised that they hadn’t had a chance to use their hospital set for a while, so they made Lou collapse, thereby fixing that little oversight quick-smart by plonking him in the usual private room with machines going “ping” and Dr Karl dropping by to show off his lovely white coat and clipboard ensemble.

I’m not entirely sure what’s in the water in Erinsborough, but Kyle has followed the trend set by Andrew and has also decided to be his own boss by becoming a “professional handy man.” I would have assumed that being a professional man-whore would have been more apt, but that’s just me. I’m not sure where he decided that handiwork was a good idea, seeing as the only remotely handy thing he’s done is apply glue to a shelf, which then attracted a coffee mug and his own hand. Fuck I want to live on Ramsay Street - for one, I’d be able to kill Natasha a lot easier, and secondly I’d be able to become a professional Alec Baldwin impersonator within a week.

I’m going out on a limb and assuming that Kyle is also using Andrew’s time machine to go back to 1947 when handymen still existed. In the year 2011, if your dishwasher fucks out, you call a dishwasher repairman. If your car breaks down, you get a mechanic to look at it. You don’t call a 20-year old kid to turn up and poke around with nothing more than hope and a screwdriver.

Natasha has begun sleeping with a skeezy older man who rakes leaves for a living (seriously, how do I get to Ramsay St?), who makes constant references to the fact that she “looks hot” when she wears her school uniform during their back-seat encounters during her free periods at school. There are two ways that Natasha would ever be described as hot – one is if she has a crowbar sticking out of her mangled face, the other is if you were a skeezy old man. In Neighbours’ latest Community Service Announcement, Tash took a nudie photo of herself (in the toilets at Harold’s café) and sent it to Skeezy’s phone.

To end this Neighbours update, I’m proud to announce another Neighbours first:
Say hello to Chris, the token gay kid. Hi Chris. Chris hasn’t done anything of note since joining the cast, and that will be the status quo until another gay bloke moves in. Because as we all know, gay people spend all their time thinking gay thoughts about being gay. Oh, and drinking coffee, but that’s a Neighbours thing.

MEB’s Neighbours predictions
- electrical fire caused by Kyle’s shithouse handiwork
- Natasha’s photo is going to “go viral” and attract more views than the Erinsborough News and Google* combined. She will cop a mighty punishment from her dad, who will forbid her from having sex with random old blokes
*Note: The Neighbours universe has its own search engine, called “Poodle.” It’s pink and has a dog.
- Mr Copper will continue to cop flak from corrupt cops and will eventually leave the street to save the people he loves (from bears?)
- Karl is going to go postal for a week and recite Ezekial 25:17 before killing a lot of people before apologising and going back to being a boring old dick
- Toadie will get married again. That guy loves his nuptials

MEB’s Neighbours Peeve of the Week
In the opening credits, it shows Sonya and Libby together. They are blowing bubbles in the backyard and having a good giggle about it. It looks fucking stupid and if anyone out there can tell me if they know of ANY women (or men) who get together for a good old-fashioned bubble-blowing afternoon in the sun, I’d love to meet them (and feed them to a bear).

NRL 2011 Round 15: My knee is itchy

2011-06-17T14:48:00.000+10:00

So the post-Origin hangover should be well and truly out of everyone’s system by now, and the taste of Paul Gallen’s monstrous 80-minute Lazarus-like knob has been washed out of every sports journalist’s mouth (I don’t count) and we can all collapse back into the regular season.

Congrats to NSW, who did what few people thought they’d ever be able to do – win a game of football. Hopefully this will inspire other retarded teams to go out and dream that impossible dream and achieve victory. Pity the Raiders aren’t playing this week. On the plus side, it gives them another couple of days to (a) keep cleaning the trays in McDonalds restaurants, and (b) recover from the massive round of testicle-kicking I promised them after losing last week.

There’s an awkward feeling you get when you walk out of a movie with your friends and they’re all saying, “That was the greatest movie I’ve ever seen!” and you’re thinking, “I can’t believe that this movie was ever allowed to be made, let alone that I actually paid money to sit and watch it.” I got this feeling after reading some reports about Origin. It wasn’t the worst game I’ve ever seen (I have been a Raiders fan for a long time, after all), but for an exhibition of the game’s best players, there was a lack of spark, fluency and creativity from the backlines of each team. I mean, we don’t expect much from NSW, or for that matter, any team that has Mitchell Pearce involved, but with Thursty “Shit Tatts” Thurston and Dazzler “Batman” Lockyer running the show for the Aubergines, there was a distinct lack of crisp cut-out passes to players running into gaps, sneaky dummies and set plays that were pulled off with precision. As the Blues continued to pile on some great defensive pressure, the Queenslanders just didn’t adapt their game to counter it.

That was a long and sensible paragraph that had way too many insights into the sport. I apologise; it won’t happen again (it might).

Broncos v Dragons
Rabbitohs v Titans
Knights v Panthers
Cowboys v Warriors
Bulldogs v Sharks
Tigers v Storm
Sea Eagles v Eels

How much did I suck at tipping last week? Yep, plenty. And don’t think I wouldn’t do it again, either.

The Hayne Plane has been grounded due to volcanic ash and the fact that he is shit

MEB cumulative score: 56

State of Origin Game 2, 2011: Don't forget to write a witty heading before posting this blog

2011-06-15T13:06:00.000+10:00

Tonight’s State of Origin clash is shaping up to be one of the most important games in recent memory. Speaking of recent memories, mine was waking up surrounded by tequila bottles, blood, a shovel and what appeared to be half a prostitute (I’m not saying which half). Perhaps other people’s lives (and memories) are different to mine.

NSW are under massive amounts of pressure to put a halt to QLD’s winning streak, which dates back to biblical times. “And God did say unto Methuselah, ‘Take this twenty dollars to the TAB and put it on Queensland to win.’ Methuselah did as God intended, and won enough money to buy beer and some chips. And God saw that this was good.”

Of course, the Queensland domination of Origin won’t last for too much longer as their key players will give up representative football in the next few years, but winning against a team without Lockyer (retired), Civenociva (old age), Thurston (pubic lice), Slater (rat farming) and Smith (shaving) will be hollow, and for any kind of pride to be instilled within the NSW culture, they need to win this series.

The Blues’ preparation hasn’t exactly been ideal, losing Dugan to injury and Morris to stupidity, and then replacing them with Hayne and Minichiello. Not the good Minichiello either.

Sticky Tricky Ricky “Supercoach Selector Superstar Super Super” Stuart has hocked a giant loogie in the face of his previous selection process by backflipping on the idea of not choosing players out of position, as he has picked fullback Hayne for the wing, lock Gallen as a front-row prop and spastic Minichiello on the field. I’m not saying that Gallen isn’t big enough to be a prop, but it will force him to play a completely different style of game to what he’s used to. His speed and mobility may have been a factor in his controversial position selection, but with rain and heavy ground forecast for Sydney, this may mean sweet motherfucking fuck all. A guy running fast but unable to change direction is about the same as a guy running slowly who can’t change direction, and he will be duly eaten alive by the maroon forwards.

Queensland have made only a couple of changes to their team, with Gringlis taking his place in the centres, replacing Tonga who decided that having two working shoulders was way overrated. Greggie hasn’t had the smoothest of 2011s, but has that certain knack for saving all of his good form for Origin games. If I was a betting man, I’d put a coin or two on him to snatch a try. Possibly the second try.

Mister Evil Breakfast’s Philosophical Tip:
The game will not be won by NSW. If they are to secure victory, it will not be because they won, but because QLD lost.

I am prepared to eat all of these words, by the way. Especially the word “chips.”

Regardless of how many shit tattoos you may have, you can rest easy knowing that Thurston's are worse

NRL Round 14: Injuries and spell-check

2011-06-09T14:31:00.000+10:00

It’s a tough game, this rugby league caper. So is writing about it – without the correct posture, you can really get a stiff back. Phroar. I wonder if anyone has had a typing injury, like if they pressed too hard on a key (the D key looks like a likely candidate) and jarred their finger or something. If this has happened, I would like the blogosphere to make it known that amateur writing is just as hard and dangerous as playing professional football. Especially when you’re doing it at work and ignoring your job.

Injuries have shaken the NRL world to its core, and with Origin on in less than a week, it leaves this weekend’s teams all higgledy-piggledy. FYI, higgledy-piggledy is in the MS Word dictionary. FYI, it’s also in auto-correct. FYI, I misspelled it, that’s how I know.

Origin, injuries and turmoil are the topics taking up the NRL newsbucket this week, as embattled Bulldogs coach Kevin Moore was told “your team is shit,” to which he replied, “Yeah, tell me about it.” I reckon he’s trawling seek.com.au for a new job as we speak. Parramatta bigwigs are also mourning the fact that they didn’t sign Darren Lockyer as a junior sixteen years ago, claiming they saw great potential in the young five-eighth even way back then. Funnily enough, he was playing fullback at the time. It also appears that he may have caught the eye of some Brisbane scouts, so Parra can shove that shithouse story up their Eric Grothe Jr. I could write all day about how I stupidly turned down the role of Han Solo in Star Wars (the filming dates conflicted with the time that I was alive), or the time I didn’t take the opportunity to marry Natalie Portman (every day). Sometimes you just have to accept the fact that opportunities aren’t there solely for you.

The team doctor measures up players for bogan tattoos

Round 14
There are some tough decisions to make this week as teams take the field without their Origin stars and injured players, so it all comes down to how you reckon the second-string players will go, or how important a left centre really is. Answer: not really integral, but handy to have – kind of like your appendix.

Dragons v Titans
Sea Eagles v Cowboys
Warriors v Tigers
Storm v Roosters

Broncos v Raiders

FOR FUCK’S SAKE. What the fuck happened last week, Raiders? Jesus suffering fuck. Fucking hell.

FUCK.

Giving up a 22-point lead is never a good thing for anyone in any sport. Giving up a 22-point lead to lose by 16 is just fucking unforfuckingivable. What a fucking disgrace.

Right. Onto this week. The Raiders had just one player picked for Origin duty, but he decided to plonk himself on the injured list instead. Other Canberra players decided that the injured list looked like a good list to be on, so they joined him there, including Terry Campese, whose 2011 season consisted of seven minutes on the field, before he tore his groin muscle into confetti. Nice one, Tezza. At least your highlights reel will be a simple editing job.

I’m going for the Raiders in this game, simply because the Broncs always struggle without their senior players who are away on Origin duty. It’s the game that Canberra needs to win, and if they don’t then I’m kicking them all in the balls. Seriously, I will hunt down all of the players and fucking boot them right in the scrote.

On a sad and controversial and angry note, Josh Miller may be forced to leave the Raiders at the end of this year due to salary cap restrictions. Miller is a good young player who bleeds lime green – the Raiders need him to stick around, and should do whatever the fuck it takes to keep him in the nation’s capital. Lose that Orford bloke, or sell half of Tom Learoyd-Lahrs’ name or something. If they lose Miller, he will get bought by another club while he is in the prime of his career and will destroy his opposition. If the Raiders can stop being a springboard club for future superstars of the game, that would be tops.

MEB cumulative score: 55

Run out without facing a ball in his final Test

2011-06-08T14:52:00.000+10:00

Simon Katich’s international career ended on June 7, 2011 – a day that shall hereby be known as Krab Day, in memory of the way that Simon sideways-walked his way around the batting crease.

Even photographs of Simon Katich are known to grow stubble

Cricket Australia released the twenty-five contracted players for Australia yesterday, effectively closing the book on the international career of Simon Katich. Marcus North was also a name notably (and thankfully) missing from the list. When approached for comment, North slurred, “I’ve got me name on the honours board at Lord’s. Youse can go fuck yourselfs.”

CA announced that they were mindful of establishing an effective top order partnership. “It takes time to get a good opening partnership and we now think the time is right to make sure we've got the right opening partnership come the Ashes [in 2013].”

The need to establish a strong opening partnership is obvious, yet baffling when you consider that CA threw another contract towards Phillip Hughes, who plays at the ball the way my gran swishes her hand at blowflies in the summer. His Test form is shit, his state form is shit, and from all reports, his form in the backyard against his cousin (who’s a girl) is also shit and he has to resort to cheating to score runs.

The ‘strong opening partnership’ that CA are looking for has already been found with Katich and Watson, who normally work well together against the new ball. The problems with Australia’s batting come in the middle order as muppets like Ponting and Clarke succumb to short balls, full balls, wide balls and balls pitched in the general vicinity of the wicket. This then brings an out-of-place Steve Smith to the wicket, whose batting technique looks like it's based on watching a handful of scratchy home-made self-help cricketing videos that he found in his neighbour’s garage when he was huffing paint.

The Australian bowling is even worse, and looks like it’s going to be bolstered by a couple of teenagers. It will be a massive honour for them to be sharing the ball with Mitchell Johnson; regardless of whether they’re copping stick from the batsmen, at least they can hold their heads high and say, “I may be shit, but I’m not Mitchell Johnson shit.” They will be released from their contracts the following year and will thankfully go back to their old lives, giving hand-jobs in the back rows of pornographic theatres.

I’m all for the introduction of youth in the squad, but why combine the inexperience of a James Pattinson with the general awfulness of a Mitch Johnson and the ineffectiveness of a Nathan Hauritz? Who are these young kids going to ask when they have questions on where to pitch the ball for a particular batsman? Do they know where to land it to contain runs?

At the very least, we've got Patrick Cummins, whose name lends itself to a handful (snigger) of dirty jokes. "Cummins makes his mark," "Quick Cummins," "Indians choke on Cummins" and "Clarke sticks with Cummins" are all headlines I'm looking forward to.

The axing of Katich is a nail right through the testicles of Australian cricket – it probably won’t kill it, but it’s going to hurt for a long, long time.

Simon Katich has played a different part in all of our lives – solid opening batsman, contestant on Celebrity MasterChef and the guy voted to have the ‘best five o’clock shadow at 10am.' With a Test average of 45.03, including ten 100s and twenty-five 50s, he will be remembered as a gritty performer for Australian cricket both on and off the field, showing passion that was neither practiced or endorsed by Sanitarium.

