Thearley

Hamburg: We all live in a yellow submarine...

2007-04-13T23:31:00.000+09:30

"Get back! Get back to the place where you once belonged...." or words to that effect were amongst many other lyrics that John and Paul were famed for singing. And I have done just that, last Thursday I returned to the UK from Hamburg bringing my brief German adventure to a close.

Liverpool may be primarily credited with producing the Beatles, but to a considerable extent it was Hamburg that nutured the band's talents (certainly during their early years). Hamburg's paralells with Liverpool are uncanny; just as in Liverpool you can visit the Cavern Club, so too in Hamburg you can visit the bar in the red light district of St. Pauli where many of the Beatles' first gigs were staged. Furthermore, just as Liverpool is one of Britain's principle ports located on a major river (the Mersey), so too is Hamburg a major riverbank port (on the Elbe); perhaps it was the similarities that first drew the Beatles here? Alternatively, perhaps it was the reputation of the red light Reeperbahn in St. Pauli that attracted them. I took a walk through the notorious district, apparently only second to Amsterdam's (in quality?, seediness?, or what??), and had a hard time shaking off all the 'ladies of the night'- they really are quite persistent! Eventually I made it through the gauntlet and settled in for the Man Utd vs Roma Champions League fixture at an Irish pub. And boy, was I glad I did!!! 7-1!!!!! It was almost enough to make me forget the shame of Adelaide United's A-League final debacle.

My seafaring prowess is no secret, as any of my crew who joined me on my epic voyage up the mighty Murray in 2004 can attest. In Hamburg I could not resist recreating a little bit of movie magic by hiring a row boat to trek down the mighty Elbe in much the same way as two of the more successful escapees in 'The Great Escape' do in the closing scenes. I too rowed past and beneath the tilting masts of giant dockside cranes towards the open seas and freedom!!! Unfortunately for me, I was limited insofar as I had only hired the craft for an hour and after about 20 minutes I got caught in the wake of a passing container ship and almost capsized. Yet, my nautical know-how saw me through and whilst I didn't make it to the North Sea I did at least make it back to dry land. Since the war, Hamburg has developed into one of Germany's (and Europe's) more cosmopolitan and permissive cities as the heaving red light district illustrates. It is appropriate therefore that any visitor should visit the Museum of Erotic Art. Whilst I feared (or hoped??!!) that much of it would be crude porn, I was pleasantly suprised to find a degree of sophistication employed in dealing with difficult subjects. Much of the material was actually quite good, demonstrating an artistic talent, but other stuff was less impressive, bizzare or just disturbing.

The remainder of my three days in Hamburg I spent wandering the city centre or following the numerous canals between the old warehouses down by the riverside. Whilst it is a beautiful city, well worth a look, it doesn't really measure up to either Berlin or Munich and not much else of note happened during my time here. However, as a footnote, it should be recorded that in Hamburg I sampled my first water pipe (orange flavour). Very enjoyable and I'd like to purchase one of these for my own enjoyment in Adelaide, anyone know where I can get one?

Ich bin ein Berliner!

2007-04-10T23:33:00.000+09:30

Ah, JFK's famous words can still extract a giggle from any German when muttered by some ignorant foreigner. But let's face it the Germans haven't much of a sense of humour.

Yesterday I moved on from Berlin to Hamburg, so it is now time to recount my time in the German capital. I was in Berlin for the four days of Easter so it was a bit quieter than it might have been, but nonetheless it was still heaving with tourists and the nightlife I sampled didn't show any sign that it had slowed for any observation of religiousity.

Friday night I picked an area and club at random (I didn't fancy relying on lonely planet), which proved quite a shrewd move on my part since it was so good I almost saw sunrise. Things turned sour the following morning however when I woke to find my bag and it's contents (ie my clothes) soaking wet. It seems that one of the girls in my dorm had come back drunk during the night at some point, opened a bottle of water and spilt it all over my stuff. The evidence was all about for me to see: wasted girl asleep upside-down and still in party rags, half empty bottle of water by her bed (bottle top removed), bottle top half way across floor. I rest my case your honour. That is certainly the version I prefer to believe, the alternative of course is that some git took a piss in my bag. I washed all wet garments just in case.

The whole washing and drying routine consumed time on Saturday, but eventually I did get out to see some of the sights later on Saturday and Sunday. Berlin is particularly fascinating since it has been at the centre of so much recent history. Many cities have claims to historic events and people, but few could claim as much important history as Berlin during the 20th century. Inevitably much of what there is to see is connected to the war or division of the city during the Cold War; I did the whole holocaust memorial and Jewish museum thing, went up to the top of the Reichstag, had a look around Check-point Charlie and checked out the remaining stretches of the Berlin wall.

Just for a change, or to get away from all the war stuff and blokes flogging Soviet fuzzy hats (you actually bought one of these didn't you Nick?), I went to the museum for the Bauhaus design school (who I believe have an outlet on Rundle st?). This is quite interesting, but even there they have a section dedicated to how the war and Third Reich adversely affected them.

Well, not much else to report. Given Hamburg's location on the Elbe river and it's reputation as one of Europe's largest and most important ports (second only to Rotterdam I think?) combined with my justly reknowned nautical prowess, many more adventures should ensue. I return to the UK on Thursday so will update on Hamburg from there.

Munich: Surf's Up

2007-04-06T07:23:00.000+09:30

I have in the last few hours arrived in Berlin from Munich, and before embarking on anymore adventures I should probably keep my faithful readers abreast of those events that occurred in the Bavarian city.

As I wrote in my last post, Jens did take me to a bar (although not filthy or crowded with buxom Bavarian babes) and we watched the AC Milan vs Bayern Munich clash together. Bayern were arguably lucky and unlucky in equal measures; both AC Milan goals (especially the penalty) were dubious but then Bayern were lucky to equalise both times. We watched the game with a friend of Jens named Björn, who got utterly bladdered.

Whilst in Munich I did the typical touristy things around the city centre, but what was of particular interest was the Dachau concentration camp site just outside of Munich. I had only intended to spend a morning looking around the site, but given the time taken to get there and back and then the actual size of the site and exhibition I ended up spending a whole day there. Unlike a friend (who shall remain nameless), I was not tempted to whistle the 'Great Escape' theme tune.

Those of you familiar with German geography will know that Munich is not anywhere near the sea. But I can tell you that I saw surfing in Munich, and as soon as I can work out how to upload a photo then I will do so for all of you. On a small river in the centre of Munich a few die-hard adrenaline junkies spend everyday surfing a single wave that is created by some sort of change in depth or ridge at the bottom of the river. Apparently two people died doing this last year, and despite signs forbidding swimming and surfing it still goes on and the police do not try too hard to stop it. It attracts a fair crowd (with good reason) on the bridge passing above the river.

So whilst by day I fulfilled the role of foreign tourist, by night I did as all good Germans do and passed the time in one of the many cavernous beer halls. I didn't get to all the big ones, but I am proud to say I had a few steins in at least 3 of the main halls and gardens.

Finally, today rather than pay close to €100 for a train from Munich to Berlin I hitched a ride with a guy who regularly drives between the two cities and allows people to pay to occupy the spare seats. It cost me a fraction of the price (€25), and only took marginally longer because of the traffic. I must now turn in for the night as I am quite tired, but will write again soon about Berlin at Easter.

Ps. Number of times Lonely Planet has lied to me (including the time mentioned in previous post): 2 (Latest instance concerns location of fictional hostel, and please note that my edition is March 2007)

Don't mention the war...

2007-04-03T19:28:00.000+09:30

... I did, but I think I got away with it!

I said that I would update this blog with my European adventure, and so here goes.

Unfortunately I must start with some bad news. Having come to the other side of the world at great expense and inconvenience in order to put myself under scrutiny of the UK's Army Officer Selection Board, I failed. I went down to Wiltshire last week from Tuesday through until Friday and took part in various outdoor obstacle courses, group command tasks, written exams and oral discussion sessions. I thought I had done all that I could, but at the end of the week I simply did not measure up to the army's expectations. I am told that candidates often fail the first time, but then gain entry at a second attempt, but still I am quite disappointed and 2007 seems to be rapidly turning into a year of disappointments and failures (in contrast to 2006, which for me was quite a good year). Perhaps 2007 is to be my annus horribilus (as the Queen referred to 1992)?

