Australia's international carriers have been thrown into overdrive after it was discovered that we as a nation are in crisis.
Thanks to old Larry, who rocked northern Queensland like a V8 Commodore on high school graduation night – leaving its occupants broozed, busted open and demoralised - Australians will be flocking to the Filipines in droves not only in pursuit of mail order brides, but to wrap their respective laughing gear around the common household banana, where 12% of the world’s demand of phallic-shaped fruit is produced.
For as long as it takes to introduce a new mouth to feed at the family dinner table, Australians may be forced to go without their favourite edible symbol of sexual domination, due to bureaucracy coming out from Canberra – more specifically Federal agricultural minister Peter McGauran – who is anti the importing of bananas, because banana eaters vote liberal. Or something…
He told The Spencer Street Socialist here that those yearning for banana – including his own wife who had forebodingly left her post in the family kitchen – must learn to go without as nobody aches for it like those affected by the disaster in FNQ. "We all have to put it into that context and bear the pain for the next nine to 12 months," he said like a man who’s had to chastise his wife for such wrong doings before.
Would somebody please think of the children. For close on a year, Australian High Schools will be at a loss. When it comes to teaching pre-pubescent persons the ways of donning external contraceptive devices, gone will be the days of reaching into students’ lunchboxes, or making for the local green grocer for a bunch of ripened surrogate penises. Gone will be the nervous giggles’ of naive teenaged girls, eager to learn how best to please their loved ones’; and perhaps worst of all, a certain innocence will be lost in the demise of that simple act of rolling a condom over a ripened banana.
Pressure is mounting to open up trade barriers before our youth start taking matters into their own pants.
Meanwhile, the Banana Growers Council chief executive Tony Heidrich told The Age that bananas will become a luxury – particularly among those ladies with homosexual tendencies. But we can all breathe a sigh of relief, as our Aussie battling mates from the sticks are “…working to get bananas back as soon as possible."
Monday, March 27, 2006
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Shut up bitch!
While swilling overly priced pints of ekky-dry at the Limerick Hotel in South Melbourne, my ears were somewhat offended by the Southern Australian, upper echelon, “yes darling” fist-in-arse brogue, which could be heard emitting in a constant stream from the neighbouring table. Taking matters into my own hands, I decided to put a stop to this irritant, by gently submerging my nuts in her G&T. Hey. It was a hot day.
This got me, and my fellow blogging amigo – whose anal adventures can be found here – all introspective. Which glass of alcoholic liquid would be the most appropriate in which to go the plunge?
There are many variables to take into account, and dogmatic rules to abide by. A pint glass – ideal in its capacity to hold a large volume of beer – may prove too capacious for comfortable emersion. Similarly, given that the doodle must not be present in the glass along with the testicles, one must be careful to ensure that the glass is not excessively diminutive. We chose to opt for the schooner glass, and/or the short spirit glass, available in most pubs and clubs across Australia.
Secondly, the liquid in said glass is a controversial issue. With many, many possibilities to choose from, one must select wisely. While Guinness Extra Cold may be best left to the seasoned plunger, the creamy consistency combined with a high concentration of pressure -PSI - may be quite pleasurable to some. While the same applies to other ails and English bitters, mixed drinks are likely to be a favourite, particularly those with bubbly ingredients, and ice which would bob gently around the testicles.
Personally I opt for Champaign. Sparkling wines are notably effervescent – the sensations of which would be somewhat congenial, and effective in its task to silence it’s owner in mid sentence. I must affirm that the beverage be served in a schooner glass for optimum comfort.
I throw it to you, my loyal readers. Please, only serious responses.
Incidentally, after careful consideration, my friend opted for Caffrey’s. Obviously some kind of hardcore.
This got me, and my fellow blogging amigo – whose anal adventures can be found here – all introspective. Which glass of alcoholic liquid would be the most appropriate in which to go the plunge?
There are many variables to take into account, and dogmatic rules to abide by. A pint glass – ideal in its capacity to hold a large volume of beer – may prove too capacious for comfortable emersion. Similarly, given that the doodle must not be present in the glass along with the testicles, one must be careful to ensure that the glass is not excessively diminutive. We chose to opt for the schooner glass, and/or the short spirit glass, available in most pubs and clubs across Australia.