While strangling his captain for not joining in the team's victory song following a rare win might not have been in his best interests, I think Kat will look back on that moment as one of his greatest achievements. Australian cricket is weaker for not having more people who have throttled Michael Clarke.

NRL 2011 - Round 13: Living on a Prayer (aka we're halfway there)

2011-06-02T11:36:00.000+10:00

We’re about half-way through the 2011 season (give or take) and the shape of the NRL ladder seems to be making itself slightly clearer. I dare say that at this juncture, every team still has the chance to make it into the finals – don’t quote me on that one though, maths and logic were never my forte (kickboxing and astronautical exploration are more me) – but it’s safe to say that not every team actually has the skill to make said finals; the Roosters and the Titans, for example. I wonder if the Roosters will continue the pattern of being shit one year, making it to the Grand Final the next, then being even shitter than the first year, then coming good again? Look out 2012, it’s the year of the chooks.

Not really, 2012 will be the year of world apocalypse according to the Mayans and John Cusack. Bad luck, Roosters.

We can safely say that the Dragons are the form team again/still, and there was one report this week of a bookie who was already paying the punters who had backed the Saints for a grand final win (to do that at this stage of the comp reeks of stupidity and sloppy PR for mine, but fuck it; it filled half a column in the sports section), while teams like Manly and the Warriors are surprising a few people by not being incredibly shit.

It has been easy (and fun) to hate Manly in the past – any team that boasted Geoff Toovey, Des Hasler, Cliff Lyons and Spud Carroll in their playing roster deserve to be hated. But their form lately has been undeniably impressive, which is definitely a turnaround from the days when they had to cheat to win games. Young players like Kieren Foran, Daly Chery-Evans and Will Hopoate, combined with old heads Bretty Stewart and Tony Watmough back on the paddock and playing well has the ratio of fans to parole officers at Brookvale Oval finally starting to even up.

Eels vs Dragons
Sharks vs Broncos
Titans vs Panthers
Bulldogs vs Sea Eagles
Roosters vs Warriors
Rabbitohs vs Storm
Tigers vs Knights

That’s an almost obscene amount of away teams that I'm tipping, which just goes to show how shithouse half of these teams are going, or how bad at tipping I really am.

Raiders vs Cowboys
There has a whole Vikingship of contention over whether Terry Campese would make this his comeback game from injury, and from all reports (the guy at the desk behind mine), the answer is “no.” This has given Josh “I’m really not as bad as you all thought I was” McCrone and Sam “TBC” Williams another chance to become the greatest halves combination in the history of the universe. Matt “I can do it coach! Just put me in the game coach!” Orford has been told to pretend he’s sick and given an all-access pass to Timezone for the week to keep him out of the way.

The Raiders’ odds of winning the premiership have also risen dramatically from a fairly outside chance of $58 to a still-fairly-outside-chance at $23 following two wins in a row… Two wins? Doesn’t take much to impress the TAB faithful, eh?

After much-improved performances against the Storm and the Doggies, Canberra has finally shown that they do have the ability to play footy, and their giant front-rowers aren’t a massive bunch of pussies. Meanwhile, the Cowbs have been racking up victories of all sorts – scrappy, gritty, come-from-behind and controlled. If the Raiders can contain Thursty Thurston for the full eighty minutes (possibly by sacrificing one of the players’ wives for him), they’ll go a long way towards giving a massive “fuck you!” to their detractors and a big ol’ “fuck you” to the rest of the comp.

Of course, if they lose, I’ll be giving them a nice “fuck you” from the grandstand. And they’ll have no choice but to love it.

PS. Go Raiders! WOO!

Alan Tongue - undisputed piggyback champion of the world

Did anyone else notice I picked another full round last week? Well I did, and you should have heard about it because I rang the whole world and sent them all email and twittered them and facebooked their inbox and even went on MySpace to let everyone know.

MEB cumulative score: 50

The only certainties in life are death, taxes and a crowbar

2011-05-31T11:55:00.000+10:00

I don’t normally like to air my political views on this blog, unless politics have changed in a way that now recognises Neighbours, drinking games and dinosaurs as points of conjecture. I’ve just been informed that this isn't the case, which is a pity. I would totally vote for a stegosaurus for PM.

This week, actress Cate Blanchett has chucked her two cents into a scheme in which the Aussie Government proposes to charge dinkie di Aussie battlers a few bucks to offset some kind of carbon emissions. I’ll be honest, I probably do exceed my emissions quota following my Thursday burrito ritual, but I usually contain my “carbon” within my doona that night, so I reckon I am fairly neutral in that regard.

Cate reckons we should just pay up and shut the fuck up about it. This is quite easy for Ms Blanchett to say and do, seeing as she’s massively rich. If I earned $30 million from appearing in movies so underground that they never get released, I’d be feeling quite generous myself and would probably feel ok about telling other people to shell out some more taxes. She has defended her position by pointing out the solar panels on the roof of her mansion and declaring that carbon emissions are close to her heart and she’d do anything to get the word out there. By the way, Cate Blanchett and her rich thespian family live in a mansion that they bought for $10.2 million.

Three years later, they renovated it.

If I bought a house for $10 mill, it’d want to be the most fucking perfect house I’d ever seen, with a bat-pole connecting the lounge room to the kitchen and a room dedicated to practicing handstands. Here’s an idea, Blanchey – you pay for everyone else’s shit and carry on being a great actor. Your work in Lord of the Rings was brilliant – you shared the screen with Hollywood legends like the kid from The Goonies, the bloke from Lost and Steve Tyler’s daughter.

I am not a rich man – hell, I’m barely even a man (but I’m going into surgery again next week, so that should be rectified pronto), but I am also not living below the poverty line; I can still keep myself fed with Corn Flake sandwiches and jars of pickles. I wear cardigans that I didn’t rack from someone’s clothesline (I fucking love cardigans) and don’t have to whore myself out to pay the rent (I do it for the love of it). If I choose to spend my whole salary on beef jerky (and don't think I haven't thought about it), then that's up to me. I don’t particularly enjoy copping instructions from a motherfucking actor about paying a tax for something I'm not entirely sure I contribute a whole lot to. The Chinese produce about 22% of the world's carbon emissions (compared to Australia's 1.3%) - put your super-stardom to work in China if you're that passionate. I'm sure they care as much about your solar panels as I do.

Fuck off Cate, before I tax the shit spelling of your name. It’s hurting my spell-check.

NRL 2011 - Round 12: I pick all home teams (spoiler warning)

2011-05-26T12:04:00.000+10:00

Following the circus of State of Origin, we’re back into the regular NRL season again. Speaking of Origin, congratulations to the Queensland boys for their victory. It’s only fair that they won, as I’d feel bad if us southerners had teeth as well as a trophy. It’s nice to share things sometimes.

Special thanks to the Blues for trying the “pass wide from the kick off” trick I suggested last week – it would have worked if the ref didn’t ruin everyone’s fun. I am also available to coach your team so you don’t have to keep stealing my ideas. Just ask, lads.

We’re also back to full rounds of the regular season, which is always nice – it does add a bit of pressure to picking a winner though, as you’re never sure if someone is going to back up after their Origin performance, or if they’re injured, or tired or hungover or have syphilis (not to mention any names Michael Ennis) and decide at the last minute that they won’t bother playing this week because they really don’t feel like earning their salary.

The good news is that the Raiders are looking to make it three wins in a row as they take on a determined, yet ultimately unsuccessful Bye team, who are still looking for their first win in the NRL.

Sea Eagles vs Broncos
Bulldogs vs Titans
Knights vs Eels
Cowboys vs Roosters
Storm vs Sharks
Dragons vs Tigers
Panthers vs Rabbitohs

Holy shit, did they decide to make this round the one where all of the struggling teams play each other? Fuck me, what a mess.

MEB cumulative score: 43

Origin I wrap up

I almost spat my beer out when I saw that they gave Man of the Match to Cameron Smith. I’m fairly sure I saw him lining up at the bar during the game. I would have thrown the award to Petero Civenociva; the guy is about a million years old and runs around like a teenager. A giant, giant teenager.

There were some stand-out highlights during the game; Darius Boyd’s hit on Gasnier, NSW’s staunch defence on their goal line for about eighty-seven consecutive sets, Josh Dugan cutting off his Jedi-rat’s tail, the post-siren fight, the post-siren-post-fight interview with Darren Lockyer (actually, any Lockyer interview is worth its weight in lip-reading classes) and the cracking rendition of our national anthem all deserve mentions. But the Mister Evil Breakfast Special Moment Of State Of Origin I (MEBSMOSOOI) was hearing Peter Sterling use the phrase “Welcome to the X-Men: First Class half time break” as if it was the most normal sentence he’s ever uttered.

Sterlo’s mutant ability is the power to keep a straight face.

It's such a graceful game

State of Origin WOO

2011-05-24T11:03:00.000+10:00

Is there a better time of year for a die-hard rugby league fan other than Origin time? Yes actually, especially if that person is from NSW, as those useless blue-jersey-wearing-nancy-boys are too busy making sure their mascara isn’t running and swapping stories about the time they thought they saw Justin Bieber at Coles to worry about turning up to tackle a QLD player. You see, in the beginning, God created dinosaurs... and that was pretty much the last time that NSW won a game of footy (it was an epic battle that ultimately saw the NSW T-rex step around the QLD Stegosaurus, whose spines proved far less effective in defence than previously thought) to score in the corner and seal the victory in the final minutes of the game. The media was all over the QLD coach following the selection of the Stego over the more highly fancied Ankylosaurus, whose form during the season had been outstanding. The Stego was dropped for the following game and cancelled his contract with the NRL that year, opting to finish his career in the UK Super League and ultimately died in a tar pit accident.

Sad story, but all of it is completely true, except the part about the dinosaurs.

2011 offers NSW their best chance to exact revenge on their maroon-coloured counterparts as they’ve finally picked a five-eighth to play in the five-eighth position, a hooker to play in the hooker position (and a back-up hooker in case he’s shit, and knowing Michael Ennis, he will be) and some big blokes in the middle to bash it out with the other big blokes. It’s a decent team, despite the inclusion of Michael Jennings.

If NSW does has an obvious weak spot, it’s the defensive capabilities of the halves combination of Jamie “About Time You Fucking Picked Me” Soward and Mitchell “Mitchell Pearce” Pearce, who are both professional bullfighters in their spare time, and pride themselves on managing to dodge anything more aggressive than a startled grasshopper that happens to run in their general direction. However, Sowie has a great kicking game, is quick off the mark, looks a treat in headgear and is a decent goal kicker, so we can forgive him his shortcomings when it comes to tackling. Fucked if I’d want to do it either (which is probably why I’ve been left out of the team AGAIN).

QLD have their usual assortment of troops lining up to have their wives and girlfriends touched up by Jonathon Thurston, Lockyer is already gargling sulphuric acid, and Jharal Yow Yeh is wondering if that is seriously his real name, or if it’s a practical joke that no-one has ever had the heart to tell him “Dude, your name is really Frank Jones.” Decent player, yes, but if I had to choose between Jharal and my vacuum cleaner as a lifeline on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, you know that busted ol’ Hoovex is getting the call.

This game will hopefully be a more closely-contested game than in previous years – it did become demoralizing watching the lead-up interviews with the Queensland players trying to keep a straight face when asked how they were going to ‘contain Kurt Gidley.’ Their response was straight from the book: “He’s a definite threat, for sure, but we have to ensure that we don’t just focus on him, as there are gamebreakers right across the park for New South Wales,” instead of the more honest and accurate: “Did they really pick him? Now I don’t feel bad at all for drinking that whole bottle of tequila on the way here.”

MEB’s prediction

Head to head, I think as far as forwards go, NSW have better ball-players than their bogan cousins from up north, and as much as I hate to admit it, Paul “I’m not entirely sure I’m not from Queensland” Gallen is about as hard a bloke as you’re going to find this side of Brick Shithouse Island.

Queensland have the upper hand in the halves with seasoned performers Thurston and Lockyer directing the gorilla army around the field, and will be at their most dangerous if Thurston can continue his form from the regular season for this game. If he can be handled early in the game by the NSW boofheads, he’ll lose his temper and start looking for desperate passes, and will rely too much on Billy “the Rat” Slater with his inside balls (heheh). For NSW, Soward will be buoyed by the fact that he is surrounded by his St George team-mates, and should avoid passing to Mitchell Pearce at all costs.

The battle of the fullbacks should go to the abovementioned Rat, as Josh “At Least I’m Not Jarryd Hayne” Dugan battles niggling injuries and ordinary form coming into the game. However, with limited preparation time, Dugan will be expected only to perform adequately, so any fullback wizardry that he can pull out of his infected armpit will stand out like Akuila Uate in the NSW line-up. As long as he does enough to keep Hayne away for Game 2, I’ll be happy. He might want to try and actually tackle in this game though; something he hasn’t really attempted since 2009.

The match up between the wingers appears to be pretty even between the outside four. Let’s be honest though, if a game is won or lost due to these blokes, it probably means it has been a fairly average game to watch. I do like Morris though, he seems like a good kid. He can definitely buy me a beer one day.

Summing up (you thought I was going to do that in the previous bit, didn’t you?)

Ummmmm. QLD by a couple, but not as many as they probably reckon.

Squinting: Not as effective as ducking

NRL Round 11: Shmate of Shmorigin

2011-05-19T15:11:00.000+10:00

First of all, I have no fucking idea what happened to my font and formatting for last week’s blog; when I posted it the whole thing looked fine – so fine, in fact, that I was tempted to make sweet, sweet love to it (but didn’t) (yes I did) – and when I checked it sometime over the weekend to boost my blog ranking, the whole thing looked shithouse. So I apologise if people out there were waiting for my all-knowing knowledge and feel let down. If you feel this way, I give you permission to yell abuse at me when you drive past me on the street. Sometimes my awesomeness exceeds the limits that ‘default settings’ can allow.