Anyway, I now find myself in the country that gave the world Mercedes Benz, Heidi Klum, Angela Merkel, Volkswagen and the most despotic tyrant the world has ever known. I met my pal Jens in Munich yesterday and I am to stay with him for three nights before moving on to Berlin. Jens is to take me tonight to watch the Bayern Munich vs AC Milan game in a filthy German beer hall crowded with buxom Bavarian babes, so that may cheer me up after my latest disappointment!!

Anyway, not much more to report. See you all soon.

Ps. Number of times Lonely Planet has failed me so far: 1 (trying to find non-existent Internet cafe)

Thearley rejects calls to kill-off blog

2007-03-20T08:10:00.000+10:30

In recent time many have suggested that just as the farmer takes his blind old incontinent sheep dog out to the barn with a trusty double-barrelled and blows the mother away, this blog ought to suffer a similar fate. Their reasoning is that this blog is rarely updated and when it is the topics covered are seldom relevant. Yet with Thearley's latest adventures this blog is set to be given a new lease on life.

I travel today to the land of my birth to go before the Army Officer Selection Board (AOSB), which consists of a gruelling three-and-a-half day assessment course that can be best described as a boot camp. Applicants who successfully complete the course are then eligible to enter the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. Upon completing this 'boot camp' I will travel to Munich to stay with Jens, my friend I met in Chile. Those wishing to learn more about Jens (or even see a photo) should consult this blog's posts for the first half of 2005 when I was in Chile. I will then make my way from Munich up through Germany, possibly across to Holland and Belgium before returning to the UK in order to return to Oz, arriving on 17th April.

This Blog will now follow these adventures.

NEW ADVENTURE COMING SOON

Advice to Campbelltown Council

2006-11-06T19:39:00.000+10:30

I am relatively lucky in the sense that I live quite close by to the University of South Australia's Magill campus. Whenever the need arises for me to journey there in order to collect some books or to knock out the odd thesis, then all I need do is take a short 10 minute stroll. This is arguably quite convenient, especially given that many who trek there have to do so by multiple buses or spend much time stuck in traffic if they drive.

However, upon arriving at the campus it is almost always necessary that I comb my hair. On my 10 minute journey my hair seems to gather various bits of interesting flora. About a week or so ago I bumped into Emil in the library and he had to help me pick gum nuts and petals from my hair. I dare say it was a scene reminiscent of a nature documentary when you see a family of apes going through each other's hair for lice or edible grubs. Furthermore, upon my arrival this evening I have so far detected 1 gum nut and 2 blossoming buds.

I have only one wish: would the Campbelltown council please invest more money in adequately pruning rogue plant life that conspires to infest innocent pedestrians' hair as this is quite clearly a problem in our municipality and given that we have recently had a council election I think it is high time this most pressing issue is addressed.

By the way, Thesis=finished, 2 items of coursework remain, more comprehensive post to follow completion of academic activities.

World Cup Legacy? A-League odyssey

2006-07-10T20:19:00.000+09:30

Long overdue blog: I started this the day of the WC final and have only just seen fit to finish and publish it... profuse apologies to the diehard Thearle Army.

We have traversed the breach; that seemingly unconquerable space that exists between last season and the next season. In England it is known as the cricket season, here in Oz.... well nobody really notices. The point is though that there is for a period of at least a month, and often longer depending on whether it is a world cup or Euro championship year, a void in which no real football is played.

The 2006 World Cup came to a close over a month ago in a fashion that cannot quite be described as breathtaking, nor spectacular, but rather perplexing and with perhaps a touch of disappointment. Italy have without doubt been one of the better sides of the tournament, but their performance and victory in the final was neither glorious nor deserved.

Their route to the final included only just overcoming minnows Australia, they had arguably the easiest of the quarter finals, and they were less than impressive against the yankees. On the other hand they did fend off an impressive Germany, and accounted for the Czechs who were touted before the tournament as potential winners.

However, the point is that Italy did not deserve to win the tournament in the same way that other champions have deserved to win it in the past. But then again, none of the teams this time around really deserved to win it. Sure there were glimmers of brilliance, but no one team stood out as consistently better than the rest and thus deserving of the title "Champions of the World". In sum, it was a mediocre tournament which will bequeath no real legacy. A case in point: some of the younger players earmarked for future brilliance were truly dismal. For instance, Wayne Rooney although coming back from injury and playing in a fucked up formation only succeeded in making himself look more and more like an alcoholic Shrek. With regards to Cristiano Ronaldo, I like to apply the Shane Warne theory: that is, although he is undoubtedly a gifted player, if he couldn't play then what would he do? He would be one of those vicious skin heads you see out on a Friday night spitting and swearing like there is no tomorrow. The only talent he has is football, and even that he couldn't adequately display in Germany, the only exhibition he made was of his un-sportsman-like, vicious streak which he demonstrates through his continued diving. I truly hate him.

With regards to Australia's performance, it was probably one of the only positives that I can think of that came out of the tournament. More importantly though it has put Australia onto a steep learning curve. Australian fans will soon come to the realisation that World Cups are more about disappointment than jubilation- believe me I am an England fan, I know!!! Only one team can ever win and although Australia may do that some day, I can't imagine that it will be in the near future.

Anyway, since the World Cup ended there hasn't really been any regular football to talk of. But now the premier league has begun and this coming weekend the A-League (mark 2) will begin. What can the AUFC diehards expect this year we might ask, given their form in the pre-season cup, would it be too much to ask for a championship? Doubtless Veart and Qu will dissapoint, Aloisi will whinge, Van Condom will be shit as will Cornflake. What of Dodd? given his recent form and prowess in the Australia shirt then we have reason to hope that he may bring some light to the gloom that so often shrouds Hindmarsh. The point is though that although AUFC so often look very amateur, the opposition are quite often not alot better. We can therefore expect the red army to be in the finals. The odyssey begins again, all aboard with Kossie... destination glory.

Van Halen heralds Australia's birth into the second round

2006-06-23T08:00:00.000+09:30

There was a beautiful women to one side, and to the other some git trying to steal my wallet. I was wearing a dress made out of Big Bird (of Sesame Street fame) feathers and standing in the foyer of the Casino. Incensed by the breach of my personal space and more importantly the confines of my wallet I start laying into the aforementioned git in an attempt to knock all his teeth out. All of a sudden though, Van Halen's "Jump" starts to ring out all around me. This is odd I think, I pause momentarily from my amateur dentistry, Van Halen has never been the soundtrack to my dreams. Then I wake up, dream over, it is 3.30am and my phone is ringing- Van Halen is my ringtone.

A definitely more awake and possibly slightly inebriated Emil is on the other end of the line: "are you coming down to the Hood to watch the game?" It is of course the morning of Australia's clash with Croatia, and although I have planned to get up (in another 45 minutes, NOT at 3.30am) I have to answer in the negative. I have trouble enough, dragging myself from my pit on cold mornings before even the crack of dawn, it is a little far fetched to imagine me getting myself to the Hood at that time.

I do get up to watch the game, in front of a roaring fire with Ol' Pa. And those of you who also saw the game will know it was well worth the effort- I won't go into the details. The result of course was to Australia's benefit and they will now face the Azzuri in the second round. Although some of the Football wasn't particularly pretty, there was definitely ample amusement. Firstly the Croatian coach on the touchline looked as though he would have a coronary at any moment, which provided plenty of chuckles. And then, Graham Poll, the referee made a complete tit of himself. He effectively sent off the same Croatian player twice, liberally distributed bookings and the occasional red card, and yet when physically manhandled by Croatian players took no action. To be honest though, Graham Poll has been making a cock up of the job for a long time; it is well known that Premiership games under his direction regularly turn into an exhibition of his ego rather than any sort of Footballing prowess.

One of the more interesting consequences of this morning's result is that Australia will now face Italy. Just as in recent days Croatian-Australians have faced a dilemma over who to support, no doubt the substantial Italian community in Adelaide will experience similar problems. It will be amusing, to say the least, to see all those so-called 'Italians' who have never been to the country, speak very little if any of the language and sound more like Crocodile Dundee than Pavarotti, claiming to be Italian and supporting the likes of Totti and that baffoon Buffon.

Regardless of tensions off the pitch though, it promises to be an exciting clash and I can say this time that I will be down the Hood (given the game will be at a more godly hour) to cheer on the green and gold.

