I'd Love Being A Turtle

I found this fellow hanging out on the street on my way to the milkbar earlier today.

Things got strange.

A bloke came out from the house the turtle was outside so I asked if he was looking for his turtle. No, but maybe his next door neighbor might be missing it.

They collect turtles.

I wait with the turtle for ten minutes for the result of the man's investigation.

Me and turtle chat.

Usual seasonal subjects, the drought, hero firefighters, how hectic the shopping malls are at the moment etc. The turtle tells me how he prefers to plan ahead with his Christmas shopping. He starts writing up lists in June.

Just as our conversation got tedious, the man appears with his lovely lady next door neighbor wielding a basket and a towel.

Turns out that none of her turtles had done a runner and this turtle was either a local from one of the nearby parks or an escapee from a few blocks away.

We agreed she take the turtle back to her turtle complex to crash on her son's turtles' couch for a few nights.

Christmas Time With Bing, Bowie And Rufus

Bing Crosby and David Bowie's Little Drummer Boy always gives me shivers. Didn't know until reading yesterday's Washington Post that Bowie's bit was written especially for him (at his dogged insistence), by a couple of Bing's TV show musical arrangers only an hour and a half before going to air.


Rufus Wainwright loves Christmas carols. There's at least half a dozen of them on YouTube and I've got a few more on tape. Here's the gay messiah hamming it up with French and Saunders.


And here's Rufus belting out Oh Holy Night at the Wainwright family Christmas show last week. Don't worry about the bad camera work. Rufus' performance is incredible.

The Nightwatchman's Year: Pt 3

Final of the three part series.

Sure, you're all bored of hearing about it but early in September big buddy, Adam Liddiard and I came third in a big advertising competition. Here's a picture of us holding our winning ad and here's a B&T article about our big day.

September is only about two things: Shorts weather and football. The Pies dudded out early in the finals but my other team, The Bloods won the VAFA A Grade premiership. Got drenched in cheap champagne in the rooms after the game. Brilliant day.

It was also a big month for Willie Nelson, Naomi Robson and Perry Farrell's disturbing looking wife.

In October we met the mad as a stick bloke who writes all the questions in Trivial Pursuit and an even more insane blogger who listened to We Built This City on repeat for 24 hours.

I gave a lot of advice to Nightwatchman readers in October. Most valuable was my Five Bogan Business Ventures To Quit Your Day Job For And Start Watching The Money Roll In! and how to deal with your Ipod's love of Steely Dan but I couldn't give any advice to Timo, the hapless rally driver.

A new world record scrabble score of 830 was made in November but I reckon the game was iffy. So was the result in the 2006 Oaks Day Myer Fashions On The Field National Final tm. I was sure Vicky Hislop of Wanthaggi was a dead cert!

Also notable were my ten things I'd rather do than endure another Australian Idol grand final, my local Family First freak, Noel Gallagher and my hate of all things 1980's.

But best of all, on November 24, 2006 I hit my creative zenith by designing a new cover for Virginia Woolf's classic novel, The Waves.

There is nothing more I can do.

Tagged!

Stan Lee in his tip top advertising blog, Brand DNA 'tagged' me yesterday.

Tagging is a bit like a blog-nerd's chain letter. He tells his readers about me and four others, I do the same for another five, those people do the same for five more and eventually the world implodes.

But first I gotta tell you five things you didn't already know about me.

Most of you already know that my dad invented the handbag. Yawn. But I bet you didn't know my grandfather on me mum's side chopped off one of his fingers to win a bet.

Today Paul is my favorite Beatle for his lovely singing in Blackbird. My favorite yesterday and the day before was George. I reckon the weekend's going to be a big one for Ringo.

My proudest musical moment was the night I smuggled a harmonica into the holding cells of the big Geelong cop shop to play an arse-quaking-ly sad version of Love In Vain.

If I drink more than one drink at the football I get nervous and irritable. I've been known to swear even.

I'd do almost anything right now to get a full time advertising gig. Yes, anything.

Now to point you to five o' the more interesting local blogs I'm reading presently. The ladies at Handmadelife, Miaow The Cat and Woozlewazzle lead far more interesting lives than my own. So do the fellas at Ett liv i exil and Corkintheocean. I'd include Geni's blog but it seems to have disappeared.

The Nightwatchman's Year: Pt 2

Second in a three part series....

Dreams coming true all over the place in May. I visit New York for the first time, win a dodgy framed plaque at a big scrabble tournament, see Paul Keating drinking in a pub and later proclaim writers' block is a bunch of arse.

May wasn't all about me. Nick Jones got interviewed on ABC TV by Michael Veitch, the Geelong Football Club choked, Stella Zanutta got stuck in her bathroom and a very cool frog took us to the Butterfly Ball.

All hilarity until Grant McLennan died.

Dear.

June was The Nightwatchman's biggest ever month. Thanks to being featured on Cute Overload, thousands from all over the world came to fawn over photos of little Rory Matthews and Chicky, his footballing alpaca. Rory himself even left comments on my footy site, Victoria Park. Incredible stuff.

Nick Barker got wise, Rex Hunt got exposed, Stevie Wonder got funky and Rale Rasic got emotional.

Yet more scrabble in July. This time things got a little steamier than usual in Rotorua when a friendly scrabs game degenerates to murder. Best bit of the story I reckon was my headline, 'It's Your Word Against Mine' Says Baseball Bat Scrabble Killer.

And it was in July when I prescribed Nicknaming's Golden Rules. Essential reading.

In August there was that awful war happening in Lebanon, Fidel Castro got real sick and the first elections were conducted in the Democratic Republic of Congo. But just like the Herald Sun, I ignored all that and instead watched every step in Chris Tarrant's sad demise.

Also in August, a bogue gentleman in Albury flipped his ute and kept driving, a nice lady punched another nice lady, a courageous reporter girl went wild, I bought a Nagina brand spice rack and wondered about Bill Grainger's mysteriously reducing hairline.

The Nightwatchman's Year: Pt 1

First in a three part series looking back on The Nightwatchman's 2006.

The year starts with a road trip to Sydney to see The Shins. The pub meals were cheap. I watched police break up a scrag fight and realised everybody wears t-shirts to gigs up there. Sydney was also the scene of Dave Rose's pun of the year, "Aerogard-less of what you may think...."

Also in January I posted brilliant photos of John Howard fondling his baton. Crikey ignored the story but did plug my tirade against Richard Woolcott.

February saw The Nightwatchman hit new depths in high taste by alerting readers to a Japanese breastfeeding cat. Best part of the story was the headline, Cat Nip Anyone?

Other great one liners like "When she spoke, it was like.... put another log on the fire," and "When she walked in it would give you a warm feeling, like a melted cheese sandwich," came from Pat Novak For Hire.