Secondly, the liquid in said glass is a controversial issue. With many, many possibilities to choose from, one must select wisely. While Guinness Extra Cold may be best left to the seasoned plunger, the creamy consistency combined with a high concentration of pressure -PSI - may be quite pleasurable to some. While the same applies to other ails and English bitters, mixed drinks are likely to be a favourite, particularly those with bubbly ingredients, and ice which would bob gently around the testicles.
Personally I opt for Champaign. Sparkling wines are notably effervescent – the sensations of which would be somewhat congenial, and effective in its task to silence it’s owner in mid sentence. I must affirm that the beverage be served in a schooner glass for optimum comfort.
I throw it to you, my loyal readers. Please, only serious responses.
Incidentally, after careful consideration, my friend opted for Caffrey’s. Obviously some kind of hardcore.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Finally our courts got it right
Its just as well Sydney courts have put away these abominable characters for unlawful practise with beer bottles.
The two men, who were happily shacked up together, were found guilty for making molotov cocktails in beer bottles - with the intent to lob them into the arses' of the inferior. Given their alleged involvement in the Cronulla Riots, we can assume this refers to those of Lebonese descent, practicing Muslims, Turks, Greeks and icecream vendors.
I point the figure squarely at the licquer industry.
Yes, you Mr. Carlton, filling your pockets as every would-be terrorist comes in for a 24 pack of death chargers and a cigarette lighter. Heaven forbid you can even sleep at night, knowing that your chosen method of containment - the bottle - is nothing but a pre-loaded weapon!
While buying a 6-pack of artillery at my local IGA, I made some enquiries. My friends, these are dark tidings at hand. Beer consumption is rife among young males.
Even a shitty inner city Melbourne convenience store-come-bottleo makes a hefty contribution to domestic warfare, and with a plethra of chilled merchandise at the ready, I fear for my life.
Worse still, is those who claim to be homebrew enthusiasts. Stockpiling weaponery, filling each individual unit with a pungeont mixture of unfermented substance; unfit for human consumption. Substance, that will no doubt kill us.
Put an end to these hate crimes Mr. Howard, or at least impose more taxes on the beer industry, before we're all put to early bottle-afflicted deaths.
The two men, who were happily shacked up together, were found guilty for making molotov cocktails in beer bottles - with the intent to lob them into the arses' of the inferior. Given their alleged involvement in the Cronulla Riots, we can assume this refers to those of Lebonese descent, practicing Muslims, Turks, Greeks and icecream vendors.
I point the figure squarely at the licquer industry.
Yes, you Mr. Carlton, filling your pockets as every would-be terrorist comes in for a 24 pack of death chargers and a cigarette lighter. Heaven forbid you can even sleep at night, knowing that your chosen method of containment - the bottle - is nothing but a pre-loaded weapon!
While buying a 6-pack of artillery at my local IGA, I made some enquiries. My friends, these are dark tidings at hand. Beer consumption is rife among young males.
Even a shitty inner city Melbourne convenience store-come-bottleo makes a hefty contribution to domestic warfare, and with a plethra of chilled merchandise at the ready, I fear for my life.
Worse still, is those who claim to be homebrew enthusiasts. Stockpiling weaponery, filling each individual unit with a pungeont mixture of unfermented substance; unfit for human consumption. Substance, that will no doubt kill us.
Put an end to these hate crimes Mr. Howard, or at least impose more taxes on the beer industry, before we're all put to early bottle-afflicted deaths.
Bracksy's shed
Good on old Braksy for uprooting Kennett's firm grip on ridiculousness, with the recent proposal to erect a new convention centre - larger, swankier and more expensive than Jeff's Shed.
"This is the biggest plenary hall in the southern hemisphere," he told The Age. Which is exactly what i wager Kennett said roughly 10 years ago.
The $1 billion house of corporate prostitution will hold 3000 more people than its predecessor, will boast a Hilton International Hotel (which can only mean good things for Melbourne's Internet porn industry), and Victoria's tax payers are said to be throwing in more than $300 million. A bargain in anyone's eyes, given Melbournians' limited use of such facilities.
Just think of the after-christmas sales. Those fucking ads will be unstoppable!