Onto Round Eleven!

The teams for State of Origin (part 1) were announced on the weekend, with a couple of positions raising a few eyebrows (personally, I raised three) with their choice of personnel to fill out a jumper. On the NSW front, I wouldn’t have picked Michael Jennings over Jamal Idris for starters, and in a discussion that I dreamt about, Jennings agrees.

“My form has been pretty shithouse for a few weeks now, MEB,” said Jennings. “Sometimes I’m not even sure if I have been playing, such is the low impact of my performances this year. Besides, if you had to choose between a bloke called Michael and a guy called Jamal, who would you pick?"

"An excellent point. I also think that the name Jamal would take away the power of Jharal, who is making his Origin debut."

"Jharal is a pretty special name. It's not quite a name or word AND it has an H in it that doesn't really belong."

"Michael Jennings, thanks for your time."

"No worries MEB. By the way, I play for Penrith.”

"Sure you do."

Then he turned into a peacock and flew away, and I know that peacocks can’t actually do that. That’s how I knew I was in a dream and I was getting all Inception on myself.

The State of Origin award for Most Sought After Position was given to the fullback slot, and Josh “I’ll play when I want to” Dugan accepted the award in place of Jarryd “Superfluous Y” Hayne (make that two), while the All My Team Mates Get A Game, What About Me? trophy was given to Dean Young, despite the fact there are about forty-seven better hookers in the NRL at any given time.

QLD were dealt a couple of blows (hehe) with their centre pairing of Greg “Me Get More Money Now” Inglis and Justin “Pass the ball? Never heard of it” Hodges being ruled out with wallet strains. A couple of numpties were brought in to replace them in the shape of Dane “Who?” Neilson and Willie “Oh that guy” Tonga. If NSW have any balls at all (TBC), they should throw the ball wide to Gasnier from the kick-off and let him dance around both of these guys in a 90m run, in a somewhat similar fashion to “the Girdler try” of the 2000 series.

State of Origin is a special time. It stirs up an ancient magic called Queenslander Pride, which works like Roger Ramjet’s Proton-Energy Pills, and anyone wearing a maroon-coloured shirt gains superhuman powers. I honestly think that the superpowers are more in the form of being better footy players than the opposition, but if you explain that to a Queenslander, you just get grunted at before they head off to scratch their back against the bark of a tree. God bless you, Queenslanders. You truly are an evolutionary miracle.

So with the whole shebang about Origin, there’s another split round this week as the NSW and QLD players head into camp to train, bond, rape, pillage and plunder. Some teams will feel the loss more than others, but they deserve it for hogging all the talented players.

Tigers v Panthers
Warriors v Rabbitohs
Roosters v Knights
Eels v Sharks

Canberra vs Bulldogs

Another shithouse performance by the Raiders last week saw them remain cemented on the… wait… what? They won? Well fuck me in the eye with a spanner.

This is undoubtedly the beginning of a charge to the Grand Final for the mighty Green Machine as they dig deep and find some Territory Pride in the pits of their stomach to notch up another win. The Raiders are on a bit of a roll, having won their last game and now have one victory in a row, equalling their best performance so far from this year set in round one.

Seriously, get on board the Green Wagon. It’s not going to stop.

The Wolfman was in an instant coma after 'planking' and has only just woken up

MEB cumulative score: 42

Oh Mr Sheen

2011-05-16T17:47:00.000+10:00

Following the rapid decline of Charlie Sheen’s sanity and integrity, he was fired from the “hit television show” Two and a Half Men, in which he played one of the Men, whose name I believe was Charlie. If I was in a sitcom, I’d make the character I was playing be named Mister Evil Breakfast as well, because I have a bad memory and would forget which person I was meant to be playing. When I was in kindergarten, my class put on a Christmas play for our parents, and I was picked to play one of the Three Wise Men (obviously) who sought out the baby Jesus and gave it gold, frankincense and myrrh. I do love me some myrrh for birthdays. Anyway, in order to give all of the kids in the class a role, we used a bit of creative license with the Bible story and introduced three kings and three shepherds who were also following the Star to the manger in which Jesus (aka Cindy the Cabbage Patch Kid) lay.

During the rehearsals, my teacher said to me, “Mister Evil Breakfast, you are Wise Man Number Two. You walk out after Wise Man Number One and before Wise Man Number Three. But first you wait for the Three Kings and then the Three Shepherds.” With Mrs Kindyteacher spouting off all of those names, I got terribly confused. This is why there were four Kings (one of whom was carrying myrrh, did not have a crown and was pulled off stage by his teacher when he was halfway to the manger) who went to meet Jesus, followed by four shepherds (one of whom was carrying myrrh, did not have a shepherd’s crook and was pulled off stage by his teacher when he was halfway to the manger) and then two Wise Men who were carrying gold and frankincense, followed by a third Wise Man (and his teacher) who was quite frankly a bit apprehensive about joining any more parties on their way to the birth of the messiah, and didn’t want to give up his myrrh when he got there anyway. This is probably why I heckle the priest at church on Christmas Eve. Also, because I’m drunk on Communion wine (and tequila).

About 27 years after my sparkling performance in my kindergarten play which no doubt inspired Charlie Sheen’s acting career, Sheensie was fired from acting as himself on Two and a Half Men following mad cocaine binges with porn stars, prostitutes and according to Sheen himself, ‘a two-headed unicorn from Neptune’ and then firing up his Twitter account to hurl abuse and speak gibberish at anyone who would listen. Without its main attraction, the show has been on ‘hiatus’ as the geniuses at the studio try to work out what to do with this fucking retarded but ultimately insanely popular program.

In a recent announcement, it was decided that Two and a Half Men will be cancelled in the not-too-distant future. To ensure that this is done properly, the producers have hired a Hollywood euthanasia expert in the form of Ashton Kutcher to perform this tricky procedure. Under the watchful eye of Dr Kutcher, the high-rating sitcom will be revived from its current coma before being choked until it is dead, kicked a few times and drowned in battery acid (with a hint of paprika). Then they’ll kick it again just for shits and giggles and set it on fire.

Kutcher was quoted as saying, “Don’t worry, I can kill this show off, regardless of its success. I’ve done it a thousand times before.” He has also shown interest in joining the cast of Merlin and it is rumoured that he will appear in a handful of episodes of Winners and Losers.

NRL Round 10: Back to bidness

2011-05-12T13:29:00.000+10:00

After the short round last week, we’re back into the swing of the regular season for Round 10. There are still a few question marks over some of these games though, as players start resting themselves for representative honours with the State of Origin squads to be named in the next few days.

On the topic of Origin, a player I’d like to stab in the face with a ball-point pen and then kick in the throat a few times while he tries to extract said pen from his eye socket (ew) is Mark Gasnier. “Gaz” is a disgrace to Gaz’s all over the world as he has pulled out of this round’s game against the Doggies but has declared himself “right” for Origin. In fact, Mark Fuckbag Gaz Gasnier has even been picked as a front-runner for the NSW captaincy.

Oh, I’m sorry Fuckbag - if you want to win Lotto, you have to buy a ticket. You can’t just waltz into the newsagent and demand your $20 million (I’ve tried, it just doesn’t work). Gaz is a shining example of a major scourge in the NRL at the moment – too many self-appointed fucking champions of the world who think they deserve knighthoods just for turning up, lobbing a ball around and then limping off with a “niggling hamstring injury” before returning the week after to play a shithouse team where they can star. You want to play Origin, dickhead? Turn up and play well for your club. You want the captaincy, fuckbag? Try showing a bit of leadership. Sometimes it takes more than a face four-times-too-small-for-your-head to achieve things in life; you may have to actually work for this one.

Such a waste - there are starving African children who have no heads, and Gas has this monstrosity

Other news around the traps states that the Sharks “may sledge” Todd Carney in his return game for the Roosters this week. Wow Sharks, you guys are rad. In another breaking story, boys have a penis and girls have a vagina. Any team that doesn’t sledge Carney should be delisted from the NRL and sent back to the lesbian hippie commune that they came from.

This is how you sledge

Bulldogs v Dragons
Panthers v Broncos
Cowboys v Eels
Rabbitohs v Tigers
Knights v Warriors
Sharks v Roosters
Titans v Sea Eagles

Storm vs Raiders
Canberra coach Dave Furner has been watching his back every time he leaves his house this week as the Raiders fans yearn for his blood following a fairly fucking disastrous start to the season. However, he has pulled what will prove itself to be either ‘a master stroke,’ ‘another monumental fuck-up,’ ‘sheer laziness,’ or 'I don't give a fuck anymore' in naming the same side to play the Storm that lost 20-0 to Manly.

I guess there’s really not much else to try other than to keep the same idiots on the field to get some kind of continuity going. As the saying goes, “if a million monkeys typed on a million typewriters for a million years, they would write the complete works of Shakespeare.” The Raiders have a roster of seventeen monkeys and about eighty minutes to put together a decent game of footy. As much as I love them, I can’t help but think they'll need a few extra monkeys and a bit more time to notch up a win this week. And a tank.

MEB cumulative score: 38

Say it's not true!

2011-05-11T15:59:00.000+10:00

Leading the newsfeed on my monitor as I checked my email instead of doing work last week was the devastating news that Ryan Phillippe had announced his retirement from acting. I will let you insert your own line about whether or not he actually ever began acting in the first place; personally I can’t remember him being in a movie since he did that one where Buffy and Selma Blair make out.

I am not sure what ‘retiring from acting’ actually means; I understand all of the words in that phrase, but together it just doesn’t quite make sense. Retirement conjures up the image of an old bloke pottering around in his garden before putting on his long socks and sensible shoes and heading down to the RSL for a midi of light beer and a sneaky slap on the pokies every Tuesday afternoon. At age 36, I have a suspicion that Ryan Phillippe would look out of place having a chat with Old Barry, who tries to pack his pipe with shaking hands while telling you about the time he saw Don Bradman bat.

Let’s be honest, an actor is traditionally not an essential cog in anyone’s machine (“Oh no, Two and a Half Men isn’t on!” “Oh no, there’s no more episodes of Sea Patrol!” “The Logies are way more interesting this year,”) so I am somewhat bewildered by Phillippe’s announcement. It’s not like he’s integral to any particular field - he is not a pioneer of medical science, nor is he a forward-thinking world leader. He’s not risking his life for others, and he’s not digging wells in Pakistan. To be perfectly Francis, he’s not even much of an actor.

The impact of Phillippe’s announcement is yet to be fully appreciated. While it means that there is one less smarmy actor with dimples, good hair and nice teeth gracing our screens, I doubt even the most hardened studio executives will be crying into their cocaine for the loss. “We’ll just get that guy from The Social Network instead,” they’ll say. “Or the guy who played Darth Vader in the Star Wars prequels,” they’ll say. “Maybe we could call Jake Gyllenhall,” they’ll say. “Can we coax Phillippe out of retirement?” they will not say.

What does it really mean to retire from acting, rather than ‘couldn’t be arsed going for an audition’ anyway? I think the term he meant was 'quitting acting.' That way, he can try and land himself a regular job to keep the rent paid, the bills off the fridge and the hair gel plentiful. I would like to imagine Ryan Phillippe plonking himself down in an interview for a desk job that pays $45,000 a year and explaining the gaps in his work history.

“You don’t seem to have any office experience in your resume, Mr Phillippe.”
“I was in that movie where I hooked up with Reese Witherspoon.”
“Yes…”
“I was also in 54.”
“…”
“…”
“Nobody saw that.”
“My mum did.”
“No she didn’t.”
“I could act like an office worker.”
“…”
“…”
“No you couldn’t.”

Sometime in the future, there’ll be a 3D superhero spin-off movie that yearns for Ryan Phillippe to come out of retirement, just once (and once more for the sequel). Good luck filling that void.

NRL 2011 Round 9: It’s Bin a Big Week

2011-05-05T12:09:00.000+10:00

With the events of the last seven days, it’s hard to imagine that life will ever be quite the same again. It has been an historic part of our lives, and depending on which way you look at it, it’s either the end of a chapter, or the beginning of a whole new story.

Sometimes writing about rugby league teams facing off against each other seems fairly insignificant when you think about it, especially when you consider what we have experienced in the last week. And as the USA celebrates, the rest of the world can only wonder “what’s next?”

I just cannot believe that Mariah Carey has given birth to twins.
I thought (hoped) she was dead.

Round 9 of the NRL marks the beginning of the “Representative Season” as the Kangaroos take on the Kiwis, City takes on Country, the State of Origin teams get named and the St Mary’s Under-12 round-robin tournament begins. As a result, there’s only a handful (or two handfuls if you have small hands) of regular NRL games to tip this week, many of which will be difficult pick as the exact make-up of each side will be uncertain until kick-off and will probably have more players from the Under-12s than regular first-graders in any case.

I tipped a full round last week (and a big FUCK YOU to everyone who said my tips were all shit and I’d be better off practicing my blow job technique on a loaded shotgun THANKS VERY MUCH MUM) so the pressure is on this week to continue my winning ways.

In interesting NRL news, the video referee has been stood down for this round following repeated poor performances this year. I’m pretty sure this is the first time in the history of sport that a piece of equipment has been sent to the reserve grade to hone their technique.

“Sorry Schumacher, you’re performing quite well, but your car is out for the next race. Good luck with that.”
“The Bulls and the Knicks will contest this game without a ball, who has been relegated following disciplinary action.”
“Hey Ponting, we think that your bat is in good touch, but you really aren’t up to scratch, so we’re sending you to Shield cricket for a few weeks. Also, your box has been made captain. And your left pad is vice.”

Australia vs NZ
City vs Country
Broncos vs Storm
Titans vs Warriors
Dragons vs Cowboys

Sea Eagles vs Raiders

Dear Raiders,

Thank you for your application to be the spokespeople for Johnson & Johnson’s Cotton Wool Balls. Unfortunately, you have been deemed ‘too soft’ for this role and your application will not progress any further.