Lots of victories and celebration in March. Delta Goodrem breaks the world record for the amount of cliches she could pack into one song. Each of the 44 phrases contained in her Commonwealth Games anthem, Together We Are One is a cliche, an achievement unmatched in music history.

Melbourne celebrated yet another festival. I celebrated Mary Louise Parker and Crikey politics columnist, Christian Kerr name dropped me (oh, yes he did folks) for wondering if AWB's Iraq dealings could be just the tip of the iceberg when it comes with dealing with corrupt governments.

More AWB shennanigans in April with a spunky pic of Colonel Klink and a list of the people behind the 1757 I Know Nuffinks given to the inquiry and we discovered Alexander Downer's poetic flair.

It was also back in April when I was asked to be the priest guy at Magilla and Steph's wedding. I felt a little like Hugh Grant without the charm or um....words and stuff.... that day.

Even more impressive than my grace on the handsome couple's night o' nights is my dad's Moorabin Skindivers trophy for the 1962-63 season's Most Unusual Fish.

To celebrate the start of the footy season I visited Anthony Rocca's pizza dive and helpfully pointed out that watching Collingwood's kooky brand of footy was akin to watching The Dukes of Hazzard. Not even God or Mariah Carey's dog have an idea what I was on about.

And while in a helpful mood I told youse what records you should be digging and poured out everything I know on how to win at the marvellous game of Scrabble.

Chill A Beer In Only Two Minutes!

I drive prepared.

There's always a couple of fishing rods and all my tackle, a TW Sherrin and pump, a pro scrabble set and official scrabs dictionary, and at least a six pack of Melbourne Bitters in the boot of my duck.

Problem is I don't have a fridge.

Lucky for my summer Saab adventures, one of the Myth Busters blokes told Metafiler readers how to get their cans cold real quick.

About 20-25 minutes in a freezer. If you put it in a bucket of ice, that would halve that time. If you put water in that ice, it'd be cold (+- 5c) enough to drink in about 4-6 minutes, if you put salt in that water, you'd reduce the chill time to just over 2 minutes. Agitating the can in the water, rolling it around, reduces the chill time even more.

The fastest possible way is to grab a CO2 fire extinguisher and unload that sucker on the can.

Whatever you do, do NOT bury the can in sand, pour gasoline on the sand and set the sand on fire. That won't do anything.

Know Your Doctors

Dr. Kevin De Cock (pictured) is the director of the World Health Organization's Department of HIV/AIDS.

The Auer Of Power Is Coming!

The Posies' and yes, if you must, Big Star's Jon Auer is playing at The Northcote Social Club on February 18!

So Exciting.

Big Hair, Jangly Guitars And Pointy Shoes

Tracy. Tracy was angry. Why? Because the Gurus stole all her hair gel. She forgave drummer, James Baker because his mum promised to knit her a skiing jumper just like his.


Could you tell those girls with rifles for eyes to lock the shed up when they're finished?


When James Baker drummed for The Scientists he would only wear skivvies, much to his mother's chagrin. In this performance on Countdown, singer Kim Salmon insisted Baker go with the pink one.


James Baker's mum made Tex Perkins a Christmas hat for this Beasts of Bourbon clip. Baker got jealous and stole the hat and wears it for only a few seconds at the very end of the clip.


The greatest rock'n'roll clip ever made. Usual story. It's band meeting on a Tuesday night. Paisley clad band read tarot cards, look into crystal ball and then all of a sudden band appear in a meadow wearing different paisley but looking at the same crystal ball. Singer, Steve Kilby empties a cup of wine on his lap so obviously we need to flash to a graveyard acoustic guitar solo. Yes, an acoustic guitar solo in the home of acoustic guitar solos, the graveyard. And what the hey, it's a solar eclipse time so you know what that means. Of course. It's time for James Baker dressed as a knight in shining armor to gatecrash the band meeting. "I've come with pizza and a slab. Mum sends her best wishes!"

Five Bad Santas

Is this the most gruesome Santa since Silent Night Deadly Night 2?
No, this is.

If you recognize this Santa, please call Crime Stoppers on 1800 333000.

And if you recognize this Santa, please call La Porchetta on 9347 8906.

What was that, Santa? That over there by the haberdashery is a mistletoe, not a camel-toe!

Photos from a gallery of petrified American children sitting (or being physically restrained) on Santa's knee via Neatorama.

From The Mouths Of Dweebs

"Recession's probably a four letter word as far as the stock market is concerned."
One of Channel 9 late night news' ring-in business "analysts".

Bomber Gone

I was never going to forgive Kim Beazley on selling out on asylum seekers during the 2001 election, abandoning David Hicks and supporting our invasion of Iraq.

And I suspect many more voters would be the same.

Photo of Beazley enjoying happier days from the Broken Left Leg Blog.

Glenn Milne Loses It

Brilliant stuff from last night's Walkley Awards.

There's better quality albeit shorter footage at the SBS website.

A Very Wainwright Christmas

How good will this be?

The Wainwright Family and Friends evening at Carnegie Hall on December 13, 2006 has just announced some very special guests. We are thrilled to welcome Laurie Anderson, David Byrne, Jimmy Fallon, Linda Thompson, and Teddy Thompson to our Wainwright Christmas celebration. It will surely be a fun and festive evening. There may also be a few surprise guests stopping by...hope to see you all there!

Tickets are available at http://www.carnegiehall.org

Ten Things I'd Rather Do Than Endure Another Australian Idol Grand Final

Nice to see Channel Ten cut down the Australian Idol Final to a measly four hours. Most years the final's gone for six to seven hours so last night's bunch of sponsor generated filler seemed to fly.

Though I did shudder every time one of the hosts threatened to have another look at the the final two contestants' (I've already forgotten their names) JOURNEYS to get where they were blah blah yawn piddle pus yawn.....

Anyway, as promised ten things I'd rather do than endure another Australian Idol Grand Final™.

Lynch the Maybelline Style Team.

Visit Quambatook, Australia's home of the mighty sport of Tractor Pulling!

Read every single word of the Cole Inquiry's 2065 page report into AWB's dodgy work in Iraq. Twice.

Scalp, mince and make burgers out of the smarmy kids in the McDonalds Make Your Own Choice advertisements.

Interview Guy Sebastian about his new album. Everyone else has. I'm sure he's got something interesting to say.

See The Black Dahlia again. Maybe not.

Queue to see last year's Idol favorite, Dan England headline at The Empress. What? His gig was last Saturday night and I missed it? I'm so bad with dates.

Watch the grand final episode of Dancing With The Stars. Again, maybe not.