Moreover, the high class hookers - of which i am related to one - who reside just across the river in the ever-so-glammorous Flinders Wharf Apartments will have to endure the delights ossociated with construction and sound pollution for the next 2 years.
Suffer in ya jocks ya cunts!
"This is the biggest plenary hall in the southern hemisphere," he told The Age. Which is exactly what i wager Kennett said roughly 10 years ago.
The $1 billion house of corporate prostitution will hold 3000 more people than its predecessor, will boast a Hilton International Hotel (which can only mean good things for Melbourne's Internet porn industry), and Victoria's tax payers are said to be throwing in more than $300 million. A bargain in anyone's eyes, given Melbournians' limited use of such facilities.
Just think of the after-christmas sales. Those fucking ads will be unstoppable!
Moreover, the high class hookers - of which i am related to one - who reside just across the river in the ever-so-glammorous Flinders Wharf Apartments will have to endure the delights ossociated with construction and sound pollution for the next 2 years.
Suffer in ya jocks ya cunts!
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Pubic Transport
The Age never ceases to entertain, and the arseclown behind this story deserves a Walkley for his adjectival prowess; or at least a AVN award for putting sex back into reading the paper over breaky.
An expansion to Melbourne's suburban train network has been described as a "sexy" option. Which it indubitably is - next to prostate examination. However personally when it comes to public transport, I see little by way of stimulous which would get me hot between the sheets.
I'm sure we all have "pleasurable" stories to relay on the raunch behind taking a trip on our local tram, train or bus.
Only last week i was on an over-crowded tram in the city, where an old man was coughing up mucus into his hand, and then rubbing it into the seat beside him to prevent others from sitting down. NOICE!!
Further to prettying up the trains, "long-suffering" bus passengers will be doing high-fives in the isles when they find out that Bracksy plans to introduce "...minimum service levels on all routes, including night and Sunday services."
Now I've had some hilariously bad sex. But minimum service on all routes???
An expansion to Melbourne's suburban train network has been described as a "sexy" option. Which it indubitably is - next to prostate examination. However personally when it comes to public transport, I see little by way of stimulous which would get me hot between the sheets.
I'm sure we all have "pleasurable" stories to relay on the raunch behind taking a trip on our local tram, train or bus.
Only last week i was on an over-crowded tram in the city, where an old man was coughing up mucus into his hand, and then rubbing it into the seat beside him to prevent others from sitting down. NOICE!!
Further to prettying up the trains, "long-suffering" bus passengers will be doing high-fives in the isles when they find out that Bracksy plans to introduce "...minimum service levels on all routes, including night and Sunday services."
Now I've had some hilariously bad sex. But minimum service on all routes???
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The moreish cock
Like a bit of cock in your diet? Customers at this restaurant in Beijing have been enjoying penis of all shapes and sizes since November, and by all accounts, business is coming hard and fast.
First-timers are recommendet the "hot pot", which boasts no less than 6 penises, a couple of testicles, and some fruit to garnish. That, my loyal readers, sounds like a huge first experience!
Mr. Liu - the restaurant's best customer - is convinced that the mass consumption of penis will improve his "yang". Apparently, verility, stamina and a healthy diet are utmost on his agender, however personally I think he's there to feel up the weight staff, as well as to fulfill some kind of sadistic fetish.
Surely it hasn't gone unnoticed that the weightress - who mysteriously goes by the name of Ms. Liu - at all of twenty-two, is charged with the foreboding task of serving penis on a plate to this man, who is constantly devouring the vital organs, and coming back for more. Can a woman really love a man who eats that much penis?
"I did find it embarrassing at first," she told the cock hungry man from the Telegraph. "And sometimes the customers take advantage of me by asking rude questions."
I'm gonna let that one go through to the keeper.
First-timers are recommendet the "hot pot", which boasts no less than 6 penises, a couple of testicles, and some fruit to garnish. That, my loyal readers, sounds like a huge first experience!
Mr. Liu - the restaurant's best customer - is convinced that the mass consumption of penis will improve his "yang". Apparently, verility, stamina and a healthy diet are utmost on his agender, however personally I think he's there to feel up the weight staff, as well as to fulfill some kind of sadistic fetish.
