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.