Apply for the job as the driver of Luna Park's big dipper. Yes, it's the only rollercoaster in the world with a driver. He just stands there in the middle caboose holding a big brake lever. No seat-belts. Nothing. And he doesn't care. In-fact, he looks real bored with his job. It's incredible.

Collect moths.

My Penguin

No I don't have a penguin anymore. Larry went to get some cigs and never came back. Happened a couple weeks ago. I'm over him anyway. Always hogged the TV remote. Kept it on Channel Seven all day in case Trapper John MD came back. I was sure it was on Channel Ten anyway. Larry never believed a word I said.

Farken penguins.

No.

The "my penguin" I refer to in the subject line of this posting refers to a new thing by Penguin Books where they're releasing a bunch of classics with blank front covers so you can design, draw or paint your own.

Above is my own effort at Virginia Woolf's The Waves.

What Does The Black Dahlia Smell Like?

Telemovie. That's what the Black Dahlia smells like.

Most Newspaper Websites' Blogs Suck

In his tedious blog piece on depression, When Depression is a Choice, The Age website's Sam De Brito introduces us to the "trendy depressive".

The Age's renovation expert, Alex May reckons:

"The real difference between men and women when it comes to home improvement is this: men think all big, ugly and obtrusive things should be on display - like the surfboard in the photograph above. Women think that everything else should be put in a cupboard. Or the garage. Or a self-storage cubicle 15km away."

And health blogger, Terry Robson tells both his readers about a US study which found that women "dress to impress" when ovulating.

His quip?

"Dare we say it, they dress for sex-cess."

These "bloggers" (and many many more) get paid for this.

I Hate The Eighties Too

Great comment from Idolator reader, drjimmy11.

I haven't set eyes on "regular" (non-Classic) VH1 in like 6 years, ever since "Behind the Music" became so obviously formulaic and a promotional vehicle for groups with a new album out.

this shit reminds me why:

"still Talkin' Bout Those Crazy '80s??"

how about:
"still can't shut the fuck up about the 80s"
"still manufacturing nostalagia about the 80s"
"still promoting cliches about the 80s that weren't even very funny in The Wedding Singer eight years ago"

Correct.

Talking up the 1980s is and always has been, tedious. I'd rather have my arse hair plucked by an irritable gohper than attend an 80s themed birthday party.

So bogue.

Laugh At Your Local Family First Candidate

For those who came in late, Family First are a new Australian political party run by a bunch of clueless and conservative god-botherers.

While they have the cash to run a candidate in every seat, they don't quite have the talent. Their federal senator, Steve Fielding has struggled with his power in difficult decisions like the recent vote on the new cross media laws. His reasoning behind passing the legislation was widely seen as wishy washy and inept.

The guff on my local candidate, Peter Lake's mail-out and website makes Fielding look impressive. Here's some highlights.

"I am a proud family man and father of three children living in Glen Waverley."

So your children live in Glen Waverley but where do YOU live? Doesn't the husband living away from the children contradict your party's definition of family?

"I am honoured to be the FAMILY FIRST Candidate for the seat of Scoresby."

Ah, you live down the road in Scoresby! Oh, and "Candidate" isn't a proper noun. Probably a good time for me to link to the party's wishy washy education policy.

Blah blah blah and a few more annoying grammatical errors later, Lake jumps in with his first attempt at a witty politician's turn of phrase....

"I will also be campaigning hard against tolls! Families are paying a high toll in mental health, a high toll in gambling and a high toll in drug use."

That hurt my mind. Let's read some of Lake's personal profile.

Proud family man. Married to Fiona with three children - Aged 11, 10 & 7.

With 36 mentions of the word "family" on your one page flier, you really didn't need to point out you're a "proud" family man again.

"I am passionate about family values (yawn). While proud of my work, my proudest acievement is my own family, my wife Fiona and my three kids."

He repeats the sentiment a few more times and then shoves his fist down our throats and gives our tonsils a good ol' fingering...

"I really believe the heroes of Australia are its mums and dads. They have the toughest job of all: raising children. And they deserve all the help and support they can get."

Enough! Tell us what you do for a crust.

26 year career in IT and telecommunications, vast experience in project management, confident public speaker, gifted (tenor) vocalist, published amateur astronomer.

Yes, you read it right. Not only is he a "confident public speaker", Peter Lake is a gifted (tenor) vocalist. Hey Peter, you should sing tenor. Ten or twenty miles away!

Look. Politics on all levels is a serious fucking deal. Parliament isn't a place for amateurs and simpletons. Let's keep it that way.

I'll leave you with Lake's resume answer to the question, What experience do I have in politics?

Absolutely none, and I think that's an advantage. I am a service delivery manager and that's what Scoresby families need - better services.

And better candidates.

Best Headline This Week

New Men's Fashion Line to Bring the Gay Back Into Metrosexual

From Gawker.

Look, I Was A Superhero

Highlights from Noel Gallagher's brilliant interview with The Guardian's Chris Salmon.

"I came from a shithole in Manchester, right, so it was all brilliant to me. Even touring in a transit van was better than being in my flat. Then when we got a deal, we were like: 'Bring it on!' I wanted the big hairdo, big shades, big car, big house, swimming pool, jet, drug habit, a mirrored top hat and a chimp. All of it."

"Life is a great thing, why shut yourself away from it? I can't understand people like Elton John and Robbie Williams going straight from their blacked-out limos to a restaurant. I stand in the queue at Waitrose. More rock stars should do that. Forget therapy, go to the supermarket and interact. The staff in my local Waitrose are really blase about me now. They'll be like, 'Him? Oh he's in here all the fucking time. And between me and you, he doesn't eat very well.'"

Who doesn't want a mirrored top hat and a chimp?

Fah Fah Fah Fah Fashion!

Even though I picked the quinellas in the Melbourne Cup and Cox Plate and the trifecta in The Oaks, I'm quite disappointed my bet didn't come through for the winner of this year's Oaks Day Myer Fashions On The Field National Final tm.

I really thought Vicky Hislop of Wonthaggi had a good chance to snatch it with her fetching embroidered blouse in the theme of Milton's Paradise Lost (the gory bits) race frock/baby shit brown micro-mini and puce Dr Scholl stilettos combination.

Her solar powered, Mikimoto pearl, decorated fascinator was not only a hit with the ladies at the Thaggers RSL Club but with the Channel Seven technicians who needed her to "go back a little... more, more, more... there that's it," for them to deal with interference caused by the eventual winner's precariously placed hemlines.

I'm free!

Kinky Didn't Win

Nightwatchman fave, Kinky Friedman managed to get over half a million votes (12%) in his bid to become Texas' first ever Jewish governor.

Kinky told his followers he was outspent by the winner, Republican Rick Perry, 15 to one.

Scrabble's New World Record: 830!