The profits on the bus go round and round...(or is it 'up, up and up'?)

2006-06-16T21:16:00.000+09:30

This blog may disappoint many of you given that we are almost mid way through the World Cup, but I am sorry to say it has nothing to do with Football. Rather I turn my attention to generally all-round-good-guy Mike Rann. Mike is a particular favorite of mine but recent decisions, or to be more precise one decision in particular, has rubbed me up the wrong way.

Mike Rann is of good stock (English), and although his eyes are definitely a bit fucked giving him a sort of Car Salesman image, he is the sort of guy that I have always felt some degree of admiration for. In particular his shake up of the legal profession, vis a vis overruling the DPP and the parole board may on first appearances seem to be populist in policy orientation, but a walk down Rundle Mall any day of the week is testament to the fact that there are a lot of weirdos in this town and they ought to be locked up and then left there.

However my rant here shall not concern his many successes, but rather his most recent gaff. You may have heard over the past few days of plans to hike up public transport costs by 10%; the alledged justification is rising petrol costs. Adelaide's public transport system is to be quite honest a shameful shambles, and already the cost is by no means justified by the quality or frequency of service- we are definitely in no need of a price hike.

I am a frequent commuter on the 106 which takes one on a rather mundane run down Magill Road and into town along North Terrace and onto Pulteney Street. It is widely accepted that users of public transport do so in order to be at a certain place at a certain time. This is however a logic that seems to have escaped the brainstrust at TorrensTransit; all too often I am left stranded at stop 14 when the scheduled bus arrives very late (ie. just in front of the next scheduled bus) or fails to materialise at all. Assuming one does actually manage to get on a bus, then one can expect to be greeted by some miserable sod in the guise of a bus driver, with a frown and glare of contempt. I mean if they don't want to be bus drivers then nobody's holding a gun to their head, as my wise old Grandfather says: If your going to do a job (no matter what it is) then do it well. I don't think it is too much to expect a courteous hello occasionally, rather than the sort of death stare that I imagine the Nazis reserved for their most hated Jews.

Coming home is not much better, it is not uncommon to travel home with 2 or even 3 106 buses following each other! Really! The people at TorrensTransit really have their finger on the pulse so far as efficieny is concerned.

My chief point is that until something is done about the shambolic state of the transport system in this city, then no price increase is justified. There is very little coordination of the services, that is to say that very few of the buses connect easily with the trains or the tram or other buses for that matter. Mike's not doing a bad job, but this is definitely a gaff of monumental proportions.

Public announcement of the impending and summary public execution of Frank Farina

2006-04-02T12:46:00.000+09:30

Dear all please forgive my somewhat tardy 'blogging' recently, but now that I have something to ply you with I shall do so:

Please visit the below link to discover how Frank Farina has most recently disgraced himself:
http://www2.sbs.com.au/opinions/index.php3?id=69086

How anyone can argue that SBS don't deserve the rights to the World Cup is beyond me, they provide without a doubt the best football coverage in this country bar none. Your other pay-TV charlatans will charge you the earth just for the privilege of watching a game and then serve it up with a side offering of some dick like Robbie Slater.

Nah, give me SBS anyday; all power to Les, Andrew, Simon and Craig, they're true professionals, unlike Fucking Frank- an amatuer drama queen...... if only I had one bullet, it would be for you Frank.

The hunt for a quick buck resorts to animal cruelty

2005-12-20T13:54:00.000+10:30

Firstly, profuse apologies for not having written sooner; however what with Xmas/ New Year and my rather heavy workload I've had neither the time nor anything of significant interest to write about. However my recent excursion to the Oxford in North Adelaide has given me inspiration to put finger to keyboard for the greater good of society once again.

The issue of poker machines/computer games and Western society's inability to use them responsibly has been regularly recycled by the major sources of respectable current affairs such as Today Tonight and A Current Affair. So it is that given the longevity and degree of social conscience of my blog, that I will too examine the issue drawing primarily on my own recent experience.

Those readers who have ever attended an Adelaide United home fixture will no doubt agree with me that it is no occasion for the faint hearted. Although the ability to throw away the game all within the instance of one ill conceived and mis-directed Carl Veart foray into attack has in recent weeks been cast into doubt given the Reds' prolific form, it remains legendary. And so the recent fixture against Queensland was no different, despite the apparently comfortable 4-2 win glimmers of the inadequacy of old were there to tease the faithful. All left the ground relieved in light of the win, yet safe in the knowledge that should the need ever arise, the side for all South Australians will willingly deliver a complete implosion.

Such drama and tension tends to build up one's hunger and garner quite a thirst. It was then with light relief that my trusty side kick and I retired to the Oxford for a bite and a few pints of the amber fluid. I gorged happily on one of the mammoth schnitzels- I'm no schnitzel aficionado, but in my experience it was pretty good and I'd be grateful for a second opinion. Sufficiently stuffed I cast a curious eye over my surroundings, in such a manner that one does when one is contemplating muttering something profound: I burped. A few likely lads were huddled at the bar, over the far side a DJ plied his trade despite the apparent lack of recognition from the gathering crowd and the usual smattering of chicky babes mingled amongst increasing male glances. Finally I swung my gaze across the bar and to the near wall where a pinball machine stood idly alongside a clearly more popular 'game'.

This second 'game', surrounded by a happy crowd was the curiously named Big Buck Hunter: Call Of The Wild. Naturally enough, or perhaps in my naivety to all things vaguely technology orientated I thought initially that the game entailed the quite innocent hunting down of as many Buckys as possible and then clubbing them to death with cans and various other wares from Woolworths (I'd like to beat Bucky with a cucumber). I was, however horrified to discover that the basic aim of the game is to decimate the native fauna from a variety of areas of North American wilderness. Wielding an attached electronic shotgun, inebriated patrons are pitted against helpless deer and various other fauna (including ducks and chickens in one stage) in an effort to kill or maim as many of the poor dears (pun intended) as possible.

My revulsion was palpable, in a time when the content of such games is being widely debated and environmental issues concerning endangered species are (or should be) at the top of most Western national agendas, I was disgusted to find such a game that clearly some insensitive fool is profiting out of. This is I feel only one, and at that a very small, example of business profiting out of the continued environmental destruction of our planet. Of course it is happening all the time and I don't profess to be totally innocent (after all I drive a car that spews god-knows-what into the atmosphere), however if we are to make even a miniscule attempt to start clearing up the mess we've already made then I would urge all readers to boycott the Big Buck Hunter game at the Oxford in an attempt to save North American ecosystems.

Nb. If you can't contain your primitive cravings to inflict pain on some poor creature then pay Bucky a visit.

Total Football (Formerly titled: Shove your f*@#ing AFL up your f@$#ing arse sideways !!)

2005-11-18T16:35:00.000+10:30

What a week for Australian football and I am not talking about the egg shaped ball variety, rather the beautiful game that unites so many globally regardless of creed, colour or religion. Firstly, unless you've been living in a cave, you'll realise that Australia has qualified for the World Cup (world's largest sporting event bar none) for the first time since 1974. Secondly, closer to home Adelaide United have consolidated their place at the top of the A-League. And lastly, however certainly not leastly, the Iron Chefs vindicated this seasons hard work by lifting the Windsor Castle Division 3 title after a nail biting final.

This week's world cup qualifying tie between Australia and Uruguay should I feel go to show that on the world stage AFL pales into insignificance by comparison. Those of us who watched it on the TV will remember the atmosphere that resonated through our screens, then imagine actually being there as a few lucky friends and my old man were- I am sure in time they will grace us with there own comments corroborating my argument that there is no substitute to watching your country in such a life and death struggle of the beautiful game. There exists no paralell in AFL to this, quite simply AFL will never and cannot ever hope to emulate the kind of global appeal that football generates.

My chief beef is with dickbrains like Graham Cornes, who argues that the name Soccer should still be applied to the round ball game and Kevin Sheedy, who recently suggested that Melbournians should attend the "hybrid" (I use the term with a sufficiently mocking tone) international rules test rather than the Victory's home fixture against Adelaide United. Firstly Graham Cornes should get out of his car yard a little more often, and quite frankly the Advertiser ought to rebuke his weekly column because I know of few people who value "Cornesy's" opinion that much.