Regards

Some Cotton Wool Making Guy at Johnson & Johnson’s

Last week’s performance by the mighty mighty mighty fucking fucked-up fucking Raiders rates amongst their worst ever, and they will be keen to restore a bit of pride as they attempt to avoid equalling their all-time losing streak.

For the stoush against Manly this week, both teams have a few players backing up from rep games, so this should be a fairly evenly-contested contest that will be contested fairly evenly. However, since it’s the Raiders, they will all injure themselves in the warm-up to the City-Country extravaganza (possibly stepping off the bus and breaking a pelvis) and should carry on their excellent form from this year and come away with another resounding loss. Come on boys, you can do it. EIGHT IN A ROW WOO!

Seriously Raiders, I love you. But you’re bringing me down.

Canberra prop Dave Shillington tries out the new training gear at Raiders HQ to strengthen his index fingers.

MEB cumulative score: 35

Now we all know what goulash is

2011-05-04T12:45:00.000+10:00

Another year of MasterChef is upon us (WOO!). Another year where pretty people cook pretty things pretty badly. A chance for three unattractive blokes with aprons but without personalities to become, by definition, personalities themselves. MasterChef lets people get all “oooh that sounds very nice!” about some bloke’s eggplant and baby octopus flavoured biscuits, simply because he speaks with a French accent, wears a stupid hat and is selling said biccies at $8 a pop.

Despite the Channel Ten execs promoting this season of MasterChef as ‘entirely different’ to previous years, it appears that it’s going to be more of the same rubbish, with the focus on the tension and drama between the contestants who break down in tears at the first sign of their cucumber and mountain-goat soufflé sticking to the baking tin, instead of concentrating on showing them cooking, learning how to cook or talking to each other about cooking. The promos released by the network show the contestants doing boot camps, living without power and climbing a fucking mountain – none of which is entirely helpful when you’re trying to win a cooking contest. Athletes trying out for the 100m sprint event at the Olympics aren’t asked to roast a pheasant before they’re allowed on the track. An accountant doesn’t have to balance an egg on its point while singing the Home and Away theme song before his firm gives him a job. Why the fuck would anyone care how useless some fucking idiot is at putting up a tent while they’re camping in the bush when the basis of the show is about putting crap in a pan and heating it up properly? If they get a job as a chef, I don’t care if they can juggle chainsaws or whittle wood – as long as they can cook my fucking steak, I’m happy.

The 2011 season of MasterChef continues its proudly annoying tradition of appealing to the 6% of Australians who are blind – not counting me on Saturday nights through to Monday mornings – by getting the contestants to recap exactly what is being shown on the screen as it happens.

Vision:
Big fat Matt Preston is standing in a room holding a box. Contestants walk into the room and stand in front of big fat Matt Preston.

Audio:
Contestant #1: “So we walked into, you know, this room and there was Matt holding a box. I couldn’t help but wonder what was in that box, you know?”
Contestant #2: “I just want to know what’s in that box.”
Contestant #8: “Oooh. A box.”

Vision:
Close up of big fat Matt Preston as he speaks to the contestants, his jowls moving hypnotically in slow motion.

Audio:
Big fat Matt Preston: “I bet you’re all wondering what’s in this box.”
Contestant #3: “And he says, ‘I bet you’re all wondering what’s in this box,’ and I was like, ‘Yes, I am wondering what’s in that box.’”
Contestant #4: “I mean, anything could have been in that box. I just wanted to know what it was.”
Contestant #9: “What’s in that box? I think we were all wondering it.”
Contestant #10: “I was definitely wondering what was in the box.”

Vision:
Big fat Matt Preston opens the lid of the box, but the contents are obscured to the viewers and contestants.

Audio:
Contestant #1: “Then Matt opens the box. I couldn’t see what was in it; no one really could see. I just knew that it was, you know, a mystery.”
Contestant #7: “I really want to know what’s in that box. I was really nervous not knowing the contents of the box. And then Matt tells us what’s in the box.”
Contestant #8: “So Matt tells us what’s in the box. After so much anticipation, it was a great relief to hear what was in the box.”

Vision:
Fat Matt Preston talking (and sweating slightly).

Audio:
Fatt Matt Preston: “Asparagus!”
Contestant #7,320: “Asparagus!”
Contestant #54: “Asparagus?”
Contestant #92: “I would not have guessed asparagus. I was thinking it might be fish. Or mangoes. But not asparagus.”
Contestant #8: “Ha, asparagus. You have to hand it to Matt Preston. I mean, no one would have expected that box to have asparagus in it. Wow. Asparagus.”

The next scene will have the contestants doing some kind of test where they have to walk through a room with saucepans on their feet while making the least amount of sound to win the opportunity to have first pick of the asparagus. No one will learn anything about cooking with asparagus, asparagus recipes or nutritional asparagus information, but a running commentary of a bunch of dickheads walking across a room with saucepans on their feet will be provided (“And I was walking across the room with saucepans on my feet and then I fell over.”)

The next thing we’ll see (and hear about) is one of the contestants making some kind of asparagus and white rhino goulash. We don’t know how they made it, what they're putting into it, why they opted for the subtle flavour of white rhino over the stronger taste of an African elephant, or even what the fuck a goulash is. We just see them goulashing away in various states of crying, while saying, “I turned the heat up to a million because I was running out of time,” while showing us a close-up of the stove and a shot of the clock, instead of hearing “a goulash is a European stew with meat and vegetables, and is usually seasoned with paprika and other spices. I think the rhino meat will add a nice consistency to the goulash but not overpower the taste of asparagus, which will make our pee smell funny tomorrow.”

While it’s nice for MasterChef producers to cater (see what I did there?) to our vision-impaired friends, I’m going out on a limb and saying that there probably aren’t a whole lot of blind people with massive ambitions to become chefs. There's something about a lack of sight combined with sharp knives, boiling pots of water and hot pans of oil that kind of turns people away. It would be mildly entertaining to watch for a while though.

This year’s series has already given us a local hero – John Hughes (sadly, not the bloke who wrote and directed The Breakfast Club, because he's dead [although that's a whole new reality show in the making: "Weekend at Bernie's MasterChef auditions"]) – has been awarded some kind of bravery medal for not serving up any food at all. I know quality is everything, but if I was in a restaurant and the waiter brought me a nice white plate with a napkin on it, I don’t think I’d be too happy. I wouldn’t run up to him and start licking his hand while dry-humping his leg while praising him for not cooking me food. If I was going to do that, I'd just stay home and go nuts on my ironing board (hello Thursday).

However, good luck to everyone involved in the show. I look forward to ordering a Big Mac from you when the contest is over, and you'd better not fuck with the sauce.

Last year’s winner Adam has gone onto great things including playing Funzo in an episode of The Simpsons

Mithter Evil Breakfatht'th Thor Review

2011-04-29T15:10:00.000+10:00

All bow down to MIGHTY THOR!

It has been a while since I reviewed a movie on here – it’s actually been a long time since I decided to shell out some coin to see a flick at the cinema – but I can happily report that I was sober enough to see Thor last week.

Thor is the first ‘superhero’ movie to come out this year (by my hazy recollection), and will be closely followed by Captain America, The Green Lantern and a new X-Men film that’s set about 40 years before the first X-Men film. Then we’ll have the new Spiderman movie (which takes the place of the old Spiderman movies), a third Batman flick, another Superman film (taking the place of both the first and last Superman movies) and then The Avengers film, which combines the Iron Man, Hulk, Captain America and Thor movies into one gigantic roll of film.

Got it? Easy as fucking pie. Not literally fucking pie though. That would just be weird (and a waste of a pie… or is it?).

Even Thor himself would probably admit that he isn’t as well known as superheroes like Batman and Spiderman, but is slightly more recognisable than guys like Deadpool or Cable. So don’t feel too bad if you don’t know who Thor is down to the last hair on his pretty little face. Let’s just say that he’s the Norse God of Thunder who lives in a world called Asgard; otherwise it gets confusing and all the fanboys crack boners about inconsistencies and oversights from Issue #592 where he finds out he’s not a god and is actually an alien. It’s stupid, so let’s just say he’s a god.

Here’s the movie in a paragraph:
Thor adopts the policy of “a good offence is the best offence” and duly goes on the offensive against a race of other beings called the Frost Giants who threaten Asgard’s safety. It doesn’t quite go to plan, and everyone is angry when the peace treaty between the Giants and the peeps of Asgard is jeopardised. To teach Thor a lesson in humility, his dad (Odin) banishes him to Earth without his super strength or his super hammer, Mjollnir (and you learn how to actually pronounce it, which is nice. I still prefer my own way, which starts with “M” and ends with me mumbling into my hand while I cough). On Earth, Thor meets Natalie Portman, eats some eggs, learns a few lessons, goes out drinking… you know, much the same as anyone else’s weekend.

And it all goes pretty fucking well, in my most humble opinion (it’s not humble at all). Asgard looks cool, Earth looks the way I imagine it looks, and the performances are all very decent, which is the one thing I was slightly worried about from the trailers and nerdblogs that I had been haunting prior to the movie’s release.

Chris Hemsworth plays the titular character (I only wrote that so I could say “tit”), who people may remember as “that guy from Home and Away.” Apparently since leaving Summer Bay, he has been busy eating rice, chicken breast and small planets, as he seems to have become (and I quote) “the world’s largest individual.” I thought he did a good job as acting like the God of Thunder without coming off as a massive loser – probably better than I would have done – and actually gets to show a bit of emotion (the Mjollnir scene at SHIELD headquarters was a standout). Some of the dialogue is a bit tacky, but when you’re dealing with this kind of story, you get that. I also spent a lot of the movie thinking, “Fuck that guy looks like Lubers,” who is a bloke I went to school with. I never realised how attractive Lubers was (sorry Lubers).

There were also enough nods to the Marvel comics geeks out there (hello!) to keep them happy (although no real nerd is ever happy enough with anything to keep them off the forums for long), with the introduction of Hawkeye, mentions of Thor’s original alter-ego Donald Blake, the obligatory cameo from Stan Lee and a bigger role for the SHIELD crew who have been working for a couple of movies now to assemble the Avengers (some people will see what I did there).

As is everything in the year 2011, there’s a 3D version of Thor out there. I saw the movie in 2D, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss anything by seeing it with a missing dimension. 3D movies are all fucking stupid anyway, and they give me headaches. Plus, those glasses are expensive and I’m working on a budget here.

If I had to nitpick anything about the flick, I’d say that there probably needed to be a few more fight scenes, and maybe a bit more of Thor learning some Earthian shit; I mean, the guy has come from a place where everyone wears leather armour and ornamental helmets in their day-to-day, and suddenly he’s in a place with skinny jeans and mobile phones. But these are minor quibbles, and any movie that makes me speak like a Norse god with a slightly British accent for hours after I’ve left the cinema is never a bad thing.

This was a good movie. NEXT!

Pew pew pew!

NRL 2011 Round 8: Coaches and dinner and that

2011-04-28T22:13:00.000+10:00

I have to admit that I didn’t really pay attention to the footy over the Easter ANZAC break, so I’m just going to assume that Todd Carney got pissed and started strangling kittens with panda intestines (and not in the good way). You know, just business as usual.

However, in real news according to the googlebox, St George coach Wayne Bennett has been signed by Newcastle, Penrith coach Matt Elliot was fired by the Panthers who are chasing Tigers coach Tim Sheens, and Raiders coach Dave Furner is sweating like a badger in a wetsuit about his future. Because if a coach can’t make his team catch the ball, who can? The players? You must be kidding.

“Overpaid League Player, you dropped a lot of ball out there today.”

“Yeah we did, Stating-The-Obvious-Journalist; it just wasn’t in our game plan.”

“Catching the ball wasn’t part of your game plan?”

“Yeah. Our coach went through the plan and that with the boys and that before the game, you know, in the sheds and that, and he mentioned tackling and getting numbers in defence and that, but you know, he didn’t say anything about catching and that. And at the end of the day, I reckon that was probably what was missing in our game.”

“…”

“…and that.”

“…”

“I’d just like to give a shout out to my girlfriend Sharon, who’s giving birth for the first time today. Thanks to Channel Nine and Toyota.”

“…”

“…and that.”

“…thanks Overpaid League Player, better luck next week.”

So it seems that there are some coaching shifts afoot, which always throws a bit of chilli into the chicken when it comes to picking your footy tips. Are the teams happy to have the fat trimmed off the bacon? Do they realise you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette? Or are they trying to turn a pork chop into a t-bone? (sorry, just thinking about some dinner options for tonight) Whatever the case is (probably spaghetti, to be perfectly Francine), teams always perform unpredictably when a coaching change occurs.

Except the Raiders, they will still suck.

Broncos v Bulldogs

Rabbitohs v Sharks

Titans v Roosters

Cowboys v Sea Eagles

Storm v Knights

Warriors v Panthers

Dragons v Eels

Raiders v Tigers

The more astute among you will probably have noticed that I have tipped all home teams this week… except the Raiders. The most astute of you will have noticed that I used the word ‘astute’ and didn’t have to look up its meaning. I like you guys.

What’s left to talk about with the mighty fucking Raiders? They have a strong team on paper, a good record of playing at home and a lovely green jumpie to wear, but it’s just not coming together at the moment. If it was going to come together, it probably would have done so against Newcastle last weekend, when the Green Machine sputtered to a grinding, noisy, messy halt after about 60 minutes and let the match slip between their slimy webbed fingers. With each loss comes more pressure, and with more pressure comes more mistakes. I don’t see this week as being a good one for us (again).

Once the team starts looking at giving it up for the year and begins planning for the 2012 season, we might even win a few games.

And that makes me a sad Raiderfan.