As you would all know, the Scrabble world is in shock after Massachusetts' Michael Cresta scored a world record 830 in a tournament last week.

While I wouldn't ever doubt the game taking place, as it was an officially sanctioned tournament, how the score mounted seems quite iffy.

According to world Scrabble's #1 writer and commentator (yes, I know but really you gotta read his life changing Scrabs book, Wordfreak) Stefan Fatsis,

the game has been heralded as the anagrammatic equivalent of Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point game in 1962 or Don Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series: a remarkable, wildly aberrational event with potential staying power. Cresta's 830 shattered a 13-year-old record, 770 points, which had been threatened only infrequently.

Here's my quibbles.

Cresta started two bingos (seven letter bonus 50 pointers) behind, 169-0 and then played FLATFISH, a triple triple for 239 points!

Then he passed three out of four goes, mucking about with the Q and the X while his competitor scored two more bingos.

While this was happening, another potential triple triple was being dutifully ignored by both players. I would have closed it.

But what happens? Oh, Cresta sees the triple triple and plays QUIXOTRY for 365 points!

Fatsis makes the point.

Technically, Cresta's strategy was unsound. Fishing for a once-in-a-lifetime play might be understandable in a casual game, where winning is less urgent. But in competitive play—even in a club setting, where there's less on the line than in a rated tournament—exchanging letters three times, as Cresta did, to enhance some combination of Q, U, I, and X is unorthodox at best, suicidal at worst. (The strategically correct move was to dump the cumbersome Q and move on.) In Scrabble, the player who waits for the miracle word usually loses. The implication: Cresta wasn't terribly worried about whether he won or lost.

It could only happen in America.

Why? There were a LOT of passes in the game. Some because in America if you fail on calling a challenge you lose your turn. That doesn't happen here.

Also in America ZA is a word!

My top score for an online game is 621, top tournament score is 447 and the Australian tournament record is Bob Jackman's 689.

Want some scrabble tips? Click here to read some I put together after being pulverized in club scrabble against some of the world's best players.

Obviously Cresta didn't read my tip on getting rid of the Q!

Note: Temporary Name Change

After being nominated as inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame, Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five have temporarily changed their name to Grandmaster Flash & the Quite Pleased, Actually Five.

Baby You Can Drive My Car

This kind of thing happened to The Flintstones all the time.

Found it on my alltime favorite Swedish/Australian blog, Ett Liv I Exil.

A Dud Root (Vegetable)

Grown by a proud Mrs Hilary Nellist of Bedford, this parsnip is Britain's ugliest vegetable.

Via Boing Boing again.

A Loyal Reader Writes

People often write to me for a little bit o' my wisdom. I do my best. Here's something I received earlier today.

Dear Nightwatchman,

My ipod shuffle keeps choosing a Roots Manuva song every second song for around 200 songs when I only have 2 albums and 5 or so extra songs by him.

Kind Regards,

Miss Nonplussed, Carlton North

Thanks for writing, Miss Nonplussed. The shuffle is an interesting and important topic for our times. Not a weekend bbq goes by these days without a discussion on the strange behaviors of our shuffles.

Is the shuffle really random?

Does the shuffle know more than it lets on to know?

If you're thinking of a certain someone and their fave song pops up, does it mean you're both bound to make thousands of babies together?

Geez, I hope not.

As I ponder your query, Miss Nonplussed, a jazzy number from Lalo Schifrin's Dirty Harry soundtrack pops up, followed by the lovely My Morning Jacket ode, Evelyn Is Not Real. Does that mean something? What does it mean? Evelyn? Are you there? Evelyn, are you really real?

The Complete Stax Volt Singles dominates my shuffle. Fair enough, it's a huge box set and I'm not complaining. That's what you get when you put boxes on your ipod.

But there is one record that really gives me the da-dits. The Tiger Lillies & The Kronos Quartet's tribute to Ed Gorey, The Gorey End. The guy's kooky falsetto voice in the Tiger Lillies gives me piles. Sat through a whole song just then.

It hurt.

So my answer to your question, Miss Nonplussed, if it was indeed a question is....

That in these lean times, it's better to be getting lots of Roots than no Roots at all.

Nurse!

A Warning

A Warning, originally uploaded by glennpeters.

Insightful political comment found last year on the fence of my favorite place on earth, Victoria Park.

It Seemed A Good Idea At The Time: Five Bogan Business Ventures To Quit Your Day Job For And Start Watching The Money Roll In!

Give a bogan an ABN number and what do you get?

Another fast cash scheme and further in debt!

Jumping Castles R Us!
Buy a jumping castle like this one on Ebay for a few hundred dollars, put an ad in the local papers and watch the money roll in. In only six months you will know the sunny streets of Narre Warren like you grew up there. But watch you don't bounce in on someone else's turf. I've heard the jumping castle runners in Hoppers Crossing will kneecap you and afterwards, politely send you an invoice for their kind efforts.

Sports Memorabilia Franchise
A wise woman from New York once said that men will leave you and so will women but always put your trust in Broadway memorabilia to keep its value. A wise man from Wantirna South also said that framed, autographed photos of Peter Brock are going through the roof, even though Brocky signed, "bloody everything" put in front of him.

Selling Baby Clothes on Ebay
It starts innocently. You put a couple of Country Road blouses on Ebay to see how they go. The pink one sells and the green bombs. Then a sister-in-law says she's going to throw some 'only slightly soiled', size 000 jumpsuits out. You salvage and wack 'em on Ebay. BINGO. 17 bids! You could make some serious money doing this (if you have 17 more sister-in-laws).

Virtual World Real Estate Baron
Move back home, buy a few clunky computers, lock yourself in the shed and survey the lands of Second Life for prime real estate where you can sub-divide and sell off to light deprived, Mum's pizza fed dweebs like yourself. Make sure you put aside a big block of land for your own home...oops, I meant CASTLE, where you can chill out, party or do business.

Imports/Wholesale
Go to China. Buy a pallet of tiger print mobile phone skins, prawn peelers, orgasmatrons, fake Gucci sunglasses or Nintaus brand mp3 players and set up a stall at Carribean Gardens. No need to get up early Sunday mornings to tend to the stall. Backpackers will do anything for cash in hand work.

Cash in hand = most bogan phrase ever.

Me Page Three In B&T

More gloating.

Click image for a readable version.

On So Many Levels...

Yum!

Anvil Workers Face Prosecution Over War Crimes

You may remember my postings (here and here) about West Australian mining company, Anvil's connection to a massacre in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Great news. According to Reuters:

A Congolese military court has called for three former employees of Australian mining company Anvil Mining to be tried for complicity in war crimes committed by government soldiers in 2004.