With regards to Kevin Sheedy, I'd say only this: in the sentiments of the great Liverpool manager Bill Shankly, football is not a case of life and death, it's more important than that. This is certainly a sentiment that Melbournians have come to understand, given (A) the large and vocal crowds that the Victory have drawn to Olympic park and (B) the huge crowd that gathered in Federation Square earier this week to watch Australia create history on the big screens. It is probably hopeless to think I can single handedly convert every Australian to the round ball game and of course sheer folly to prophesise the coming of AFL's death knell, however it is important to note this week in the evolutionary tale of Australian football and recognise that the 82, 000 strong crowd in Sydney and the countless millions nationwide that followed and watched the game couldn't give a monkey's toss what sporting bigots like Graham Cornes and Kevin Sheedy say, think or do. So far as I am concerned, such people can remain in their ivory towers whilst the enlightened majority bask in the glow of a new dawn in football for Australia.

Turning to other news; a season of dedication and perseverance paid off tonight for the Iron Chefs who emerged victorious from a close run final to hold aloft the Division 3 title. 1-0 down at half time, Thearley levelled for the yellow army after a goalkeeping error and the Chefs played out normal time for a draw. Golden goal extra time saw the Chefs dominate and Bucky Reitano snatched the winner a la bresciano. It should be noted however that it wasn't all plain sailing for the Chefs, initially scared by going a goal down as No Gary No contrived to steal the Chef's glory. To the Chef's credit though, they pushed harder and harder as a team; an effort that ultimately paid off. The team has truly come of age, the level of dedication amongst the players is demonstrative of the level of team bonding that has grown since the teams inception nigh on a year ago. The Chefs will be back next season the defend their crown and new members are always welcome.

As a closing note; Adelaide United vs Sydney FC, Sun 27/11, 4.30pm kickoff
Support your local side and the growth of the game, we should get our own little Red Army together and march on Hindmarsh. Anyone who wants to see Dwight Yorke of Aston Villa/Manchester United/Trinidad&Tobago fame let me know.

Observations from the Uni evening study sessions season '05

2005-11-08T21:19:00.000+10:30

Some observations from my now nightly ritual of going to the Magill campus to fry some brain cells in front of a computer screen in a vain effort to finish all my papers:

1. There is always a mob of Asians/wogs/people of middle eastern heritage hiding around a corner ready to come and occupy the computer suite that I have just set myself up in.

2. Once I am set up- with all books, journals, thermos flask of tea and the odd apple in place, the aforementioned mob descends upon the suite and occupies every computer around me.

3. Conversation in foreign language ensues.

4. A banquet is declared and the Magill vending machines are raped. Despite the signs prohibiting eating and drinking in the computer suites, the mob does so anyway.

5. Inbetween eating, drinking and talking various members of the mob wander about aimlessly from room to room so as to associate with sister-mobs who have decided to harrass some poor sod in another room.

6. The mob doesn't seem to do any work, which to me seems to make the whole expedition to Magill pointless. Presumably they fail- or I hope they do!

All for now.

Saucy Salsa

2005-10-05T20:58:00.000+09:30

Aren't I such a hooray-henry? I've found something to write about that won't bore the pants off of people who aren't particularly into my irreverent Iron Chefs match reports. Since the lack of particularly constructive suggestions (other than the penile extender man) in light of my previous post, I've again had to resort to tales from the romantic novel that is my relationship with a certain young Goddess.

This posting is almost a throwback to the days of yore; during my Chilean sojourn many of you may remember my somewhat failed bid to become the next big thing in Latin music, taking a number of Salsa dance lessons. Since my return to land of the long brown wasteland, my endeavors into the world of dance have been restricted to a brief fling with El Capitan and a pirouette with Bucky that saw his Pale Ale spiral through the air at Supermild (I am reliably informed that this instance of ultimate gayness has gone down in Supermild folklore).

Prior to meeting me (the greatest day of her life), the young Goddess was an avid dancer and she was I feel a little dissapointed to discover I had 2 left feet. Our early relationship was punctuated by instances of me propositioning the young lass with pleas to let me dance with her, however all too often I was scorned by a sharp turn of tongue. Whether it is my new found latin charm or some other admirable trait, the Goddess has recently become much more receptive to the idea of dancing with me and on Monday we attended our first Salsa dance class.

The Monday night 'drop in' salsa dance classes at The Gov' are as way of an introduction to the complete novice and I was quite suprised to realise the level of interest when the class started with close to 50 people (80% of which are incidentally female). This one guy, Julio, runs the gig and all us whiteys stand in lines learning the basic steps in a fashion that I thought made us look more like yee-haaing, toe- tapping line dancers. Finally, you get to throw it all together and the gals have to grab a lad (or dance with another gal), the Goddess (after some prompting) grabbed me which may not sound all that suprising when one considers that the other lads hadn't got 5 months first hand latin experience under their belts. So you can imagine, I was quite the happy camper having a bit of a dance, but wouldn't you know it something had to spoil it.

You see, the literal translation of "Salsa" from Español to English is "Sauce", and indeed the salsa is a bit of a saucy dance. SO you can imagine my dismay just when I was getting into my groove, when Julio shouts out that we have to change partners. This went on for the remainder of the evening: I danced with women old enough to be my great grandmother, 1 girl who couldn't stop giggling and a rather large lass whom I daren't hold in the small of her back for fear of losing my hand, if you follow my drift. Alas I wasn't to dance with the Goddess again that night, but trying to look on the bright side of life I didn't have to dance with any sweaty old geezers either, so it wasn't too reminiscent of Chile then.

For the record I didn't have it as bad as the Goddess, amongst others she danced with Mr "Smelly breath 2005"

Reality Blogging: You choose the issue, I write about it, then you vote my arse off the net

2005-10-04T11:30:00.000+09:30

It has come to the attention of the author that a sizeable slice of his online audience have become somewhat disenchanted with the incessant Iron Chefs match reports, and indeed many long for the days of regular Chilean updates (perhaps because I was conveniently absent?). Alas though, those days have gone and now unfortunately despite popular belief, my life isn't really that interesting. It is in fact hard to draw any worthy writing material from days spent at good ol' quiet Magill campus, so I invite readers to put forward their own suggestions for future posts.

Also due to the continued misunderstanding over my REAL opinions and the refusal of certain people to grant me time to speak my mind in certain fora, I refuse to write any further about the A-League.

Diehard Chefs fans however should not feel too neglected, what follows is a very brief Chefs update:

The Sunday just passed the Iron Army descended on the Windsor Castle again, on high still from the previous week's pillaging of the Glenside Old Scholars V. Some however were still wary as the Goddess was in attendance; something that has in the past always provoked a shock landslide capitulation amongst the Chefs ranks. However this week it wasn't to be, although the Chefs started somewhat lethargically they eventually found their groove and romped home to a 5-1 victory over the much fancied 5 down. Lethal strike duo, El Capitan and Thearle both featured on the scorers sheet with 3 and 2 respectively. Other players of note included Bucky Reitano and Andre in the defensive lines who tried to break a few legs, Afro Adonis floating through the middle and definitely taking a far more vocal approach to the game than the Captain. None of the opposition are worth noting.

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 11)
El Capitan- 23
Thearle- 18
Afro Adonis- 11
Bucky Reitano- 9
Andre- 3

According to John: The A-League

2005-09-27T12:15:00.000+09:30

Readers may or may not have heard of the horrendous US sitcom "According to Jim" starring (I use the term loosely) James Belushi (or is it Jim?). Briefly occupying a primetime channel 7 slot it has now been relegated to sometime mid afternoon, that's how crap it is. Although the fact that it screens on channel 7 in the first place should be a dead give away to the crapness.

Anyway this pitiful excuse for humour gives rise to the far better "According to John". In this issue of "According to me" I will examine the newly formed A-League, elaborating on my own views of the competition given my prolonged love affair with the beautiful game.