This is about as scary as the Raiders have been this year

MEB cumulative score: 27

it's such an honour to be nominated, so winning makes me a fucking wizard

2011-04-27T15:19:00.000+10:00

OMG what a week it is for A-list celebrities!!!!!1111

First of all, there’s the Royal Wedding between Prince Harry’s half-brother and that hot chick who looks a bit like a cross between Katie Holmes and the good looking Spice Girl (if there is one). Unfortunately, my invitation to the wedding was lost in the mail, so I won’t be going to that one. But that’s ok, cause I’m fucked if I’d know what to get them for a present anyway – probably a casserole dish. He looks like a casserole kind of guy.

The Royal Wedding can now be enjoyed as a pizza topping

Secondly, we’ve got the Logies. For those not in the know, the Logies celebrate achievements in the field of Australian television entertainment, with way too much pretension and self-importance than they really deserve. I’m not saying it’s the actors fault (I am a little bit), but sometimes you have to admit that being on Home and Away really doesn’t require wearing a $100,000 pair of earrings and talking about a hideous dress that some billionaire designer got a couple of Asian kids to stitch together for you.

In any case, I am a proud Aussie and therefore it is my God-given right to cut some people down to size, even if they’re not being dicks about anything. It’s all part of being a tops Australian; if you’re good looking, you’re probably too good looking looking. If you’re not good looking, you fucking well should be better looking. Aussies are tops at bitching about pretty much everything.

Oh, and Justin Bieber is coming to hand out an award to someone he’s never heard of for an achievement he doesn’t understand. I’m sure it will be a great honour for him to meet Daryl Somers. He might even be taller than him (but probably not). By the way, Biebs only has one more album than I do at the moment. I am expecting a call up to the Logies next year.

This is what Australia is fighting for - an alien holding a box of TV Week magazines.

I’m only going to look at the big award for the Logies this year – the GOLD LOGIE, which is so grand that I will write it in uppercase all the time. The GOLD LOGIE is given to Australia’s favourite television douchenozzle, regardless of how talented or not they may be. Actors face off against hosts who fight amongst personalities who are competing against oldies who are about to be fired from their particular program. Let’s look at the nominees for the GOLD LOGIE this year:

Adam Hills
Hillsy is a pretty funny bloke actually, which always helps in terms of popularity. Also, he only has one foot… so that might work in his favour, depending on how he plays it. Or if he even plays it at all. He's a smooth operator.

Hillsy appears on two shows, one of which I haven’t actually seen; I’m pretty sure I watch documentaries about rhinos when it's on. His other show is pretty good, but is running out of steam. If Hillsy doesn’t win it this year, he won’t get it til he’s about 70 and still hosting Spicks and Specks from his loungeroom.

Asher Keddie
Asher really isn’t a name, so she shouldn’t be allowed to win in case she inadvertently inspires some bogans to reproduce and give out fake names to their children.

Asher probably won’t win, because no one has ever watched her tv show, Offspring, for the two seasons it has been running. I’ve seen some promos for it, and it reminds me of Secret Life of Us just as it went really shithouse and they tried to make Stephen Curry the main character.

Chrissie Swan
Swannie’s inclusion in the list was met with some raised eyebrows (except from Bert Newton who hasn’t been able to raise his eyebrows since 1983) seeing as she’s on a day-time chat show that no one watches because, you know, they have jobs to go to or documentaries on rhinos to watch (and no, that’s not a fat joke about Chrissie Swans… or is it?). She won’t win, but at least people know she exists now. Expect her to get a Guernsey hosting the Biggest Loser once Hayley Lewis goes in for personality surgery.

Jessica Marais
I first misheard this chick’s name as Jessica Mauboy, which wouldn’t have surprised me – Mauboy will turn up to the opening of an envelope and bore everyone shitless with her shit song with Snoop Dogg. But then I heard her name properly and realised that I had no idea who she is (apparently she's on Packed to the Rafters). I’ve never watched it - I don’t know when it’s on or even what channel – even though it is Australia’s most popular program and had people pissing in their Kleenex-filled pants when a character on the show died. If it was Jessica Marais’ character who died, it would be nice for her family if she won. Except her family aren’t real and she didn’t actually die.

Fuck it, I’d rather Jessica Mauboy wins instead of Jessica Marais. At least I know who she is.

Rebecca Gibney
Gibbo is probably front-runner to win the GOLD LOGIE this year – she’s been around for a long time and isn’t terrible to look at for a middle-aged duck. She’s another one from the Packed to the Rafters crew – I am just going out on a limb and saying that her character is probably not entirely dissimilar to Rebecca Gibney, much like most of Rebecca Gibney’s other roles. It would be better if her character killed people and hid them in wheelie bins. Actually, if I made that show, it would reach such great heights of success that they would rename the Logies the WHEELIE BINS FILLED WITH DEAD PEOPLE AWARDS. If anyone else makes it I’ll be really angry and will probably cry (so don't do it).

I’d prefer if Gibbo didn’t win the GOLD LOGIE this year, as I still haven’t forgiven her for appearing in those shitty Wii ads.

Karl Stefanovic
Everyone loves Karl Stefanovic, even if you say you don’t. In fact, the more you say you don’t like him, the more you actually do. Karl’s greatest achievement is turning up to host the Today show after a massive night on the piss and falling asleep while staring at his co-host’s tits. It was a great moment for Australian television. Karl has since reinvented himself as a professional journalist, and has perfected his ‘serious’ voice for stories involving tragedy, death and new exercise equipment.

In a piece of trivia, I thought his name was Kyle when I first saw him on telly.

WHO WILL WIN?
Gibbo

WHO WILL CARE?
No one

WHO DO I WANT TO WIN?
Kyle

NRL Round 7: Blasphemy and worms

2011-04-21T15:07:00.000+10:00

Hands up if you had a massive improvement on your tips for last round. Everyone?

Good.

Hands up if you’re still bottom of the ladder. Just me?

Yep.

This weekend’s rounds have opened up many, many cans of worms regarding each team’s form, injury toll, depth of interchange and who has been arrested during the week. Will the Roosters be able to put a turbulent few days behind them for the much-anticipated grand final replay? (no) Will the Broncos' defence continue to hold out wave after wave of attackers running one-pass off the ruck? (yes) Do the Eels really suck that much? (yes) Exactly how injured is Josh Dugan? (not very) Are the Bulldogs seriously that arrogant despite not being very good? (YES) It’s statistics like this that make this great game as great as it is, which is just great.

Sea Eagles v Panthers
Tigers v Broncos
Sharks v Cowboys
Bulldogs v Rabbitohs
Eels v Titans
Roosters v Dragons
Storm v Warriors

Raiders v Knights

Seeing as it’s Easter, it’s fitting that Jesus is a card-carrying member of the Raiders, because if anyone needs to resurrect their season, it’s the mighty Green Machine, and I believe Jesus has had some experience with that.

“…and Jesus did go unto Bruce stadium to watch the Raiders play the Knights that day in the afternoon. With just seven minutes to go, Canberra had only scored six points to Newcastle’s fourteen.
‘Jesus,’ implored Peter, who had pie pastry on his bottom lip that no one had told him about. ‘There is not enough time for the Raiders to win. Six points is not enough to beat the Knights.’
So Jesus did kneel down and pray and pick up another can of beer that was resting on the ground, gave thanks and praise and tied his sandal.
Through the power of God, Jesus took those six points and turned them into thirty, defeating the Knights and restoring a bit of pride to the for-and-against differential.
‘My Lord,’ said Peter. ‘That is enough to beat the Knights and whichever losers we play next weekend!’
‘Fuck yes,’ replied Jesus, finishing his beer. ‘Let it be known that through the power of God almighty, the Raiders will use this victory to forge towards the top of the NRL ladder. Spread the word.’
‘Isn’t it cheating though, lord?’ asked Thomas.
‘Thomas, why are you such a fucking little bitch all the time? It’s your shout, hurry up and go while they’re still serving.’
And Thomas did as Jesus had asked, because he snuck into the stadium anyway, and didn’t really like rugby league in the first place.

This is the word of the Lord.”

Poor Matt Orford. But this is funny.

I swear a lot in this blog

2011-04-20T15:25:00.000+10:00

Please put a shirt on

A lot has been written about rugby league this week, from assault to drunken assault and offender to repeat offender. Apparently there were a few games that were played as well - “Dragons win in boring match” and “Raiders still suck and are happy to have their shithouse performances overshadowed by a couple of fuckwits” all got minor write-ups in the media.

And that’s the problem with rugby league in Australia at the moment – there are too many fuckwits playing.

Let’s ignore the main concerns with the game - no one seems sure about how to pack, feed or negotiate a scrum; there’s debate about how to pronounce Isaac de Gois’ name; and teams are swapping coaches, players and tattoo artists mid-season – and let’s concentrate on fuckwits.

The latest fuckwit to have one shandy too-many and beat seven shades of shit out of a woman is Anthony Watts, a bloke I hadn’t actually heard much about before the weekend, when he announced himself as a genuine fuckwit contender by punching a woman. I don’t think we’ll be hearing too much more from him actually, so I won’t waste too much brain space that could be better served remembering characters from Saved by the Bell.

The other fuckwit – probably my current favourite fuckwit - is Todd Carney.

The Raiders kicked him out of their club a few years ago for being a fuckwit, so he spent a year perfecting his drinking and fuckwittery in North Queensland before signing with the Roosters under the tagline of “fallen angel”. He did a round of press where he announced that he had given up the plonk and the pills and was concentrating on nursing orphaned orang-utans back to life and curing cancer in his spare time. That was a year ago.

Now he’s mumbling his way through 2011, squinting at the world, licking windows, dribbling on himself and spending the weekend at the Coogee Pub after telling his team that he was visiting his mum in Goulburn. Not only did Carney not visit his mum to piss it up at the pub, he wouldn’t have been able to if he tried, seeing as he is actually banned from entering Goulburn. While there’s not a lot to do there (the Big Merino is pretty impressive though), being banned from your home town is a pretty good sign that you’re a massive fuckwit, kind of like being denied a UK visa. It’s a special accolade for such a special brand of fuckwit.

In keeping with the rules of league, the NRL gave Carney six chances to get his fuckwittery in order. By my count, he’s up to nine tackles and he’s still a long way downfield. But knowing this fuckwit, he’ll make a break, chip over the top and recollect it to score under the sticks, giving himself the lead and earn himself another six chances.

Carney has not broken any laws in his latest fuckwit escapades ("I haven't done nuffin wronk, but!" Todd grunted). He hasn’t beaten anyone up, pissed on them or been involved in a high-speed car chase while drunk; he was just out on the turps.

His club has told him several times in the past: “Todd, please stop getting on the turps.”
Todd said: “Ok," and went back to staring at the fridge.

Todd got back on the turps in a big way. He is one of Sydney’s most recognisable fuckwits and it’s common knowledge that he isn’t allowed to be on the turps.

If my boss told me to stop thieving stationery from work, I would. I wouldn’t go into Officeworks and load myself up with Sharpies and Post-it notes while their CCTV caught me rubbing myself with those spongey wrist protector things for your keyboard. I wouldn’t try and excuse myself by saying that I suffer from a disorder or an illness that requires constant highlighter stealing.

Todd Carney isn’t sick. He is just a fuckwit. He is a fuckwit who piffs a ball around a field once a week. I’m sure the NRL can find someone else to piff it around instead of Toddy (I'm available for about $30 000; I am shit at footy, but I am a good bloke).

Get well soon, TC. Say hi to Matthew Newton for me in pretend rehab.

How to go to the bar with $20 and come home drunk with $30

2011-04-19T17:38:00.000+10:00

It’s getting a bit brisk outside, eh? This phenomenon of cold weather is called “not summer anymore” and usually happens around this time each year. However, it doesn’t mean that you can’t still head out to the pub for a couple of schooeys with your mates; if anything, you should embrace the chill and piss it up as much as you can, as other thin-skinned idiots will opt to stay at home and watch repeats of Birds of a Feather on telly, meaning you won’t have to line up for twelve hours to order a beer while some clown in front of you tries to decide whether he should get a Victoria Bitter or a Melbourne Bitter.

As always, there are a few things that you need to keep your eye out for when frequenting a bar, pub, club or underground liquor dealing establishment. What follows is Mister Evil Breakfast’s Follow Up To A Previous Guide That Also Had To Do With Drinking Beer But This One Is About Tight Arses Especially (MEBFUTAPGTAHTDWDBBTOIATAE). Thank god for acronyms.

Statistics prove that in 71% of regular drinking groups, there’s one member who doesn’t always play by the rules and may benefit from each round of drinks more than his or her friends do. I can’t seem to lay my hands on the volumes of scientific research that went into this statistic, so you’ll just have to take my word on it. I daresay the Vatican has got its hands on it by now… sneaky Vatican. No one ever suspects the Pope. On a side note, I wonder what kind of undies the Pope has?

Archaeologists like Indiana Jones and other people who aren’t entirely real have dug up proof that cheapskates at the pub have existed since prehistoric times.

The Drinkasaurus Rex was a dinosaur who lived in the Triassic Period in what is now the Gobi Desert. Fossils have shown that this six-foot scavenger would readily group with other species of dinosaurs including the Myshoutasaurus, Haveabeermateritops and the Ucanbuythenextroundadon. The Drinkasaurus Rex’s most recognisable characteristics were that its arms were not long enough to reach into its pockets, and therefore relied on other dinosaurs to purchase beer. It is ironic then, that palaeontologists have theorised that the Drinkasaurus would consume any available liquid, but was either not able or not willing to provide it for himself.

A more recent example of cheapskate drinking is the Disappearing Coin phenomenon, whereby the cost of each round of drinks changes, either by bartender error, order differences or some underhanded tight-arse tactics in which you time your move right and order a round of light beers and hope that no one notices. More confident Magicians of the Disappearing Coin may opt for the “I’ll go if you pay” theory, and keep a certain amount of the change without telling the payer of the shout.