A court document, seen by Reuters, calls for the men to stand trial for facilitating crimes, including summary executions, rape and looting, alleged to have been committed by nine Congolese soldiers when they put down a small rebellion in Katanga province.

Anvil runs a nearby silver and copper mine and the company's trucks and airplanes were used by the army during the operation.

I hope this speeds up the Federal Police's Anvil investigation.

Here's some links.

The Four Corners' report, The Kilwa Incident first revealed Anvil's role in the massacre.

The NGO which employed Slater & Gordon to go after Anvil in Australia, Rights & Accountablity in Development (RAID) have a really good summary of what's happened since the Four Corners report.

A brief summary can be found at US legal news blog, Jurist.

Anvil have a website.

Celebrities Celebrities Celebrities

Scarlett Johansson is recording an album of Tom Waits covers.

Christopher Walken likes to cook, read magazines and watch television.

Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.

And Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

This blogger bloke spent 24 hours locked up behind a shop window listening to Starship's We Built This City on repeat.

Specs Are Lit!

Oh my fricken 'ell, Kevin Tiell's pinball photos are the most beautiful things I've seen in hours. That's including a visit to the NGV!

Only days ago I was reminiscing with Alex from the wonderfully named, The Sensational Alex Jarvis Band on how too much of our time at university was spent playing Firepower, Bride of Pinbot and The Addams Family.

The time wasn't wasted. I've got pretty good at it. Two dollars can keep me occupied at a dud gig in a dud pub waiting for a dud mate to arrive for at least 20 minutes!

Well done again to Boing Boing for pointing Tiell's work out to us.

The Snappers Are Back In Town

The Snappers Are Back In Town, originally uploaded by glennpeters.

Big night on Mordialloc Pier last night.

These are what I took home. Caught about five more of them, a huge banjo shark which I threw back and had a half hour fight with a manta ray.

Also lost line to a five kilo snapper.

Two nights ago a bloke pulled in a 6 kilo snapper there. Crazy stuff.

Big big night!

I can't wait to go back.

To Cut A Long Story Short I Lost My Mind

Juan Rodriguez has spent the past 16 years writing over 50,000 questions for the new versions of Trivial Pursuit.

In an incredibly written, gonzo piece for The The Montreal Mirror, he tells us about his pain.

Once you finish a Trivial Pursuit edition, massive relief descends. You want to clear the deck--the desk, tables, floor of scribbled paper, print-outs, books, magazines, newspapers and photocopies. Purge the brain of factoids and start real life again, get with some real writing, read a real book. Exit TP mode. Fini! Never again! No mas! (What two Spanish words did Roberto Duran utter when he quit his second fight with Sugar Ray Leonard? There you go again, not so easy to junk this monkey off your back.) Having cleansed yourself of trivial detritus, something strange and perverse happens (like the hand rising from the grave in Carrie). You see something in a magazine or on TV and say, "That would make a good question." But you're finished, you mutter, you don't need another damned question. At least not now. But what about later? No, you say, let it go, there are oodles of questions where that one came from. Give it a rest. But, but... this might be the right one! You'll forget it, it might not pop up again six or eight months down the long and winding road. (Meanwhile, during this inner agonized Q&A, you fear the question is disappearing into vapour right there in your demented mind.)

There's no escape. Throwing out magazines is bad luck, you never know when you're gonna need 'em. And I can't stop buying them anyway. (I try, but I can't. I'm always "on" for trivia.) The piles grow silently, inexorably. And: Calista Flockhart sez: "I am not anorexic" (sorta like Nixon's "I am not a crook"). Is it tabloid fodder, or Trivial Pursuit grist? (Calista's skinny today, Jennifer Lopez's butt tomorrow.) There's Cameron Diaz: what organic substance gave Cameron's coif that "look" in There's Something About Mary? Heh-heh. Well, lookee here: George Michael fined $910 for performing one-man "lewd act" in public rest room in Will Rogers Park in Beverly Hills. Too good to be true. Think: who was arrested for wanting his own sex? Hmm... There's Leonard Di Caprio: whose club-crawling entourage was dubbed "The Pussy Posse"? Wish there was an X-Rated Edition.

Wow.

Australia Nobbled In Nobel Prize Shame

In a hopeless effort by our scientists, physicists and doctors, not one Aussie has won either of the three Nobel Prizes awarded so far this week.

It would be Un-Australian to tell you about the winners because they are all Americans.

I'll leave that boring work to The New York Times.

Books For Looks

Penguin - The Case Of The Caretaker's Cat, originally uploaded by joe_kral_tpc.

A fellow named Joe Kral has a flicker set of the coolest Penguin book covers he could find.

Unfortunately no covers of Graham Greene's 1960's novels, so I've decided to scan one and send it to him.

I've always loved those covers. Most were illustrated by Paul Hogarth but I'm sure there was one done by Sidney Nolan.

Graham Greene would get cranky if his publisher stuffed up his book covers. After a few stuff ups, Penguin mostly employed Greene's fave illustrator, Paul Hogarth to do the covers at £35 a drawing.

Here's a nice little piece on Hogarth and Greene's long partnership.

Eagles Aren't My Favorite Bird Of Prey: I Prefer The Kestral.

Here's a few highlights from brilliant WCE blogger, Corkintheocean's grand final wrap.

"As we walk through the city, we discuss the finer points of how to pronounce Tadhg. I think it's either "Ty" or "Tarrrrrgh", which sounds very piratical. The sister-in-law (who's Irish and once went out with a Tadhg back in Ireland) says it's "Tyg". My brother says it's pronounced "cunt". This pronunciation is accepted by a 2-1 majority vote.

I'm surprised to discover that Irene Cara is still alive. And how much I hate Australian Idol. The missus texts from Perth to ask if she really saw Brian Mannix just then. I'm afraid so, love.

The last ten minutes were a blur. I recall a great Armstrong goal, a brilliant Chick smother and HuntAAA goal, and an arsey O’Keefe effort to bring the margin back to a point, but that’s about it. The clock hits 30min, someone says there’s under a minute left. I’m chewing sizeable wads of paper out of the top of my $13 AFL Record. My brother tells me after the game that at this point, he was seriously fighting the urge to throw up."

I Can't Take No More

Irene Cara is singing her 80's hit, What A Feeling at the Grand Final.

Doesn't she look like Adam Goodes in this photo?

Why Is This Interesting?

Found this handy bit o' history on Wikipedia.

What was your favorite Yahtzee logo?

I like the first version.

The Bloods A-Grade Premiers!

Sunday was the greatest day in Old Haileybury's long history, winning it's first ever VAFA, A-Grade Grand Final.

I've been going to see the Bloods play with me mate, Brett and his dad, Richard since the mid 1980's. Brett and I even played a few games alongside each other for the club's Under 19s side. Brett's dad goal umpired those games.