Firstly however a (very) brief Iron Chefs report: There isn't much to say really, we won..... wait for it...... 24-1 !!!!!!!!!!!! The opposition, Enfield Utd were without a doubt the crappest opposition ever. They fielded 2 girls (I am no sexist but this was definitely not a winning tactic) and the remaining 3 male players were possibly Glenside escapees (I mean it in the nicest way possible). Iron Chris Assikas who had until this week only managed a solitary goal single-handedly savaged the visitors piling on a whopping 10 goals! El capitan contributed with a mere 6, Bucky Reitano with 5 and Thearle with a slightly underachieving 3. It was however slightly embarrassing that we managed to concede just one goal and highlights a need to work on defence. And so the wildly warped goal tally looks like this:

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 10)
El Capitan- 20
Thearley- 16
Chef "I only score when the opposition are disabled" Assikas- 11
Bucky- 9
Andre- 3

Now to the A-League: I don't wish to start over again with my A-League thesis, those of you who have not read my formative views will find them at www.shaunsalright.blogspot.com under the comments of an article titled "Blueprint for success- Craig Foster speaks some sense".

Essentially I am very happy with the new look A-League and I am indeed pleased that the world game at last has a viable platform in Australia. However there are I feel some points to be improved on if the game is to flourish. In an ideal world the A-League will rightfully come to prominence in Australian sport usurping all other codes and bringing Australia in line with the rest of the world (with the exception of the fuckwit US) worshipping the round ball game. This however is perhaps a pipe dream and unlikely to come to fruition. My first problem is people like Les Murray on SBS. Some of you may have read his columns and books and realise that he is one of the leading proponents for football in this country and indeed he has I feel done a lot for the game. However his chief failure I believe is not securing the TV rights for the A-League for SBS. Rather when one's side is playing away, one must have access to Rupert's "Do me up my foxhole"TEL in order to watch the game. On this vast continent it is unlikely that all that many fans are able to travel frequently to away games, putting the games on free-to-air TV however would allow all to see all of the games. Furthermore when one does have access to FOX, one is far more likely to be watching the football, rugby or other "exotic" channels. My point here is that the A-League needs to tap potential markets where the AFL and NRL haven't already gone. If good quality football were screened on free-to-air TV, then I think it would gain a lot more interest. However currently the only good quality football that free-to-air viewers have access to are early morning european games and the occasional Australian national team game (please debate quality).

To be honest I am all ranted out at the moment and cannot be bothered writing further, however I have other issues with geographic representation of clubs, the marketing of clubs as cheerleader backed side shows and the scheduling of fixtures. Watch this space.

Hearts cease to beat as the Chefs are beaten by the "Easybeats"

2005-09-19T16:15:00.000+09:30

The seemingly unbeatable Iron Chefs have been beaten. But they were no easybeat as the "Easybeats" rose from obscurity to claim the league's biggest scalp. The Iron Army (image at left) were visibly distraught as their valiant boys in yellow went down 4-3. The Windsor Castle had for a solid 8 games been a fortress in which the Chefs dominated, however this week the walls were breached.

The game looked promising though as there were a host of young female fans in attendance, Chef Assikas The Younger (Chefs number 1 draft pick for next season) was also spotted on the terraces and the Real Chef Assikas sported a rather fetching pair of extremely short white shorts- someone throw the water please!! ooh ahh!

The Chefs were playing catch-up all day and the scoreline would suggest that the "Easybeats" outclassed their opposition. However spectators witnessed a wholly different affair. After conceding the first goal, El Capitan drew the Chefs back level and then after conceding a second, Thearle did likewise. Yet somehow they just could not clinch that vital goal that would propel them into the lead. They would try in vain though; Chef Assikas unleashed the wrath of Zeus' wind in a goalward direction however couldn't breach the keeper's defences, likewise El Capitan and Thearle perservered to no avail.

The Chefs then employed a cunning ploy; a Trojan horse, Bucky made sporadic forays into attack catching defenders unawares and unleashing a few strikes, however still the Chefs wouldn't find the net. The Easybeats then put the peddle down and went into a 4-2 lead and the Chefs were all at sea. Some suspect officiating allowed precious time to pass away and the Chefs could only manage a solitary consolation goal courtesy of Thearle.

On a brighter note, the Chefs did gain the 1 bonus point and are expected to remain top of the table. Also Thearle closed the gap on El Capitan at the top of the leading goalscorers tally:

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 9)
"El Toro" El Capitan- 14
Juan Luis- 13
Bucky- 4
Andre- 3
Son of Zeus (have you seen those legs?)- 1

Asian Tigers curried by Iron Chefs

2005-09-14T21:00:00.000+09:30

UEFA officials are scratching their heads this week after receiving an official application from the Iron Chefs Football Club for admission to the Champions league. The application comes only days after the Chefs notched up their 8th consecutive win.

Disoriented (or the Cambodian second 11) were this weeks prey as the boys in 'Egg yolk yellow' looked a little frazzled as they took the field; "boozing & cruisin" has become an almost institutionalised trait of some players. Fans fears were justified only minutes into the game as the Asian tigers pounced on a loose ball and put themselves into the lead. Truth be known, El Capitan Balestrino looked as though he might defect halfway through the game; "those Asian boys have such beautiful eyes". However both the captain and the rest of the team stayed the cause with gritty determination. As the game dragged on though the Iron Army fell silent in fear that they may be witnessing a cataclysmic almost orgasmic defeat, the silence was only broken by the distant chanting of the Barmy Army as England won the ashes... can you hear it?... can you? .... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 5-0 whitewash?... aha aha ha ha ha ha ha hahhahshh ah hahah hahah hahah hah hahah a hahhaah h ah

The Chefs went in at half time one goal down and seriously worried. However soon after the resumption of play it was as though the Chefs had received some kind of Flintoffesque inspiration, Thearle struck early and the game was drawn level. Yet the twists and turns kept on coming, almost immediately Cambodia struck another chopstick into the Chef's wok. Greek Chef Assikas went beserk, the frustration was obvious and the Chefs were in disarray. However calm prevailed and both Andre and Bucky tightened up the defence (and their backsides, after the Captain had threatened to do untold things to them if we lost). This is actually a curious point, as El capitan is known to be a little quiet on the pitch, many of the Iron Army have called for a more verbal approach to the captaincy. Afro and Rob both contributed well in creating chances and Afro in particular seemed to regain his form as he peppered the opposition goal from distance. However it was Thearle again who combined well with the Captain to draw the Chefs back level.

In the dying moments of the game it was the "White ninja midget" Bucky who leapt like a leper from the defensive line to nail the coffin shut. 3-2 and the Iron Chefs narrowly maintained their winning ways.

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 8)
El Capitan- 13
Thearle- 11
Bucky- 4
Andre- 3
Afro- 1

Online Poll: How long can the Iron Chefs maintain their winning streak?

Good God!.... or has he been a bad God?

2005-09-01T20:34:00.000+09:30

ADELAIDE. Thearle esq. Papal envoy reports.

The mighty Lord God (pictured right in a recent family picture) was brought before the Adelaide magistrates court today on charges relating to the Environment protection (water quality) act 2003. The charges relate to incidents in the distant past and so the act has been invoked in retrospect; a move that God's lawyers are challenging.

Specifically the charges relate to the parting of the Red Sea which took place in an unspecified place and year (something-or-other BC). Family friend of the God family, Moses has also been implicated as an accomplice based upon written evidence presented to the court during the opening morning of proceedings:

“And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and Jehovah caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all the night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry ground: and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand, and on their left” (Exodus 14:21-22).

Lucifer De Vil QC acting for the prosecution referred specifically to Division 1 of the act, which states:

General obligation to avoid discharge etc. into waters
(1) A person who is undertaking an activity, or is an occupier of land, must take all reasonable and practicable measures (not being measures that themselves cause environmental harm) to avoid the discharge or deposit of waste from that activity or land—
(a) into any waters; or
(b) onto land in a place from which it is reasonably likely to enter any waters (including by processes such as seepage or infiltration or carriage by wind, rain, sea spray, or stormwater or by the rising of the water table)

The prosecution case noted that the remains of Egyptian chariots in the red sea constituted excessive waste and a real threat to the local fragile ecosystem. Furthermore the exact loss of life resulting from the washing away of countless Egyptian lives was tantamount to genocide and murder charges could be brought before the court pending further evidence.

God who has lived a somewhat reclusive lifestyle since these and other events around the same time, refused to comment as he left the courthouse this afternoon. However he did point his finger to the sky in a somewhat rude gesture causing a sudden crack of lightning and this writers trousers to fall about his ankles.

This story will be updated as news comes to hand.