Other strategies of thieving some money from your mates under the guise of beer provision is to announce yourself as the next shouter and casually stroll up to the bar. Order your drinks and call upon one of your friends to help you carry the glasses back to your group. At the point of paying for the beverages, feign surprise when your wallet is empty. To avoid complete embarrassment, ask your mate to spot you, and swear you’ll go to the ATM and pay him back. If, during the night, he asks if you have that money, tell him that the ATM is “rooted” and it looks like “some bastard” has shoved an old Video Ezy membership card into the slot, and you will pay him back “later” or “as soon as we leave this place”. “Later” is a vague description of the future, and you should both know that the only way you’ll leave the pub is when no one has any more money.

By the way, it’s your shout, tiger. I got the last one.

NRL 2011 Round 6 – I have my serious face on

2011-04-15T13:16:00.000+10:00

There comes a time in every tipster’s life when they have to stop tipping games with their heart, and start using their head. This week is such a time for me. I have grown a beard for this occasion; it gives me a look of wisdom and gravity. I can also stroke it thoughtfully as I ponder the outcomes of each game this week – who’s in, who’s out; whose groin is sore, whose groin is not sore. Honestly, it keeps me awake at night, thinking about all those groins. Well, that and dinosaurs with nightvision goggles. We cannot escape them… and that’s awesome.

I reckon that it’s right about now that Souths are wondering if Inglis was worth the money, Hindmarsh is wondering why he bothers turning up at all, and Todd Carney’s wondering who he has to blow to win the Dally M again this year.

Eels v Bulldogs
Titans v Tigers
Sea Eagles v Warriors
Roosters v Broncos
Knights v Sharks
Panthers v Storm
Rabbitohs v Dragons

Cowboys v Raiders
Sorry Raiders, but you’ve had enough chances. You’re playing shithouse all over the park. Everyone’s blamed Matt Fucking Orford for your fucking awful performances so far, but it really has been a full team effort to have sucked so much this season.

Morford is out this week after pulling his groin (that joke never gets old) and Sammy “the great white hope” Williams gets another chance to impress my socks off. It won’t be an easy game for him though, as the Canberra pack look like they’ve all swapped their beef jerky injections for non-fat chai lattes, and might leave Sam fighting a lonely, uphill battle.

I have no idea how the Cowboys are playing this year, but I think it’s safe to assume that they’re doing much better than Canberra at the moment, so they’re getting my nod for the week.

Go fuck yourselves, Raiders, you fucking fucks (PS. I love you).

MEB cumulative score: 16

This guy is so pissed off at the Raiders, he cut the head off their mascot and made a suit out of his skin

Seasoned with salty tears

2011-04-14T16:54:00.000+10:00

My Kitchen Rules is over for another series, and congratulations to whoever the fuck won. I couldn’t tell any of the contestants apart to be honest; all crying fuckwits look the same to me.

I did not watch a whole lot of this show, because it contains two things I hate quite a lot: pretentious foodies and crying fuckwits who want to be pretentious foodies.

According to news.com.au, the winners knocked up a five-course dinner which featured:
raw kingfish and cuttlefish cerviche, porcini mushroom risotto, pan fried Blue Eye, stuffed quail wrapped in prosciutto and pear and almond tart with saffron ice cream.

If anyone knows what the fuck that is all about, let me know. It must have been a real challenge for them to serve raw kingfish though. I’m no expert (I am really), but raw kingfish sounds like a fairly easy thing to knock up:
Step 1: drink a bottle of wine.
Step 2: put fish on a plate.
Step 3: give plate to pretentious foodies and await praise for the fine texture and spiritual journey that your food has sent them on.
Step 4: drink more wine, tell pretentious fuckwits to leave because you need to vomit.

My real problem with this show (and most reality shows at the moment), is that there are too many people crying about too much useless rubbish. I know it’s a competition and all, but there’s really no need to break down because you burnt your pistachio-coated walrus balls. If anything, the walrus is the one who should be crying. But he’s not, because he’s awesome. The phrase “this is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done” was uttered by a contestant through a hitching throat and free-flowing tears as they attempted to MAKE PASTA.

Is cooking that much of a passion of yours, crying contestants? Really? It’s all you dream about; it’s your “creative outlet”? Then why did you spend four years studying accounting and the next twenty years being a fucking accountant? Here’s an idea – enrol in a culinary school (feel free to use the phrase “I’m sick of ‘cooking the books’ as an accountant” on your application) and get your snotty face away from my quail. And get your quail away from my chicken; this isn’t a Roald Dahl story.

If I was going on Sooky Bitches Kitchen, I would knock up my specialty:

La Nouille du Triomphe
A bowl of delicately boiled ramen noodles seasoned with a subtle blend of chicken or beef and served floating in a natural jus.

Les doigts du poisson et rouge
A mouth-watering arrangement of oven cooked seafood with sweet tomato-based dipping sauce.

Fromage avec pain
A lightly toasted, seasoned bun with double layers of individually wrapped cheese and topped with another slice of bread.

Le Plat du Lait et de la Céréale
A satisfying end to the meal, this dessert consists of a bowl of Fruit Loops served with fresh milk. Served with a side order of peanut M&M’s.

And if I burn the bejesus out of my fish fingers, I’m not going to curl up into the corner of my kitchen and cry. I’m going to eat them anyway, because they’re actually not that bad when they’re a little crispy.

Nom nom nom. Don't pretend like you don't want them

With a little understanding, we can blend them all perfectly

2011-04-12T14:44:00.000+10:00

It has been a long time since my last Neighbours update – to be perfectly francis, I haven’t been watching it with my usual hawk-like intensity, as the happy hour times at the pub have changed to finish at 6pm. So when I order 400 drinks at 5:58pm, it sometimes takes me a while to drink them by myself, and then even longer to remember where I live or how to walk.

I have managed to catch a couple of episodes here and there, so I will give a briefish run-down of the trials and tribulations of our favourite (I use that term loosely) television neighbourhood as best I can (also used loosely).

Ins and Outs:
Ringo died, apparently. As is the standard punishment for not going to Charlie’s, Harold’s or school, Ringo attempted to cross a non-Neighbours road and was run over by Steph. His life was celebrated by people sitting around Harold’s Café for a while, listening to his latest single and drinking milkshakes. In a strange act of mourning for the loss of a bromance, Ramsay Street then divided themselves amongst Team Steph and Team Ringo for the ensuing court case.

Donna decided that she would pack up and head to New York after finishing the first year of her TAFE fashion course. It’s what Ringo would have wanted, after all. Well, that and not dying.

Steph went to jail after running Ringo over and killing him. Toadie was pretty busy that day, being the lawyer for the prosecution as well as the defendant whilst struggling with his own feelings about the case (being married to the defendant is a good way to get really involved), plus dodging death threats, new romantic interests as well as allowing himself sixty-four trips to Harold’s for a coffee while trying to organise custody of Steph’s thousands of children. I’m pretty sure someone took Charlie, put him in a drawer somewhere and forgot about him. We can only hope.

Karl and Susan are, unfortunately, still around. Karl finally accepted my Facebook friend request though.

Rebecca took off to Prague following the break-down of her marriage and affair. I think she might have taken Declan’s baby with her; I’m not sure. I have a sneaking suspicion that in about three months, baby India will return to Ramsay having aged about 15 years and join the rest of the Erinsborough kids in whatever grade at school they’re perpetually stuck in.

Goings-ons
Natasha the Ugly Bogan Chick pretended she was pregnant with Scottish Rob Farnham’s baby after discovering that he had been spending time with Summer. She decided to make him prove himself as a decent father-figure by forcing him to give up a high-paying job so he could spend more time at home with her and the kid, instead of, you know, providing for them. Rob was obviously distraught at having missed this opportunity, the likes of which only come up a few times each week for high-school students in Ramsay Street. He was even more pissed off that he spent $2000 on a stroller for a kid that never existed, meaning that he blew his entire coffee budget in one sitting.

Toadie has found himself a nice young lady to help create the nuclear family mirage for his adopted son, Callum. Unfortunately, it seems that the Neighbours curse of “no matter what you ever do in your life, it will fuck you up on Ramsay Street” has struck her down as well, and it appears that she is actually Callum’s birth mother. Oh the irony. It does however, fit in quite well with the fact that her sister appears to be of a completely different ethnicity than her, so it makes sense that her kid would look more like Carl Williams than an eight year old kid.

Kate’s relationship woes have continued as her policeman boyfriend broke up with her for lying in court. In some places (the world), this is known as perjury and is an actual crime and punishable by serving jail time. Having her relationship end because of this is probably not the worst thing that could have happened. It’s a pity, because Constable Kate’s Boyfriend was the closest thing that Ramsay Street has ever seen to having a likeable, honest and believable character. I mean, the guy drank a beer at the pub for fuck’s sake. No orange juice and decaflattechinos for him.

Rivers from Heartbreak High is still hanging around and seems to be moping about all the women in the Neighboursverse, both past and present. He signed up at a Policeman’s Information Booth at the local Ramsay Street Fete, so I’m assuming he’ll be making detective fairly fucking soon. He will also tap Toadie’s missus’ sister. I wish I could remember her name, or care enough to look it up.

MEB’s predictions for the Neighbour’s universe:
- Lou will make his standard one appearance per scene per week as he makes a snide comment about Lynne’s cooking.

- Susan will have another bout of some kind of mental disorder, giving her another chance to perfect her “No no, I’m fine, I just need some air” line.

- Zeke will either die in a car accident, receive an offer from London to DJ there (and die), or get someone pregnant (and die before the girl gives birth). Either way, Zeke is fucked.

- Natasha’s dad will either have a complete mental breakdown or develop a drinking problem. He will definitely drive his car over someone (look out, Zeke!). He will be counselled by Rivers from Heartbreak High.

- A new family will move into the street and while everything appears normal, it’s painfully obvious that they are running from something. They will all either move away or into someone else’s house within three months.

Round 5 – Do we really suck?

2011-04-08T13:10:00.000+10:00

They say a week is a long time in rugby league, but they are wrong – it’s really just seven days. It’s the same as a week in kickboxing, or a week in the backstreet underwater tennis tournaments that are creeping up all over Germany.

Round five of the NRL is upon us like a couple of streams of urine cascading down a shopfront window and I’m as excited as a policeman who’s just moved next door to Todd Carney about a couple of games this week. Seriously, does Carney have beer-flavoured nipples? Can’t we just put him on a rocket ship and fire him into the sun or something? While his sudden departure from earth may put a couple of tattoo parlours and nightclubs out of business, it will free up the cocaine trade and halve general fuckwittery around Sydney.

Darren Lockyer is about to tackle himself quite unawares

Cowboys v Titans

Tigers v Rabbitohs

Warriors v Roosters

Sharks v Sea Eagles

Storm v Eels

Dragons v Bulldogs

Broncos v Knights

Panthers v Raiders

Oh hello there, underachieving teams. How are you both going? Shithouse? Quite right. This game will sort out the contenders from the pretenders – not the band, although I’ve often thought that Chrissie Hynde would make a decent five-eighth. Who am I kidding – she’s a girl, so she can’t pass or catch (oooh sexist); just look at Matt Orford (ooooh controversial).

While Morford (or Matt Orful as he has been dubbed by the media) has yet to hit his straps this year… or last year… or possibly any year since 1996, Canberra coach Dave Furner has given him another chance to prove his worth, as he is currently sitting at about $8 in Italian Monopoly money, and he refuses to sell Old Kent Road. Meanwhile, Sam Williams continues to destroy all-comers in the Toyota Cup as he serves his suspension for playing well in first grade in Round One.

If the mighty Green Machine don’t win this week, I am officially getting rid of all of my merchandise, which means I’ll either have to sell/cut off my balls, which I have named Noa and Kenny. And no one wants that.

MEB cumulative score: 12

Dear Mr Cricket Australia...

2011-04-05T14:35:00.000+10:00

Click to read the small print

Dear Mr Cricket Australia,

I am writing to apply to the position of ‘Bowling Coach’ as advertised on the internet somewhere at some stage during the last few weeks. I believe I am well suited for this position due to my experience and passion for cricket, particularly in dealing with the development of more effective bowling techniques.

I have a clear understanding of the technical aspects of each variation of bowling style. I have been an avid student of Channel 9’s Wide World of Sports from an early age (and more recently, Fox Sports 1, 2 and 3 when I am at my brother’s house) which has granted me access to slow-motion cameras and improved technological advances such as Hawkeye, as well as expert opinions from former cricket players, journalists and Mark Nicholas on the art of bowling.

I have a strong understanding of the tactics involved in cricket (Test cricket, ODI and T20 forms) moreso than our former captain, Mr Ricky Fucking Ponting. I have watched first-hand as Australia’s recent tactics of allowing opposing teams to hit as many runs as they deem necessary have failed to win many games, and believe that there are better options available.

Whilst in attendance at a recent ODI match, I had the bright idea that the Australian bowlers could “ping the ball at the three sticks at the other end” and for the next eight overs, yelled out this exact message after each ball was delivered shorter and wider than the last. After those eight overs, during which Australia’s bowlers induced the number nine batsman into hitting several boundaries, the crowd around me declared me a genius tactician, however drunk I was, and many began yelling their own advice to the Australian team. It soon became clear that my voice was beginning to fail me, as I had been offering advice to the Australian team since the beginning of the game, and I was grateful to have this support, as my passion has been recorded as “drunken, rambling and incessant abuse” in the past by several members of the constabulary.

My ability to develop individual player plans are second-to-none, a skill which can be verified by my neighbours, who have complained to the police on several occasions due to my loud vocalisations while watching cricket. I was the first to advise Ricky Ponting to retire (in about 1994, I believe), and have worked out flaws within the batting of new captain Michael Clarke, previous captain Ricky Ponting and newcomer Steve Smith, which mainly involves landing the ball in the general vicinity of the pitch. This is the same plan that Shane Warne used to dismiss Darryl Cullinan during the 1990s.