Richard "Dicky" Metherall was a brilliant bloke. He played over 200 games for the Bloods and was club president for many years. The entire senior team and so many other club men and women attended his funeral. That day, three years ago and the game-days afterwards were torrid. Everyone loved Brett's dad.

A funny and passionate bastard, Richard loved his club, Collingwood and football back. When Collingwood were playing the 2002 Grand Final, Brett was tied up in a town somewhere in Italy. He called back home so somebody could play the televison commentary down the phone line. A minute into the last quarter, Brett's dad picks up the phone, turns down the TV volume and yells, "These idiots know bugger all. I'll commentate from now on." And he did. Better than Peter Landy and company I hear.

Now Dicky's club is delirious.


It was bloody exciting to be in the rooms, singing the song after the game. Lucky I was wearing a raincoat I tells you because it was raining champagne in there!

Such a good win to beat VAFA glamour side, Old Xavier by 23 points.



The stars turn out to the VAFA Grand Final. So I could get a little bit of his mojo wafting in the hard Elsternwick Park breeze, I had to spend a quarter downwind from Nathan Buckley (bloke in the grey). He was awful kind to any kid, old fella or wench wanting a chat, handshake or photo op. I was too nervous about the what was going onfield to approach.

Bucks loves sending text messages.

Go Bloods!

Free Willie!

"This week, Willie Nelson, whom Donald Rumsfeld calls the 'number two man in al-Qaeda' - was the victim of a pointless search that revealed he had with him a mere pound and a half of marijuana and a fifth of a pound of psychedelic mushrooms - or as Willie calls it, breakfast.

That's right, cops in Louisiana pulled over his tour bus and searched it based on probable cause, the probable cause being it contained Willie Nelson. The Fuzz then hassled Willie, demanded he cut his hair and shot Peter Fonda off his motorcycle. I mean, Louisiana, come on, your state was under water a year ago - if the man wants some of it for his bong, let him. Yes, he had mushrooms - he's a hundred year old hippie, they were growing in his hair."

From Bill Maher's blog which appears on The Huffington Post.

Don't Install Itunes Seven!

Installed the new version of Itunes on my PC yesterday.

It's terrible.

Every ten minutes or whenever you do something like open a new program or document, the music crackles with static because the new version takes up too much of the soundcard's memory processing. And I suspect it's slowing down all my other programs.

I ONLY WANT TO LISTEN TO MY OLD RICHARD HAWLEY ALBUMS DAMNAMMIT!

Because the new Itunes installed new firmware on my Ipod, there's no way to revert to the previous version (which worked beautifully).

I'm not the only one.

The Apple discussion board is being flooded with thousands of disgruntled people experiencing the same problem.

There's no way I'm installing the new version on my mac.

Hooray For Shorts Weather!

At least the last guy's about to put on a nice pair of shoes.

Shorts are brilliant but sandals disturb me.

I Am The Art That Perry Is Working On

Here's a photo of Perry Farrell and his wife, Etty, Shepard Fairley (the OBEY guy) and Don Everlast taken at Banksy's Los Angeles art launch.

What's with Perry Farrell's wife?

As a longtime lapsed Janes Addiction fan, I wasn't aware of this Etty lady. She looks extraordinary.

I had to find out more about the disturbing lookin' bombshell.

There's an interview with her at the Janes Addiction website.

Here's the best bits.

"Of all dance forms, I am most passionate about ballet. My favorite ballet is Swan Lake. Perry and I are in love with dancing The Tango, and Rhumba. Both dances are pure aphrodisiac for us."

"I am the art that Perry is working on."

"He was living the "sex, drugs and rock'n'roll" lifestyle, with a girl in LA, a girl in NYC, a girl in Miami, and a lot of drugs to go with them. I was a professional dancer, doing a job, being professional. Although he started persuing me from the beginning, it wasn't something I was interested in. I remember when he tried to talk to me, I couldn't understand what was coming out of his mouth and what he was looking at. It didn't matter really, because the next day, he couldn't remember any of it anyway."

Oh Perry!

Naomi Robson's Done It Again

According to the The Australian, Naomi Robson and her crew were planning to shoot a story on West Papuan cannibals before they were detained for jumping the border without the proper visa.

We may never learn if the cannibals were obese or annorexic or even if their huts were poorly constructed by dodgy builders.

How disappointing.

What sort of bras do cannibals wear?

Nice priorities Naomi.

Smuggle your way into West Papua and do a wank piece on cannibals.

A wasted opportunity when you could investigate the country's struggle with Indonesia and its violent tribal wars.

And there's lots of diamonds in West Papua. Enough for tribes to get really angry with each other.

Here's a picture from Reuter's Alertnet of what's happening right now in West Papua.



The caption....

An Indonesian priest prays next to the body of a Dani tribesman who was killed after a clash with Damal tribesmen in Kwanki Lama village near Timika in Indonesia's West Papua province on September 4, 2006. The fighting between the rival tribes has killed three people since Friday, police said on Monday.

Grant Thomas And His Curious Finger

Why is Grant Thomas pointing at his eye?

Is he trying to poke at it to extract a tear?

Has he a sty?

Conjunctivitis perhaps?

The World's Only Accepable Personalised Number Plate

As seen parked at the footy last week.

Naomi Robson's Steve Irwin Tribute

The lizard's on the dole.

Photo from Crikey's daily news thingy.

My First Big Advertising Award!

Me and Adam Liddiard came third in The Age and MADC's Creative Raw Awards on Friday.

We beat all the big agencies.

When he announced our award, Clemenger BBDO/Melbourne Chairman, Ron Mather described our tagline, If it's not Dodoni, it's just wet cheese, for Dodoni Feta Cheese as "the best in the competition".

Each of Melbourne's big advertising agencies sent in one or two of their young creative teams to compete in the one day competition.

It was the first advertising award Adam and I have entered since finishing AWARD School last month.

The winners were a team from Marmalade and our mates at Grey Worldwide came second.

Big thanks to Nick and Michael at Singleton, Ogilvy & Mather for letting us represent their agency on the day.

Photo from MADC's Flickr set and you can see all the ads here.

Bill Grainger's Mysterious Reducing Hair Trauma

Sydney celebrity chef, Bill Grainger disturbs me.

His books and cooking shows check out. Bit prancy but mostly easy to follow recipes. Saw him live at one of those cooking shows. He did scrambled eggs. Use cream, butter and a hot pan. Don't muck around. Fry eggs quick, flip and get the hell out. Good advice.

Nope, there's nothing wrong with Bills (his books and restaurants don't use an apostrophe) cooking.

It's Bills hair that winds me up.