Chefs Crush Speed Addicts (Bucky Reitano new face of Road safety campaign: "I am not road kill")

And in sporting news this weekend just passed, the Iron Chefs stretched their winning streak to seven games consolidating their grip on first place in the Windsor Castle of Doom Blogger's conference league. Faced with a demented opposition clearly made up of ex-felons and Glenside escapees the Chefs were cool and calm as they swept aside their opposition in a 7-2 belting. El Capitan Balestrino scored an impressive 4, Thearle added 2 and Andre "The Giant" also added his name to the tally. Phil was sublime in goal, exerting a strange gravitational force that saw almost every opposition shot reach his firm grip or go skidding wide of the posts. Andre "the Giant" crushed all in his path as he maintained the Chefs defensive line in typical fashion. However Afro Assikas, who has been plagued by a recent back injury and subsequent poor form (see goalscorers tally) has been in rumours linked to local rival Real Madras. The Iron Chefs fan club has in response to this latest revelation set up an online petition to stop the loved Greek player leaving the club (add your name to the petition in the comments below).

Leading Goalscorers (total as after gameweek 7)

El Capitan Supremo Balestrino I- 13

Thearle- 9

Bucky "Rest, revive, survive" Reitano- 3

Andre "The Giant"- 3

Afro Assikas- 1

Middle East roadmap to peace- who needs it?

2005-08-31T20:32:00.000+09:30

Image at left: The most intelligent thing that George W Bush has ever done? Resigned to both being obese, stubborn and completely detrimental to any kind of peace in the Middle East, the Israeli leader and his Palestinian counterpart consider ending it all.

Ahhh, the only thing that could make this image better would be if ol' George had a third gun for himself. Anyway folks this posting is unfortunately not a political rambling for your reading digest, rather it is just a quick line by way of an apology for not posting recently. I know the diehard readers had anticipated another fascinating Iron Chefs report, but Greek Chef "Aphrodite's lover" Assikas has kindly taken that responsibility this week. However I have included below an updated goalscorers tally:

Goalscorers (total as after matchday 6)
El Capitan supremo Balestrino- 9
Thearle-7
Bucky Reitano- 3
Andre "The Giant"- 2
Afro "spineless (in the sense that he has a bad back, not his lack of courage)" Assikas- 1

Anyway I hope to post again soon, I am contemplating putting God up on trial since I figure that he has a bit to answer for, so that hopefully will provide interesting reading. Take care all, will be in touch as soon as I have had God charged with something (no offence intended to the devout).

Cheers.
Her Majesty's most law abiding, faithful, trustworthy and just generally a "good guy" subject
Thearle esquire

Self service dining room opened at the Windsor Castle

2005-08-22T12:56:00.000+09:30

Season ticket holder numbers have skyrocketed at the Windsor Castle in recent weeks on the back of the Iron Chef's impressive start to the season. Club officials have seized the opportunity (and cash windfall) opening the league's first self service dining room, for players, officials and fans alike. Greek Chef "I'm definitely not lebanese" Assikas christened the glitzy new facility by purchasing a whole chicken, loaf of bread (heavily reduced to only $1.50) and bottle of orange juice (also reduced). The feast that ensued was reminiscent of the good ol' days when men were men and not a bunch of preening, prancing ponies. However suggestions that the Iron Chefs preen, prance or have anything to do with ponies would be folly in light of two physical encounters over the past two weeks.

Firstly to matchday 4, where the Chefs faced a team of dubious quality (the name of which I confess to have forgotten). Anyway I won't dwell on it too long, the point is the Chefs were 2-0 winners thanks to Andre and Rob and Phil keeping a clean sheet in goal. The scoreline doesn't really reflect fairly on the game, and the score should have been more like 18-0. Notably Thearle squandered numerous chances, Afro was on target but not lethal enough and Captain Marvel ran a bit dry. But a win is a win and the Chefs extended their winning streak to 4 games.

Now to the more recent encounter (yesterday), where the opening of the "Ghandi George Feasting Hall" threatened to overshadow the actual game. Boystrous crowds (when men were men etc) milling about enjoying the bountiful fare on offer in the dining hall delayed kick off. However it was a game worth waiting for.

The Chefs looked jaded early on and conceded an early goal, suggestions are rife of stricter curfews on the star Chefs players, most of whom seem to lead some sort of playboy lifestyle. Some fans have felt disenfrancised in recent weeks as they lose identity with their Captain; "Balestrin seems to want to model himself on Beckham" one punter noted. Of course these disgruntled fans refer to the Captain's recent appearance in Alpha magazine with Rob's red hot top ten tips for a clean shave and his new deal as the new face of Gillette (the best a man can get). Furthermore Chef Afro seems to have read the column, sporting a new DIY hairstyle and cementing himself as the Chefs pin-up boy, he modelled the "un-showered dirty legs look" when he donned the coveted yellow shirt yesterday.

Nonetheless, the Chefs held their heads high and Thearle coming off the bench heralded something of a turnaround. The supersub drew the Chefs level promptly slotting past the hapless keeper. Then came what many commentators hailed as the real turning point in the match, a clinical Thearle strike of epic proportions swerved into the top right hand corner to put the Chefs ahead. Soon after the break Thearle struck again for his hatrick and to put the Chefs into a comfortable 3-1 lead.

The Chefs never really looked threatened again, both Bucky and Captain "Cleanshaven (the best a man can get)" put the issue beyond doubt with equally dutiful strikes. 5-1 and the Iron army were elated, can the chefs be stopped? This seems to be the question on many pundit's lips now, although having the best record in the league they still only sit second. But few would doubt that the Chefs will make a finals appearance and are the team to be watched this season.

Goalscorers (Total as after matchday 5)
Thearle-6
Captain Balestrin-6
Andre-2
Bucky-2
Afro-1

In an effort to expand this statistics section I will try to conduct a regular online poll. This weeks question is: Which Iron Chef sports the best hairstyle? (explantions and justifications welcomed)
Answers will be compiled and results published with the next match report.

Ha ha Glenn McGrath, slips on balls and wears a dirty bra (chant with gusto)

2005-08-16T19:17:00.000+09:30

3 tests down and 2 to go. The 2005 Ashes test series is poised on a knife edge, armchair experts can't decide which way it will go; will Australia pull off a "lucky country" escape to retain the coveted urn? or can Vaughan's valiant men restore dignity to the gentleman's game?

After a dismal showing at Lord's, all the critics had England written off again. My Grandad told me he wouldn't be watching any of the cricket this summer since England were a bunch of no-hopers. It would seem though that the second test at Edgbaston and the more recent third test at Old Trafford have proved both the critics and my Grandad wrong.

When Glenn McGrath, that well known cocky New South Welshman slipped on a ball before the Edgbaston test had even begun, it was his injury and absence that was blamed for the subsequent England victory. As though the fate of the Ashes were resting on his shoulders alone, Australians rejoiced in his swift return to fitness for the third test and expected a return to the days of old when an Australian triumph was more or less guaranteed. However Australia and in particular the cocky, over spoilt, devoid of any sense of reality Australian players were put on notice last weekend. The days of smacking England all over the wicket are over. Sure it may have ended in a draw, but there can be no doubt who the better side were.

The demi-god McGrath failed miserably in England's first innings and Shane Warne was the best of the Aussie batsmen again. England on the other hand continued to impress and it wouldn't be too fantastical to claim we are watching one of the best England teams in many a year (but that's not exactly a tall feat is it?). Anyway be warned Australia, you are on notice.

Trent Bridge, here we come. nb. We should have an Ashes night soon, we can all watch England teach the damn convicts a lesson.

As a closing note, I do not appreciate anonymous entreprenuers advertising their wares on my site, the comments section is for devoted subscribers only. This site shall not succumb to the type of terrorist activity that has recently dogged and all but destroyed another sister-site oldrob.blogspot.com

The love god strikes back at his Goddess, formerly titled: What do beastiality, curry and The Woolshed have in common?... The Goddess!

2005-08-13T13:44:00.000+09:30

Despite the above title I do not profess to be an expert when it comes to the female of the species. Indeed it is one of man's greatest failures I feel that he has not deciphered the web of intrigue that surrounds members of the contrary gender; especially put against the context of man's other great achievements. For instance, man has successfully imposed his churches and religion on the rest of mankind and more significantly used that religion to keep women effectively under his control as second class citizens (I've just finished reading "The Da Vinci Code", those of you that have read it will know where I am coming from). No mean feat, I am sure you would agree.

