Plonker!

Ooh, I can't wait to get home and read my new Jim Thompson novel.

Ah, I hope it is as good a read as the one I have at home.

Oh, it is the one I have at home but with a different cover.

Um, I think I'm losing my mind.

Love Is The Rose And I Only Picked Seven

Writing his Real Footy series on how we watch footy in 2007, one of my fave writer blokes, John Harms, went to The Rose in Fitzroy to watch the freak locals watching the Collingwood v Brisbane game last Saturday night.

I was there too and we had a chat.

While I was at the bar, a local sidled up to me, to set me straight: "It's a f---en Richmond pub, mate. The publican brings out a big cup when Richmond wins. It gets passed around. You have to have a drink. He won't let you go home. It's the only time he brings it out." Then he corrected himself. "Oh yeah, and for buck's parties."

Yep, that was me.

Here's the link to the whole article. Read it and you'd swear you were there too.

Take Good Care Of The Poor Boys!

I've Got Me Sloan Ticket!

I'll be front, left, that bloke over there, rocking his head right orff!

Little known fact the song referenced in the headline of this post was written about another great Canadian and good mate of the band, Rufus Wainwright.

Corner Hotel, June 10.

Don't dare miss it.

Raimond, My Grand Father Struggles With Microphone Feedback

Romulus, My Father is a beautiful film.

Saw it at a special Readings preview at the Kino last night.

Afterwards Helen Garner interviewed Raimond Gaita, the author of the sad memoir the film is based on.

Their chat was like the film's imaginary ninth sequel where the little boy grows up to be a famous old philosopher/writer/ponderer who struggles with microphone feedback while speaking at literary functions.

Helen Garner however, had no problems with feedback.

She's a pro.

And I want to be her when I grow up.

Got home to see Margaret give it 4 stars and David, a begrudging 3.

By the way, Eric Bana was brilliant as Romulus and Kodi Smit-McPhee was extraordinary as the young Raimond Gaita.

Which leads to my favorite bit of Garner and Gaita's post movie discussion.

Garner: "Kodi Smit-McPhee was incredible in the role. Where on earth did they find him?"

Gaita: "Craigieburn."

Go see it.

Opens May 31st.

Dirty Bogues Gave Me This Headache

Fricken tradies.

Dirty dirty bogues the lot of ‘em. Especially the farkwits who woke me at 7am this morning to knock down the house two doors down from mine.

Mr Nightwatchman! Surely not all our fine citizens in the trades are….ahem… how you so finely put it, “dirty bogues”.

They are mate. And I’ll tell you why. One of the great measures of how bogue you are is how much you talk about how early you get up in the mornings.

“I get up at five so I can leave early and beat the traffic in the mornings!”

“No, I didn’t watch Foreign Corespondent last night. I’m usually out like a light by nine!”

What a load of shit.

Stop waking me up in the morning with your MIX 101 and heavy machinery and I will start to accept youse as the family loving, long time listener, first time callers you really are.

And now I look out my window to see a bunch of them standing around, smoking dirty Horizons and talking about their wives’ skin conditions and how pissed off that their kids' Auskick starting at 9.30am really stuffs around with their Saturdays.

Surely that could have been done at seven?

The NW's Lost Idol Audition Tape

The corpse paint worked a treat!

Austrian Idol. Thanks for asking.

I Poodle Spell On You

Found this little bit o' magic while looking for a photo of Witchy Poo.

Shazaam!

NW's Footy Comeback Dream Shattered

Another torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament has ripped apart my dream to return to amateur football this year (and maybe again).

I was due to return to my beloved Bloods reserve grade team this Saturday but no, instead I will be going on a big bike ride to get ready for yet another fricken knee reconstruction.

I ran and rode so many kilometers, did hundreds of sit-ups and even mucked about with weights in the preseason only to get my ACL ripped while paying for a ticket on a tram.

Gutted.

My notoriously bad luck is starting to get dangerous. Stay the hell away from me if you're scared of black cats, ladders and unlucky underpants.