Bills paranoid about balding. Pick up any of his books, look at the photos and I'll guarantee you won't see the top of his head. The shot is either from a strange upwards angle, from behind, in a strange light, far away or even cropped at the forehead, chopping off the top of his head altogether.

Watch his cooking shows and the same thing happens. He comes across onscreen as almost effete but sheesh, he must run his shoots with anger a la Monsieur Mick Malthouse.

"If you so much as show a teaspoon sized bit of my bald spot I will shove this spatula so far down your cakehole you'll be ordering porridge everyday until first day of cherry season!"

Aw Gee Thanks, Kids!

Almost 17,000 visitors have visited The Nightwatchman in the past 18 months.

Here's some amazing facts and figures about 2006.

42 per cent of Nightwatchman readers are return visitors (aw gee, thanks!)

914 people have visited The Nightwatchman over 100 times.

825 people have come only to see a picture of Mariah Carey having a bath with her dog.

81 people came only because, like me, they spelled Anton Newcombe's name incorrectly.

My busiest day was on June 16 when 745 people came to read about Rory Matthews and Chicky, his footballing alpaca.

My other blogs have received over 5,000 visitors in the last 18 months.

Ooh Spicy!

Ooh Spicy!, originally uploaded by glennpeters.

At last I got one!

I've been putting it off for years.

And look at its brand name!

On Beating Carlton

Um. I feel good. Don't care where they were on the ladder. We won the game and won the fight. I just feel good. Really good.

Now let's watch the original Up There Cazaly clip.

Hot Pies.

It Could Only Happen In Albury

Found this doozy in Albury Wodonga's Border Mail.

A couple of months ago, West Albury legend, Ben Sudano gets drunk and drives his ute over a steep embankment.

Amazingly, the car lands on its wheels after doing a COMPLETE BACKFLIP.

Then the self employed plumber keeps driving as if nothing happened.

Police watch the incredible feat, pull him up and ask if he'd been drinking.

"Heaps," Sudano replies.

All Hail The Toilet Flushing Cat!

Cat flushes toilet, waits for the tank to fill and flushes it again.

And again and again and again.

Hilarious.

Shakin' Not Blurred

Reckon you've got a steady hand? Check out this strangely soothing, car pinstriping footage.

I found it on Boing Boing. Best blog ever. Visit it daily and you won't need to come back here ever again.



And here's a ridiculously disturbing Shakin' Stevens video clip.

Bye Bye Bon Scott: The Exhibition

Big local rock fella, James Young was the bloke who bought Bon Scott's ex-wife Irene Thornton's collection of private letters and photo album earlier this year.

He's framed them and posted them at his ad agency's public cafe SEE for all of us to see.

Samples can be seen online at SEE's blog.

And here's a link to Patrick Donovan's (another huge ACDC fan) Age story about the exhibition.

Check it out at SEE, 25 Nott Street Port Melbourne, from 7.30am to 3.30pm Monday to Friday until Friday 29 September 2006.

All Hail The Lady Punch Video!

Have you seen the Lady Punch video yet?

I have.

At least 40 times.

What Do You Really Really Want?

I get annoyed with job ads wanting three people in one applicant.

Like this:

EXPERIENCED JOURNALIST REQUIRED

Skilled Headline Writer
Must be experienced journalist.
Skilled Headline Writer Must know Quark intimately.
Be acquainted with Photoshop.
Have keyboard speed of 60+ wpm.
Be super proficient with Apple platform.

What is it you really want? A good journalist, subeditor or a graphic artist? Or do you want an editorial assistant to type down dictation?

And when the employer hints at so many roles in one position you can only expect them to be tight arses who will pay their employees bugger all.

No wonder this employer seems to have a similar ad in Seek every couple of weeks.

A journalist who knows Quark intimately?

Eugh!

Lay Off Our Taz For Chris-Sakes!

I'm so sick of this obsessive bloodlust for Chris Tarrant right now. Even before last week's certain maritime themed nightclub incident, Taz was being blamed for everything from our so-so form to the war in Lebanon.

And it's getting much worse.

I woke Sunday morning drained by Saturday night's incredible game against Adelaide. It was intense, modern and intelligent football. As Kinky Friedman would say, the game was like Johnny Cash in 1958. Dangerous. Neither side gave anything inside their own backlines. Every kick and tackle so calculated. Not even livewires like DT and Didak could break free.

Well, that was the game I watched.

Not the Herald Sun's "Here's one we prepared earlier," front page headline teaser, FROM BAD TO WORSE: Another Shocking Night For Tarrant. Funny how there wasn't an article to go with the headline.

Visit my Collingwood footy blog, Victoria Park to read the rest of this diatribe. A highlight is when I call The Herald Sun's Mark Robinson's football analysis "atrocious, vindictive and amateurish."

Baby, Give Me A Kiss

"Joe Francis, the founder of the "Girls Gone Wild" empire, is humiliating me. He has my face pressed against the hood of a car, my arms twisted hard behind my back. He's pushing himself against me, shouting: "This is what they did to me in Panama City!"

It's after 3 a.m. and we're in a parking lot on the outskirts of Chicago. Electronic music is buzzing from the nightclub across the street, mixing easily with the laughter of the guys who are watching this, this me-pinned-and-helpless thing.

Francis isn't laughing.

He has turned on me, and I don't know why. He's going on and on about Panama City Beach, the spring break spot in northern Florida where Bay County sheriff's deputies arrested him three years ago on charges of racketeering, drug trafficking and promoting the sexual performance of a child. As he yells, I wonder if this is a flashback, or if he's punishing me for being the only blond in sight who's not wearing a thong. This much is certain: He's got at least 80 pounds on me and I'm thinking he's about to break my left arm. My eyes start to stream tears.

This is not what I anticipated when I signed up for a tour of Joe Francis' world. I've been with him nonstop since early afternoon, listening as he teases employees, flying on his private jet, eating fast food and watching young women hurl themselves against his 6-foot-2-inch frame, declaring, "We want to go wild!"

From a zinger of an article by Claire Hoffman in the Los Angeles Times about scumbag soft-porn king, Joe Francis.

I follow Francis and his bodyguard through the crowd to find Kaitlyn Bultema. She's dancing on a podium and leaps off at the sight of Francis. She's wearing a skirt-and-shirt ensemble that exposes her stomach, most of her breasts and much of her bottom. I ask her why she wants to appear on "Girls Gone Wild" and she looks me in the eye and says, "I want everybody to see me because I'm hot."

It's then that it hits me: This is so much bigger than Francis. In a culture where cheap and portable video technology lets everyone play at stardom, and where America's voyeuristic appetite for reality television seems insatiable, teenagers, like the ones in this club, see cameras as validation. "Most guys want to have sex with me and maybe I could meet one new guy, but if I get filmed everyone could see me," Bultema says. "If you do this, you might get noticed by somebodyÂ?to be an actress or a model."