Nb. I don't fully endorse 'The Da Vinci Code", where fact becomes fiction is a topic for another posting, and the content is both extremely provocative and debatable.

Anyway despite my failings as a mere man, I have been involved in a mutually consential contemporary romantic arrangement with a member of the opposite sex for some time now and feel that I have a good enough if not sound platform for what I am about to deliberate. I am always struck with great interest to be around my male friends who harbour a desire to meet a socially acceptable young lady (ie. not a tramp) and to initiate an ongoing romantic understanding. Of particular interest is one young virile male friend/teammate/dancing and singing partner who has actually written a series of articles entitled "Women how I love thee" which explore the reasons (many but not all sexually deriven) why he loves women. Another young friend, let's call him phatty also displays a heady desire to meet female company and I doubt that I need mention Hoogster as many of us would be well informed of his exploits at his place of employ. These young men are not unique and my intent doesn't lay in vilifying them for these desires, indeed I believe I speak for most young men in saying most of us wish to meet some young spunkette. I am indeed lucky to find myself in such an arrangement , and do not seek to dissuade these young studs from their aims; so girls go out there and get 'em (they are all perfectly respectable young gentlemen) .My primary aim here is to shed light on what one actually involves oneself in when one embarks on a romantic odyssey such as the one I am currently involved in. What follows here is an account of a typical night out with the Goddess, since time spent with the Goddess is rarely a trivial affair, anything can and usually does happen. So then an account that draws on the actual events of friday night...

I finished a particularly busy and trying shift at work at 7pm, the nature of which was only uplifted slightly by the surprise visit of good friend Phatty T and the knowledge that I'd be meeting the Goddess after work. 7pm came around and sure enough the Goddess awaited me outside, we had planned to see a show at the festival theatre that started at 7.30 and so hurried down so as not to miss the start. It is worth noting here that I had agreed to go to this show one week earlier when we had both had a few drinks, and consequentially had forgotten exactly what sort of show it was (an infraction I feel sure that the Goddess will not forgive lightly). However the Goddess has always had an artistic side and I've trusted her taste and judgement without question, and so it was no different on this occasion and I looked forward optimistically to the show.

The goat or who is Sylvia? as I found out the show is called upon arrival at the festival theatre is marketed as a comedy and future classic, or more simply the one word description on the flyer says "unforgettable". I am inclined to agree with that judgement. Briefly The goat follows the story of an affluent American architect who has to tell his wife (whom he claims to love devoutly) that he has been having an affair with Sylvia, now here comes the twist... Sylvia is a goat. I began to shift uneasily in my chair as it became apparent that one of the core themes to the play is indeed beastiality. And not only was it confined to Sylvia the goat; geese, dogs and pigs also rated a mention. To say I was a little bemused would be an understatement, had the Goddess known what the play was about? if so then was she hoping to provoke some kind of reaction in me? These were both questions running through my mind. However it must be noted that I was thoroughly entertained if not a little sickened at the same time. The goat lived up to it's label as a comedy and I certainly won't forget it too soon. The Goddess giggled (as only she can) throughout the performance, a sweet innocent reaction that placated my fears that she may be trying to send me some kind of subliminal message. However this is becoming a bit of a recurring occurrence with the Goddess, on our very first date we saw a very strange Spanish film which involved a male voluntary nurse getting a girl in a coma pregnant, and if that's not strange enough the film is punctuated by random dream scenes in which the male nurse (in miniature) walks over the girl's naked body and eventually into her womb... via you know where... hm hm...oh gosh I think I'm blushing.

Upon leaving the theatre I needed a drink before going for a bite to eat, and so we ducked into the bar beneath the theatre (it's ok I didn't know it was there either) to restore our (or mine at least) composure. By now it was nearing 10pm and we were going to have trouble finding a kitchen still open, however just over the road from the Casino, halfway up Bank street is a most dubious Indian establishment named the Tandoori Hut. Upon entering one is greeted by a huge mural of the Taj Mahal which would make Ghandi George gush with homesickness. Looking around we realised we were the only people there, except for the chattering of Indian accents somewhere towards the back behind a huge mirrored wall in what one can only presume is the kitchen. Eventually a turbaned chap emerged and greeted us, I made mention of my tenuous links to the British Raj and he hastily ushered us to some seats (looking around nervously as though he feared a shortage of tables). As we were seated he mentioned that we could only pay cash since the credit card facilities had been shut down for the evening, I replied courteously that the wealth of the British Raj had been somewhat depleted since the days of empire (due to the filthy pilfering Indians no doubt!!!....... bite the bait Shaun) and not possessing a credit card then this would not prove a problem. Left to peruse the menu we decided to share a few things, selecting a few plates of choice rice, nan bread and then a Chicken Moghali (done the mongolian way- not very Indian) and a Lamb korma (despite the performance we had just seen). Another Indian fellow (un-turbaned) came to take our order and mentioned that since the credit card facilities were shut down we would have to pay cash, deja vous was beginning to set in. Having taken our order he left us to enjoy our meal, and I must say despite the rest of the restaurant being deserted I thoroughly enjoyed it- hearty Indian fare always gets me right there!! I made mention to the Goddess that I thought this would be a good place to come as a large group (at least we would be giving them some trade, and to be frank the prices were amongst the cheapest I've seen anywhere).

As we left into the chill of the night air the turbaned and un turbaned staff bid us "thank you, come again". We spent much of the rest of the night hopping from bar to bar, quite normal until the Goddess suggested that we go to the Woolshed to play pool (she has a mean competitive streak) and check out the cricket score (a topic for another post!!! Which I am sure I'll enjoy writing). I am sure most of you know (and sensibly avoid) the Woolshed, proclaimed somewhat dubiously as a country pub brought to the city. It was remember a Friday night and as we walked toward the entrance it was obvious that they weren't doing a brisk trade; only a few old gals line dancing, whilst Troy Dann (remember him!) and a few bruddas looked on drowning their sorrows with a few crownies (everyone knows that despite the apparent yuppie appeal, only bogans drink piss weak Crown Lager). So it seemed logical they might like our custom to boost the takings a little. Approaching the door the rather bored looking bouncer looked us over and as we went to enter I bid him good evening, however he stopped us just short of breaching the door and motioning towards me said "Sorry mate, can't go in. Wrong dress code".
[DEEP BREATH]
[DEEP BREATH]
Now I don't think I have ever been denied entry to any establishment for inappropriate dress code, let alone the bloody Woolshed!!! Those of you who know me personally (rather than just some cyber twit who writes random mutterings on this blog), will know that I try to take a certain amount of pride in my appearance (you have to do something when your as ugly as me!!). I don't think of myself as a "prettyboy" and I certainly hope that I don't come across that way, but I do like to make a little effort. On this particular evening I wore jeans, a shirt and vest; not overly "hip" or "trendy" I thought, but presentable. Those of you that have ever been to The Woolshed will know it as domain of the cowboy hat, bumster (outrageous) flare, flannelette shirt and steel cap boot (likely to have last seen wear amongst the sh*t on the nearest cattle station). And so you can imagine my incredulity at being denied entry to such a place.

It was all in all quite a surreal night and so hopefully you can take something from this, my message is to those of you who continue to write of your quest for the divine feminine. Take stock and beware, these girls you speak of are cunning creatures. Yet having said that, it all sounds rather nice, doesn't it?

Japan's greatest contribution to the cultural world & the Chefs continue their Iron march onwards and upwards.

2005-08-07T16:24:00.000+09:30

Word amongst the regulars around the usual haunts would have one believe that things are pretty same old, same old. Croatia's first boat person continues to snort things (read spilt cocktail) up his nasal passage and has recently developed an unhealthy zeal for talking of another bodily orifice, unique to the male of the species (use your imagination) and how he has read of painful (or so I imagine) penetrations of said orifice with unusual implements. Captain Cleanshaven has lately started to paint himself in a new light, becoming more militant by the day but not for anything of any particular importance, rather he has launched a damning attack against facial hair (of all things), labelling all those who choose to adorn themselves with a little stubble as socially irresponsible and insensitive to the feelings of the ladies. One can only presume that in the ideal world around rob that all the ladies think exactly the same and are attracted to exactly the same type of guy- but is that guy really Rob?