The current Australian attitude to bowling tactics relies heavily on the Skeletor Principle. The Skeletor Principle (as you know) is based on the villain in the He-Man cartoons, who would invent a magical weapon, and through the use of said magical weapon, have He-Man and his allies tied up and powerless, only to have Orko break free from a non-guarded, non-secured jail cell, free the heroes and thwart Skeletor’s evil plan. While this attempt at defeating the most powerful man in the universe was deemed a “failure” by Skeletor and never spoken of again, the plan had potential to succeed at a later time during a future skirmish. If Skeletor were to repeat his scheme, but alter it slightly, such as introducing Mer-Man (or a second gully fieldsman) to ensure Orko did not escape, I believe success would follow quickly.

Recognising weaknesses within opposition batsmen has been difficult to ascertain recently, although it seems that they are able to play wide half-volleys and short legside deliveries without concern. If successful with this application, I would focus on improving the accuracy of our bowlers with a one-point plan, which would incidentally save Cricket Australia about $800,000 per year. It’s a plan that I have named “Operation: Drop Mitchell Johnson” which is a title that I think explains the crux of my idea fairly succinctly. I am prepared to go through the plan with Mitchell several times, as I understand he is originally from Queensland. I will also explain it to Ian Chappell if necessary.

I have used my knowledge of bowling mechanics in practice, and have played under a range of conditions to test my bowling theories. My first foray into bowling began as a child when, armed with a tennis ball covered in gaffa-tape, my brother and I would play epic cricket contests in our driveway, using the unpredictable swing, bounce and seam movement to our advantage. This is also the time that I perfected my “bean ball”, which uses the element of surprise, pace and a wicket that is at least three times the height of the current stumps. The bean ball should be released whilst aiming for the batsman’s head, and when done correctly, will hit them in the forehead/bridge of the nose on the full. The next delivery will be the same, but should have the batsman ducking, therefore exposing his stumps and losing his wicket. Should the batsman counter this tactic with a hook shot, it was the bowler’s duty to climb onto the roof (including neighbour’s roof, if accessible) to retrieve the ball and to “stop bowling like a fuckwit.” It is evolutionary tactics of the game of cricket such as these that keep bowlers’ minds fresh, and also why I can climb walls like Spider-man.

As were the rules of driveway cricket, each over had to be bowled in a different style, and since there were only two of us playing, this necessitated learning new deliveries. Over the years, I was able to incorporate bowling aspects from Merv Hughes’ run up, Damien Fleming’s outswinger and Glenn McGrath’s stump-to-stump, while later preferring the subtlety of Tim May’s arm ball, the Colin Miller mix-up and Steve Waugh’s slow-ball.

It was during an over of unleashing Shane Warne’s armoury on my brother that I discovered that I could bowl a googly with good accuracy and flight; a delivery which bamboozled him for three balls, until he realised that he could easily predict the spin of my ‘leggies’, as I was not able to get the ball to turn the other way. It still looks good though, and spins a fair way.

I used these tricks of the trade whilst playing several seasons of indoor cricket, and succeeded in perfecting what has been described as “gentle outswingers that are shit enough to get a wicket”. I then discovered that by bowling with the shiny side facing the other way, I could bowl “gentle inswingers that are shit enough to get a wicket”. I believe the term for an inswinger has been changed by Cricket Australia to “reverse swing”, but the concept of the ball moving through the air remains the same. I will also explain this to Ian Chappell, using diagrams if required.

I have outstanding leadership qualities, although I understand that Cricket Australia does not require anyone within their organisation to possess such skills. I am also able to utilise networks, as evidenced by a recent pub-crawl in which I was part of seven different shouts (twice) before I had to purchase a single beer. This indicates that I am able to exploit many people at once (while drinking); a skill that being the coach for any national sporting team should possess. Networking is important, especially when you’ve forgotten your wallet.

I have the ability to develop strong relationships with players, and look forward to forging a strong bond with a certain Mike Hussey. I would also enjoy the opportunity to work closely with Clarke and Ponting, as it has proven quite difficult to ensure that they are the ones who are eating the breakfast cereal laced with shards of broken glass and rat poison that I send them. I would also like to be present when I relieve Shane Watson of his recently-appointed vice captaincy role; I believe he would cry and it has been a dream of mine to see him sook like a bitch in public. I also think his missus is hot, and wouldn’t mind “meeting” her during a team function.*

*I want to have sex with her

I am willing to travel and work full-time with the Aussie lads (after the funerals of Clarke and Ponting and the ensuing coronial inquest of course), as their hectic cricketing schedule lately seems to be to sit around and enjoy a few beers while waiting for the next pay cheque to roll in. Seeing as it’s going to get what meteorologists are calling “a bit fucking nippy” in Canberra pretty soon, I welcome the opportunity to spend the winter under the Caribbean summer sun, or wherever the hell we’re going next. I would also enjoy the opportunity to visit the sub-continent and talk to local experts about bowling in difficult conditions, and how the modern game has made it so much harder to cheat.

I would work around the clock with the Australian bowlers to ensure that their fitness levels are peak, injury levels are down, and Twittering accounts are up-to-date. I have recently passed fifty tweets and still don’t really understand what it’s for.

I look forward to discussing my bowling philosophy of “we’re not here to fuck spiders” with you. I believe its ancient and mystical (and amusing) overtones will inspire the Australian bowlers (except for Hilfy; I think he needs to be put out to pasture, just quietly) and get this once-formidable sporting team performing back to its great potential.

I am willing to accept as little as $80,000 per annum (and a case of beer each week, plus my rego just for another six months) for this role. I figure this is roughly a quarter of what you would normally pay someone to undertake such a prestigious position, but I am willing to take this salary so you can afford some better players.

Regards,

Mister Evil Breakfast

NRL 2011 - Round Four tips: Carn you Raiders!

2011-04-01T13:28:00.000+11:00

Welcome to round four, punters (not you, Ponting, you fucking fuck – I’m talking to the other punters), where we delve deep into the world of rugby league and discover who has the upper hand on-field through strength of body as well as mind, who has the right tactics and who has been secretly diddling his team-mate’s wife on the side (coughcoughTHURSTONcoughcough).

Let’s see, what happened last week? Oh right, everyone I tipped sucked massive balls. I am assuming it’s a ploy by the NRL and the University of Canberra Hockey Club Tipping Competition to take my tips and make a mockery of them. Seriously, that’s pretty much the only reason I can think of as to why everyone I tipped (especially Canberra) would have sucked so much last week. And the week before. Not to mention the fact that a steroid-ridden salary-cheating bunch of world beaters like the Storm can’t even get close to a team from Queensland (the NORTH of Queensland, to make things worse), who still haven't recognised that they won that game. Oh look, I just insulted North Queensland people. Luckily it will take them until next week to understand that, and even longer for them to respond, but only a day to forget what I said.

Rotary ho, let’s tip the shit out of this week:
Rabbitohs v Sea Eagles
Broncos v Panthers
Eels v Cowboys
Sharks v Warriors
Knights v Dragons
Roosters v Tigers
Storm v Bulldogs

Raiders v Titans
They’ve been down on form of late, have the mighty bloody fucking Canberra Raiders, but it’s about time they hit their straps against the losers from the Gold Coast, who rely solely on pretty boy Scotty Prince to keep the team on track. Then again, that’s more than the Raiders have had to rely on in the past couple of weeks. But this week will be completely different, if the team got the box of lucky Spider-man undies I sent them – unwashed of course, to ensure the luck isn’t washed out of them, which will inspire our boys to a thoroughly desmolishing victory over the Coast. Thanks for coming boys, don’t let our shitty weather and lack of interesting things to do hit you on the arse on the way home. Raiders by at least 20. MEB cumulative score: 8…

Pup Pup and Away!

2011-03-29T16:28:00.000+11:00

I now know why Superman never actually killed Lex Luthor; why the Ninja Turtles didn’t stab Shredder through the neck at the earliest opportunity and why Osama Bin Laden will never be found – everybody needs a nemesis.

If Shredder was defeated in his conquest for world supremacy, the people of earth would celebrate – the gateway to Dimension X would be closed forever, Krang and his legion of Foot Soldier minions would be stuck in limbo and life would be pretty sweet for everybody on this great round planet we call home. But then what would the Turtles do? Sit around and wait for a new supervillain to turn up and make a mess of things? Hell no. That might never happen, and with the amount of pizza they consume, they would turn into massive fat loser turtles who lose their nunchuks in their own rolls of belly-fat before it did. They need the Shredder as much as he needs world domination.

Today, Mr Ricky T. Ponting announced his retirement as the captain of the Australian cricket team.

I am officially without a nemesis.

Ponts lost the Ashes three times and then dropped the World Cup after having it in his spit-stained hands for twelve years. To put that into perspective, that means that when Australia first won the trophy, Steve Smith hadn’t even been born yet. Punter’s form has been scratchy (at best) for the last 18 months, going without anything even resembling a score and generally letting down his sponsors, potential sponsors, former sponsors, Cricket Australia and their sponsors, and quite possibly a few Aussie supporters as well. Ponting didn’t know which end to hold the bat, couldn’t tell the difference between a yorker and his left arse cheek, had no idea how to make runs and had a knack of ushering the ball straight to fieldsmen or directly onto his stumps.

Ricky Ponting loves jam doughnuts

People (like me) were calling for him to be sacked (or killed) (by me) as captain, as a player, as a functioning member of society. He lost his temper against a telly in the change room, he took offence to Steve Smith running into him when fielding, he tried to cheat when he was clearly out and he kicked a puppy whilst peeing on an orphanage that he’d just set on fire. And then he went and did the most Australian thing imaginable – he scored a century against a formidable bowling attack to ensure his place in the team for at least the next year. Even with his squinty chipmunk eyes, Ricky Fucking Ponting could see that Australian cricket was in steady decline and could only get worse, so he called the least-surprising press conference in the history of the world and appears to have handed the steering wheel of the broken, battered and half-sunk Titanic to Michael Clarke, including the use of the middle name “Fucking”.

Michael Fucking Clarke. Are you serious? Michael Clarke should not be the next captain of Australia. Michael Clarke is barely an Australian cricketer, let alone one fit enough to lead them. Sure, he has the occasional good day with the bat, and can be an attractive strokeplayer, but so was Mark Waugh. So was Damien Martyn. So was Jason Gillespie.

Michael Fucking Clarke is a marketing tool. He has an unsurprisingly bland Twitter account, he dates models, he drives nice cars, he has a non-offensive trendy haircut and enough tattoos to be deemed fashionable at the moment. He eats at trendy cafes and wears expensive suits. He is a walking, talking, Tweeting commercial for the game of cricket, and will wear the Australian captain’s title as if he deserves it for selling the most raffle tickets for a school fete.

He won’t lose his temper with Mitchell Johnson for bowling rubbish down the leg side.

He will allow opposition batsmen to farm singles from whichever spinner is chosen for that particular match.

He will whistle and wave his arms around a lot, but will not have set plans for any batsmen.

He will be polite and politically correctly honest during press interviews.

He will swear at an appropriate time during one of these press interviews to give him “edge”.

He will feast on bowling attacks when there is no pressure.

He will get out at the most inappropriate time when there is.

He will not change his batting style to suit the situation.

Michael Clarke doesn't even carry his own bat on or off the ground

I officially have a new nemesis.

my dad picks the fruit

2011-03-27T16:49:00.000+11:00

Sorry it has been so long since my last post, but I was deciding where to sit and it took me longer than I thought.

My crowbar has been gathering dust lately, and there are too many people wandering around without gaping wounds in their head, so it’s time to brush off the cobwebs (I got the old lady who lives in the apartment downstairs to do that actually, just in case there were still spiders hanging around) and get cracking on some deserving skulls. Today, I'm focusing on the fuckwit on the Cottees ad.

There has always been something about this guy that never quite sat well with me. I mean, I get the joke, don’t get me wrong. His name is Elizabeth. He’s a man. He likes ravioli. Funny stuff.

After a few times watching this ad, it dawned on me - he’s a fuckwit. He approaches this poor old duck working doing merchandising at Woolies spruiking cordial and starts laying into her. She’s just doing her job and minding her own business when Captain Fuckwit comes along and starts taunting her for giving away free samples of a refreshing beverage.

"You can make twice as much cordial by using half as much?" asks Fuckwit.

"Yep," replies the old duck.

"Bull-fucking-shit," says he, mocking her openly and loudly.

Why would the guy pick on her about his disbelief for cordial concentrate? It’s not like she invented the stuff - fuck it, she’s not even selling it; she’s giving it away. How much does this guy’s life suck that he needs to pick on people who work at the supermarket to make himself feel better? How does this guy react to mormons coming to his door, or people collecting money for the Salvos? I think it’s safe to assume that he beats them to death with their own bibles, cuts off their ears to make necklaces and hides their bodies in barrels of battery acid that he keeps in his garage. I also think he needs to reprioritise his life if he’s this passionate about cordial, and should stop spending his weekends hanging out at Cottees stands, slugging away at free cordial and giving shit to the old duck who really doesn’t deserve his fuckwit rants. She could be so affected by his verbal assault that suddenly she isn’t having such a good day - she feels old and unattractive, like her job is useless, like she has no worth. She doesn’t care for the fruity, sweet flavour of Cottees cordial, and instead prefers the sour bite of drinking straight meth and begging for cigarettes at the bus interchange.

This guy just needs to do what everyone else in the world has done and accept the fact that there’s been a change in the Cottees formula that allows for better concentration and you can make more Fruit Punch than you could before.

And there’s really no need to look so fucking happy about being called Elizabeth.

NRL 2011 Round Three: He Who Scores More Wins the Game

2011-03-24T22:09:00.000+11:00

Round Three is upon us, which traditionally happens the week after Round Two. It’s one of those natural parts of life, I guess, like waking up after you’ve been sleeping on your arm and not being able to feel it or roll over and you have to punch it with your other arm until it tingles and circulation returns.

Eels vs Rabbitohs (I have to get it right eventually)

Titans vs Broncos

Panthers vs Sharks

Warriors vs Dragons

Bulldogs vs Roosters

Sea Eagles vs Knights

Cowboys vs Storm

Tigers vs Raiders

Motherfucking Raiders. Last week’s game was kind of horrible to watch, but I did manage to get a pie and some beers at the game, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time for me. The players obviously had other things to do than turn up and play, which is fine. I think Deuce Bigalow was on telly, so that’s a decent excuse. I especially like the scene where Deuce attacks the army of midget prostitutes with a giant black dildo.