I ask her why she wants to get noticed. "You want people to say, 'Hey, I saw you.' Everybody wants to be famous in some way. Getting famous will get me anything I want. If I walk into somebody's house and said, 'Give me this,' I could have it."

It gets horrifyingly worse.

An excellent article to print out and read during the ads on Idol tonight.

I found it in Boing Boing.

Middle Park Beats Middle East As Front Page News

There's an awful war in Lebanon, Fidel Castro's on his deathbed and the first elections have just been conducted in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

What does the Herald Sun run with on their front page?

The Chris Tarrant and Ben Johnson pub brawl story.

It also takes up the back page and pages 2, 92 and 93.

Terrific.

At least in the page two story, Brawl Ends A Glitzy Night a witness introduced readers to a charming new subculture.

Ocean Blue has developed a strong following among footballers since opening this year, taking over from the Beach on Beaconsfield Pde as a destination of choice.

"It's full of inner-city CUBs (cashed-up bogans)," one Middle Park local told the Herald Sun.

Pot kettle black, anyone?

Kooky Brilliance Straight Out Of Lebanon

One little bit Sloan and ten thousand big bits Freddy Mercury, Lebanese powerpop wunderkind, Mika is going to be huge.

The first two songs on his myspace page are dainty, rocking and fabulous.

The third stinks.

Nicknaming's Golden Rules

George Bush is crap at remembering people's names so he gives everybody he meets and works with nicknames. He calls his senior advisor, Karl Rove the cutesy name, Turd Blossom.

I like nicknames. I like using them. I like making them up. But there are some golden rules you must abide by if you don't want to ever be laughed out of the stadium.

The Golden Rule: DO NOT EVER make up your own nickname.
It could be the most stupid, daggy, embarrassing, pathetic and sad thing you could ever do. Making up nicknames is your mates' job. Your mates haven't given you a nickname? Go out and get yourself a new bunch of mates. Join a footy club. Do anything but make up your own nickname.

Hot Dogs made up his own nickname. Remember how much of a pathetic site it was to see him on the first night in the Big Brother house introducing himself to everyone? "Hi, I'm Hot Dogs!"

Nobody was listening. Nor should they.

Crispian Mills from 90's Brit Pop also-rans, Kula Shaker gave himself the name, The Flash. See, that's what happens if you call your son Crispian.

If you've been known under a nickname for years and you suddenly want to be known by your real first name. Bad luck.
Only way out of this is again, get another new bunch of mates. This time don't join a footy or cricket club. Try joining your local scrabble club. Old scrabs ladies don't use nicknames.

Do not infiltrate.
If there's something more annoying and pathetic than a bloke who gives himself a nickname is the same bloke who runs around the group using long used nicknames to a bunch of mates he's only known for a few hours. As much as a nickname is earned, the right to use someone else's alias in conversation is earned.

A good rule of thumb is to only call someone by their nickname when you know the story about how they came to earn it.

Learn everybody's real names.
Weddings can be embarrassing when you're trying to complement Dud Root's mum's efforts with the chicken wing and tomato casserole.

Introduce yourself with your own first name.
Not an essential rule. Merely a matter of taste and class.

Hi, I'm Glenn. But I've also answered to Peters, Glenny, Glennis, Gleenis, Stout, GP, Twenty, Nudge, Gwendoline and Dixie.

And a big hello to Jack, Skipper, Macca, Magilla, Cockwallet, Dicko, Methers, Dud Root, Bamen, Rudeboy, Ray, Carny, Freddy, Johnny Livewire and Squidge!

President Bush Gropes German Chancellor Merkel: The Footage

The Daily Show's on Foxtel! Here's Jon Stewart's frighteningly hilarious take on George Bush's grope on German Chancellor, Angela Merkel.

I've been replaying this spot all afternoon.

Incredible.

'It's Your Word Against Mine' Says Baseball Bat Scrabble Killer

From OddStuff New Zealand....

An argument during a game of scrabble led to the man being bashed at least 40 times with a baseball bat and stabbed five times in the back, a court has been told.

Brendon Tahau, 26, of Rotorua died after 10 violent minutes.

In the High Court at Rotorua a Rotorua pair admitted killing Mr Tahau. James Wharetakahia Hamiora, 22, unemployed, pleaded guilty to Mr Tahau's murder.

His associate Gabriel John Kingi, who turns 19 next week, pleaded guilty to manslaughter.

The court was told Mr Tahau had visited a friend on August 25 last year and they settled in for a night of scrabble.

Hamiora, Kingi and another man turned up at the house.

When Mr Tahau took exception to the way Hamiora was speaking to his friends, Hamiora held up a bullet and put a cigarette against it saying he was going to shoot a hole through the wall.

Mr Tahau told Hamiora not to disrespect his friend's house and the pair argued.

Hamiora got a silver aluminium baseball bat from his car and began bashing Mr Tahau. Kingi joined in, punching Mr Tahau.

Mr Tahau tried to get away, screaming at them "what is the matter? What is your problem?"

At this stage Hamiora stabbed Mr Tahau in the back at least five times while Kingi continued to punch him and hit him with the bat.

Mr Tahau had numerous injuries to his head, body and limbs and died a short time later as a result of a stab wound to his left lung.

Thanks to Nina, my Strange Shet Heppens In New Zealand Correspondent, for the tip!

Save Yourself For Kinky!

You may have read in Saturday's Good Weekend that former leader of The Texas Jewboys, hilarious crime writer and top mate of Wilie Nelson, Kinky Friedman is running as an independent to be the first jewish governor of Texas.

He's doing quite well. According to a Dallas Business Journal poll he's ahead of the nearest candidate by almost 20%.

Exciting stuff.

But I hope he doesn't stop with them gumshoe dick novels because Kinky's such a beautiful writer. Here's a bit I read today during lunch from his 1988 novel, When The Cat's Away.

"Funny the things you think about when your life hangs like a stray gray thread on Ratso's Hadassah Thrift Shop coat. Maybe it continues to cling there and you continue to live. Or maybe some well meaning, neurotic broad puts down her plastic cup of white wine at a SoHo gallery opening and says, 'Just a minute, Ratso, honey, you've got a thread hanging on your coat.' She picks off the thread and you die. The landlord finds a new tenant and raised the rent. The cat goes to the city pound. The girl in the peach-coloured dress calls, hears your voice still on the machine, leaves a message, and wonders why you never got back to her. Serves her right for waiting so damn long to call."

I urge my US readers to contribute to Kinky's campaign fund. Australians aren't allowed to contribute but we can buy a Kinky Talking Action Figure or some bumper stickers from his Campaign Store.

VOTE KINKY!