And those regulars would be more or less right, things are pretty much business as usual- after all the Iron Chefs won again this weekend, however I'll come to that shortly. Firstly I'd like to focus on the Saturday night just passed, having finished slaving away in my place of employ at about 12.15 I headed out with some of the boys in celebration of the Bearhunter's 21st birthday and had an extremely acceptable time, albeit not exactly atypical of a night with this group of delinquents.

Rendevousing at the Belgian Beer Bar we moved along to PJs where we quickly discovered that Saturday night plays host to the upstairs karaoke evening. Captain Cleanshaven who as many readers will know has a somewhat unhealthy penchant for all things Asian was keen, and I expressed enthusiasm given that it had been a whole month since I'd last strutted my stuff in Chile (I was suffering withdrawal symptoms). However others expressed reservations, in particular Bucky was concerned that he may be laughed at for his squeaky voice and Sanjeev "I only sing in Bollywood" George queried whether it mattered that he is black, at which point I suggested he could give us a Michael Jackson number.

Despite the reservations we all piled upstairs and soon had our names down for a few hits. Rob and I started us off with Ol' Blue Eye's "My Way", now I am no talent when given a microphone but I believe we were recieved well and warmed up the crowd for our upcoming headline act. I had never seen the Captain perform his solo "Blue suede shoes", but having seen it once I'll go on the record stating that I want to see more. "Chocolate for the ears" I heard one punter remark, but really he did sound like the King and he had all the leg movements going on as well. To his credit he also dealt with the usual (or in this case unusual) on stage hiccups well also- halfway through, his gyrating groin and leg movements were becoming a little over enthusiatic and resulted in causing the CD player (situated on the stage) to skip to another song.... "bee buba looba she's my baby" started scrolling up the screen, but he continued singing on in his creamy Elvis voice anyway! a true talent.

A few of us including the birthday bearhunter then gave a rusty rendition of "California dreaming" and finally Croatia's first and most shameful boat person and Dazza amongst others finished us off with "Can't stop" by the Chilli willies. The Goddess made an appearance as we were finishing "California dreaming", but I think she was glad to have missed "my way" (sang my way). All that was missing was Afro "Aphrodites child" the Greek's must-see cover of Van Halen's "Jump" and word on the grapevine has it that Hoogster gives a heartwrenching rendition of "sultanas on the grapevine" (line-dancing included) from the old Sultana Bran adverts.

The Karaoke at PJ's finishes at 2.30 so we had to move on. In the mood for one of the Chinese long necks that one can consume at Supermild we went there, only to find on arrival they no longer stock it. Nonetheless we perserved like the good christian soldiers (or islamic in phatty Tashkent's case) that we are.... (odd thing to have written actually, as I hold no particular religous affiliation and I am reasonably sure that "Ghandi" George is a good hindi boy). Still, we drank up and more importantly burnt up the dance floor. Readers may remember my brief dancing career in Chile and some of the lads were keen to see me at work, however the foxy Goddess wasn't in the mood for my foxtrot (she'd had enough of it friday night), so I needed someone else to dance with. The recently crowned King Captain Crooner stepped up and I must admit I blushed as he let me dip him. Next up was Bucky who I think must have been jealous, we tried a spin but the poor dear had forgotten to stow his beer somewhere- as we spun a spiral of coopers pale flew through the air, it was beautiful. All in all a very pleasant evening.

Moving along, a quick fire Iron Chefs report....

Sitting in third before Sunday's late 9pm fixture the Chefs were looking to consolidate their enviable start to the season. Schuma United (aka. Welland Green Grocers) appeared a formidable opposition (because they were all wogs and I get intimidated anytime I face a side that looks like the Italian national side- don't ask me why). The Windsor Castle was packed to the rafters in anticipation and the faithful were rewarded early on as Captain "I sing, dance and score goals" poked a tame shot passed the flapping goalkeeper of mediterranean extraction. The rest of the first half was a scrappy affair and the Green Grocers were getting increasing frustrated and agressive. Afro (who was already mildly pissed off since he'd missed the previous night's song and dance) had trouble keeping a lid on his rising temper, however he let his feet do the talking and proved a valuable asset working the ball from defence into the attack.

The second half saw the green grocers self destruct as bitter infighting and arguing with the ref gripped their team. The Chefs took advantage and played with a cool air of supremacy, they took their time and consolidated their lead when Thearle struck a commandment from heaven into the bottom left hand corner of the hapless grocer's net. Admittedly there were moments when the Chefs failed to close down the opposition attack quickly enough, the attackers didn't drop back at all times when needed, however Phil in goal played a blinder keeping his first clean sheet of the season. The Captain of the moment put the final nail in the coffin a few minutes from time when a loose ball came his way, he swivelled on it and struck it first time on his right foot finding the net. Both Andre and Bucky were pivotal in defence and the team can be happy with a third consecutive win. It's also worth noting that after the game Schuma United withdrew in frustration totally from the league- an all wog team that couldn't hack the Iron Chefs- I think I am cured of my wog intimidation.

Goalscorers (total as after matchday 3)
Captain Balestrin-4
Thearle-3
Afro-1
Andre-1
Bucky-1

Prodigal son returns: The beginning of a Chefs renaissance?

2005-07-31T20:49:00.000+09:30

Having now been back in Adelaide for 2 weeks it is probably time that I wrote something new, I am sure most readers will be glad of an end to Chile related postings. However this does leave me with something of a quandary; suitable writing material has become a little hard to come by- Eduardo may have been a dick but he gave me a veritable spring of hardy writing matter.

Today I turn my attention to the beginning of the Iron Chef's new campaign to secure silverware from the Windsor Castle- preferably winning it in emphatic style, but if we grow desperate we'll scale the walls. However firstly I'd like to say how nice it has been to see everyone since I've been back and to those that I still have not seen that I look forward to seeing you soon.

The Chef's new season began in earnest last weekend with a return to the side of the highly talented although equally modest Thearle. Although his absence proved not to be detrimental to the Chef's onfield performances throughout last season, it did herald something of a return to a classic Chef's outfit- old geezers who've been passing through the turnstiles at the Windsor Castle for years could be seen to hold back the odd tear last Sunday as they watched their valiant son don the traditional yellow attire once again. (Better move along- I could risk talking myself up a little too much)....

The traditional line up favoured by Captain "Cleanshaven" Balestrin included Phil, Bucky Reitano, the Greek god Afro, Thearley and the Captain himself. Speculation whether the veteran team could possibly be over the hill didn't deter the Iron Army from attending in force to see their aging charges take the field against what was definitely a sharper and fitter looking opposition.

Unpeturbed and lacking the benefit of a substitute the Chefs rose to the occasion. Captain Balestrin added his name to the score sheet twice, with Thearle scoring on return and Afro being rewarded for one of his many forays into attack also. Phil played a splendid game between the posts although conceding one goal may have detracted slightly from what was otherwise a positive beginning to the season. The Chefs finished 4-1 to the good, asserting themselves as an agressive competitor not to be dismissed this season.

This week's game was a family affair as Afro faced his brother who lined up for Undecided. Spirits were high as Chefs fans and players alike continued to gloat in light of their positive beginning to the season last week. Furthermore the addition of Andre who had been absent last week provided the advantage of a substitute to keep fresh legs rotating onto and off of the bench. Andre proved his worth only minutes into the game, netting the first strike and giving the Chefs the upper hand. Despite the lead the Chefs were looking shaky, Captain Balestrin was quoted after the game as having said "defensive play was sloppy and attackers failed to drop back on occasion, question marks hang over the conduct of players the night before a game- excessive drinking and partying seem to have become a cultural mainstay of our side and disciplinary action could be on the cards; I for one would like to see an end to facial hair". Sibling rivalry seemed to creep into Afro's game, although if anything it only added to the intensity with which he played. Nervous onlookers were later placated however as Bucky scored an absolute pearler resulting from some nice passing- reminiscent of classic Chefs fixtures. Thearle later consolidated the Chef's supremacy making it 3, although Undecided featured on the score sheet twice they were always chasing. The Chefs can be happy with the 3-2 win but go away with the knowledge that work is still needed.

Goalscorers(total as after matchday 2)
Captain Balestrin-2
Thearle-2
Afro-1
Andre-1
Bucky-1