This week, the Mighty Green Machine is up against the Tigers, the team that knocked our boys out of certain premiership glory last year. The experts will look at the more fancied Canberra forwards to overcome the Tigers pack, but the Tigers backs have more experience to outclass the Raiders backline, but in the end it all comes down to the uniform. Canberra’s green jerseys will blend in more with the field and allow them to launch a few surprise attacks. Raiders by 3 in a tight one that they probably won’t deserve to win.

Brett Mullins. Isn't he beautiful? (yes) Photo used without permission and definitely for free.

MEB cumulative score: 5 (yes, really).

NRL 2011 Round Two: Go Fish

2011-03-18T11:37:00.000+11:00

The first round of a sporting season is always tricky to tip – let’s be honest, most of the blokes running around on the field hadn’t met each other yet and needed to keep looking down at their shirt to remember which team they were on. Round Two, however, is a different kettle of fish entirely. Just quietly, a kettle of fish would probably make the world’s worst cup of coffee, and most likely wouldn’t be entirely pleasant for the fish either. It’s not like a squid on a waterslide (which is fun for everyone).

Eels v Panthers
Storm v Titans
Tigers v Warriors
Cowboys v Knights
Rabbitohs v Bulldogs
Roosters v Sea Eagles
Sharks v Dragons

It’s always good to tip a few upsets, except for when they don’t win (most of the time). But this time they will.

Big Mal brings the cup home to Canberra. I am near the back wearing a hat. Look for me.

Raiders v Broncos

It’s a little-known fact that Jesus was a massive Raiders fan, and his experiences at the Canberra Stadium get a bit of a Guernsey in the Bible:

“…and Jesus did take his disciples to the stadium and decreed, ‘Peter, your God has spoken and has decided that you must go unto the bar, and bring us back several cans of VB and a couple of pies.’ But when Peter did place his order, he was told that there were no more pies. Upon hearing this, Jesus did say unto Peter, ‘Give me $20 and I will turn it into food.’ Peter presented the money to Jesus who summoned the Word of the Lord. He went to a bar about fifteen metres from the one that Peter was denied, gave thanks and praise and twenty dollars, and was able to feed his friends with pastry filled with meat and gravy. Peter saw this miracle and he believed. ‘Did you bring sauce?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ replied Jesus, and all who received sauce on their pie were truly grateful. ‘Did you get chips?’ asked Thomas. ‘I’m not lining up again,’ said Jesus. ‘Get your own fucking chips.’ And those around him did laugh, because no-one really liked Thomas, and would steal his chips when he came back anyway.”

MEB current footy tipping score: 3

NRL 2011 Round 1: The Toothless Sharks

2011-03-10T22:09:00.000+11:00

Welcome to season 2011, it’s nice to have you with us for another year of tips and picks for the wonderful game of rugby league. The NRL had a successful launch last week with one player being charged with assault and another for driving under the influence. There are still a few hours to go before kick-off, so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone didn’t add some sexual misconduct in there too – but I would be surprised if I was the one being misconducted. In the rare instance that I do get touched up by a pissed league player though, I always carry a camera and a copy of PhotoShop around with me.

This year’s tipping format will be slightly different from last year in that I’m not going to bore everyone shitless with a synopsis of each game. I have instead decided to concentrate all of my power into the mighty Canberra Raiders and will give my full attention to them (I think that was a sexual innuendo), unless there’s something else I’d rather talk about; in which case you should be prepared for some recent scientific theories about dinosaurs or how annoying that Natasha girl from Neighbours is.

And so, here we go for Rrrrrrrround One!

Broncos vs Cowboys

Roosters vs Souths

Titans vs Dragons

Warriors vs Eels

Storm vs Manly

Panthers vs Knights

Dogs vs Tigers

Raiders vs Sharks

2010 was a disappointing year for the Sharks, as the Grey Nurse took over the Great White as being “raddest fish in the sea” and Greg Norman lost to Happy Gilmore in a game of Pitch n Putt. Seriously, who the fuck are the Sharks? No one, that’s who. The Raiders will piss this one in, which is handy, because I’m buying them all beers before, during and after the game. I love you, Josh Dugan! WOOOO!

Close enough, Doogs.

PS. I love Alan Tongue too – one day he nodded ‘hello’ to me as we rode our bikes past each other. Either that or he was trying to crack onto me. Or he was trying to tell me that I had forgotten to put on pants.

PPS. I love Terry Campese as well, even though he has a broken leg. I will feed him grapes in his hospital bed if he wants (Terry, do you want me to come over this weekend? I am free on Saturday morning and after the game on Sunday. And on Monday, cause it’s a public holiday).

The Cricket World Cup can now begin

2011-03-07T17:28:00.000+11:00

Sorry for the lack of posting lately - I've been smoking crack with Charlie Sheen and it took me longer than I thought.

Faithful followers of this blog (both of you) have probably asked yourself "Where's Mister Evil Breakfast's Cricket World Cup write-up?" Well, to be perfectly honest, there had not been a Cricket World Cup going on until yesterday, because Mike Hussey had been omitted from the Australian team due to injury.

During the billionth pointless ODI this year, Mike Hussey tore his hamstring off the bone in his leg. Reports say that he tore it on purpose just to give the Poms a chance to win the game. They didn't.

After ripping out his hamstring, Huss then did his own surgery to reattach it without anaesthetic, using only a ball-point pen and three paper clips to prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that he is the manliest man since Roger Ramjet to set foot on this earth. Then he leapt off the operating theatre, kicked the shit out of a buffalo and ran across the Nullabor back to Perth to play in a Sheffield Shield game. He made 19 runs in the first innings and 11 runs in the second, which is still pretty good considering that he didn't take a bat with him and was swigging on a bottle of Johhny Walker at the same time.

Huss swam across the ocean to India, stopping briefly to impregnate a chick five times and taunt Kevin Pieterson for being a massive bitch. But now Hussey is back in the Aussie team, and the World Cup can begin.

Mike Hussey is so attractive, it's dangerous to show his entire head in photos

Oscar Predictions - Part 4: The Final One, Don't Worry

2011-02-27T16:39:00.000+11:00

Following my previous post's patented rant about not enough movies being about dinosaurs and robots (I am still holding onto the idea that Transformers 3 will be saved by the introduction of the DinoBots), we come to the nitty-gritty end of the Oscars and pick the winners of the “big” awards; the ones that water-cooler conversations revolve around. Except for the water cooler conversation at my workplace, which usually goes, “Why does this water taste like urine?” while I fight the urge to tell people how I managed to pee in the water cooler without spilling any.

And the nominees for Best Director are:

Black Swan - Darren Aronofsky

The Fighter - David O. Russell

The King's Speech - Tom Hooper

The Social Network - David Fincher

True Grit - Joel Coen and Ethan Coen

I am always interested in upcoming films and who has been given the job of directing them, but I honestly don’t really know what the director actually does other than decide where to stick the camera. I’m sure if Steven Spielberg is reading this, he’ll let me know in the comments section.

Todd the Psychic Dinosaur reckons Dazza Aronofsky is going to win, but I think Todd just likes the name “Aronofsky”. I can’t blame him for that; it is pretty fucking fun. And for that reason alone, I’m agreeing with my green, plastic friend.

Best Picture movies are always sketchy. If you ask someone what their favourite movie is, they’ll give you a list of flicks they love, but won’t be able to name just one as their ultimate champion. My list includes Point Break, Scary Movie 4 and a Pilates DVD that I got for free in the mail.

This year, the contenders for Best Movie Ever are:

Black Swan

The Fighter

Inception

The Kids Are All Right

The King's Speech

127 Hours

The Social Network

Toy Story 3

True Grit

Winter's Bone

Todd is going out on a psychic limb and saying that The King’s Speech is going to take home top honours, while I’m pinning my hopes on the only movie out of that list that I’ve actually seen – Toy Story 3. If a bunch of animated action figures can make me cry, they deserve as many golden statues as they can handle. And I didn’t really cry, the cinema was full of pollen, and I was cutting onions and I had something in my eye.

I’d like to thank the Academy and my parents and God and my agent and it’s just an honour to be nominated.

Oscar Predictions Part III: Sith Menacing Jedis

2011-02-25T16:49:00.000+11:00

Welcome to the third part in the ongoing saga that is predicting Oscar winners. The third part of a trilogy is always the worst. Or is it the best? Or somewhere in between? I can’t remember, although I think Jurassic Park 3 is better than Jurassic Park 2. I’m not sure about The Godfather 2 and 3, because I didn’t watch them (they don’t have dinosaurs or robots, so I’m not wasting my time). Robocop 2 was better than Robocop 3, but that’s not really saying much, as they both sucked. Robocop 1 is still awesome though.

I was originally going to predict a winner for each category, but no one cares about who wins for Art Direction and Cinematography, which only exist so “epic” films can get a guernsey, even if they’re shit like Pearl Harbour. It’s basically a pissing contest to see who has a better camera or who can afford to go and film a nice landscape shot in an untouched part of the world.

I’m also skipping Costume Design, a category that caters for period pieces and Shakespeare re-enactments (I see True Grit is nominated, which probably rules out the idea that it’s the sequel to True Lies, but still doesn’t discount the thought that it’s a prequel) and isn’t very interesting unless you’re into clothes that aren’t t-shirts, so I won’t waste time (or a paragraph) talking about it.

I’ll also gloss over the Editing prize, because in my mind it’s all about gluing reels of film together, which shouldn’t be that hard. Todd the Dinosaur thinks it would be hard, but he doesn’t have opposable thumbs and is an inanimate inflatable t-rex anyway, so most things are hard for him (except predicting the future).

I won’t predict who'll win for Make-Up either, because it’s really not that important unless you’re playing Freddy Krueger, and if a movie relies on make-up to gain interest, then I’m going out on a limb and saying that it’s a generally shit film that probably involves an old woman retelling her life story to some fucking kid. I won’t touch the Music categories either, because every movie should just play the theme to Indiana Jones whenever the need for music comes up.

Sound Editing? Nope.
Sound Mixing? Go fuck yourself in the ear.
Visual Effects? Normally this catgoery gets me moist in the nether regions (Todd as well), but lately I’ve been put off with movies being predominantly Visual Effectry to the point where you just sit around waiting for something real to arrive on screen. After sitting through the bullshit that was Alice in Wonderland, I wondered what the point of creating a computer-generated costume - in this case a chain-mail suit of armour - was all about when it didn’t do anything that real chain-mail armour wouldn’t have done. Waste of time and money and green screens, honestly. There’s people in Third World countries that don’t have green screens, and Hollywood wastes them on shit like Alice in Fucking Wonderland.

Tomorrow I'll wrap up the Oscar shit with all the big awards. Well, some of them.

PS. I did not like Alice in Wonderland.

Oscar predictions Part 2: Oscar's Revenge

2011-02-24T12:46:00.000+11:00

Welcome to Part 2 of Mister Evil Breakfast and Todd the Psychic Dinosaur’s Oscar Predictions (MEBATTPDOP).

Today we delve into the world of Supporting Actors. The problem with giving awards to Supporting Actors is that you don’t know whether they deserve credit for being really good in a shit role, or if they should be recognised for making up for the lack of acting ability of the lead actor. There’s probably more to it than that, but in my world, all movies have three people – the lead, the support and an extra who changes hats to appear in all other scenes.

Actor in a Supporting Role
Christian Bale in The Fighter - John Hawkes in Winter's Bone - Jeremy Renner in The Town - Mark Ruffalo in The Kids Are All Right - Geoffrey Rush in The King's Speech

This is going to be a hotly contested contest, honestly, considering that WHO THE FUCK ARE JEREMY RENNER AND JOHN HAWKES? I’ve heard of the other blokes, although the name Mark Ruffalo makes me think of a young Mark Wahlberg, which I’m sure isn’t right (or healthy).

Fuck it, I’m backing Batman for this one.

Todd the Psychic Dinosaur reckons Aussie Geoff Rush was robbed for his performance in Mystery Men, so he’s giving him the nod.

Actress in a Supporting Role
Amy Adams in The Fighter - Helena Bonham Carter in The King's Speech - Melissa Leo in The Fighter - Hailee Steinfeld in True Grit - Jacki Weaver in Animal Kingdom

I went to a wedding last year and a girl at my table changed my seat so she could sit with her friend. She reminded me of Amy Adams, even though I’m not entirely sure I know which one Amy Adams is. I imagine her to be a bit like Reese Witherspoon, but a bit taller.

Anyway, Amy Adams won’t win. Helena Bonham Carter is in with a chance, as she’s playing a role unlike anything in her career – a movie without Tim Burton or Johnny Depp. Melissa Leo won’t win because I don’t know her (as an aside, is anyone involved with The King's Speech and The Fighter not nominated for something?), same with Hailee Steinfeld, which isn’t even a name. Which basically brings us to Aussie Jacki Weaver, who was pretty damn good in Animal Kingdom (one of the three movies I have seen), but she won’t win either. I guess this means that HBC is the front-runner, simply because I know her, she isn’t a tall version of Reese Witherspoon and isn’t foreign to American audiences.

Todd the Psychic Dinosaur thinks Hailee is in with a good chance, despite neither of us knowing her or the film she’s nominated for. True Grit? Sounds like the sequel (or prequel) to True Lies, which, despite being mildly entertaining, probably doesn’t deserve an Oscar.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s instalment of Oscar shenanigans, where we skip pretty much all the shit categories and even some of the good ones.

You know that feeling where you need to pee, so you walk into the toilet and that need gets a hundredfold worse and then your zip gets stuck, and you have to start dancing and bending awkwardly so you don’t wet yourself while you wrestle with your fly and the pee feeling just keeps getting stronger?

Yeah, I just had that experience.