Surely it hasn't gone unnoticed that the weightress - who mysteriously goes by the name of Ms. Liu - at all of twenty-two, is charged with the foreboding task of serving penis on a plate to this man, who is constantly devouring the vital organs, and coming back for more. Can a woman really love a man who eats that much penis?
"I did find it embarrassing at first," she told the cock hungry man from the Telegraph. "And sometimes the customers take advantage of me by asking rude questions."
I'm gonna let that one go through to the keeper.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Leaving the nest
on returning to my building this morning, i overheard a girl on the phone, pleading with her mother.
"no "Mom", she's not leaving you," she said in a whiney half-ammerican accent, typical of young Australian women. "She's just following her dreams," she continued with an air of bored familiarity.
I can only assume the girl was referring to a younger sibling, who was leaving home to pursue travel, a degree, a life, a positive future, loud rambunctious sex, or drug crimes. Activities - which aren't entirely impossible in the parents' house - are certainly hampered by their presence. The things that typify young Australian lives. The Phenomena which shape some of us into responsible human beings.
Our belovered one-click-diagnosing doctor - google - pigeon holes parental grief as "empty nest syndrome". Even the Prictorian Government has jumped aboard the band wagon, offering support to Victoria's baby boomers, whose offspring are making that unlikely transition from child to young adult. Who would have thunk it.
Finally Johnny Howard and his entourage of merry men and women have stumbled across a solution.
The boomers never had it so good.
Shelving unwanted pregnancy
· puts an end to later “empty nest” related grievances
· Allows devout catholics to attend more B&S balls
· Breaks tradition amongst avid users of the Withdraw method
· Threatens the condom industry, which has been killing poor innocent trees for our sexual promiscuity for far too long.
Trust the libs to undermine the authority of the Victorian State.
"no "Mom", she's not leaving you," she said in a whiney half-ammerican accent, typical of young Australian women. "She's just following her dreams," she continued with an air of bored familiarity.
I can only assume the girl was referring to a younger sibling, who was leaving home to pursue travel, a degree, a life, a positive future, loud rambunctious sex, or drug crimes. Activities - which aren't entirely impossible in the parents' house - are certainly hampered by their presence. The things that typify young Australian lives. The Phenomena which shape some of us into responsible human beings.
Our belovered one-click-diagnosing doctor - google - pigeon holes parental grief as "empty nest syndrome". Even the Prictorian Government has jumped aboard the band wagon, offering support to Victoria's baby boomers, whose offspring are making that unlikely transition from child to young adult. Who would have thunk it.
Finally Johnny Howard and his entourage of merry men and women have stumbled across a solution.
The boomers never had it so good.
Shelving unwanted pregnancy
· puts an end to later “empty nest” related grievances
· Allows devout catholics to attend more B&S balls
· Breaks tradition amongst avid users of the Withdraw method
· Threatens the condom industry, which has been killing poor innocent trees for our sexual promiscuity for far too long.
Trust the libs to undermine the authority of the Victorian State.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
And it burns burns burns
I was woken from a deep slumber a little before sparrows fart this morning by the Incessant wailing of a fire alarm. At least I think I was. At this point it hit me. Shit, my building's on fire. Furthermore, Shit I live on the 22nd floor - 23 if you count the mezinine. That's a lot of steps!
The moment took me back to uni days, when I, along with 200 odd others would struggle from an alcohol pervaded state of unconsciousness, down the single flight of stairs to perceived safety in the tinder box - Toohey Forest - which surrounded the residential college. All because someone was smoking a bong in their room.
This occurred surprisingly often in my 3-years of on-campus living, and I remember the inner struggle which accompanied such inappropriate awakenings very well.
Shit. what's that noise. Its warm in here. Would you shut the fuck up Dale (my neighbour). What time is it. Fuck my head hurts. I better get up. I can't feel my legs. Ok, i'm standing. Fuck my head really hurts. Where's my pants.
- All this just to live.
As i type, they're testing the alarm again. It's going to be fruity lexia from now on i reckon.
The moment took me back to uni days, when I, along with 200 odd others would struggle from an alcohol pervaded state of unconsciousness, down the single flight of stairs to perceived safety in the tinder box - Toohey Forest - which surrounded the residential college. All because someone was smoking a bong in their room.
This occurred surprisingly often in my 3-years of on-campus living, and I remember the inner struggle which accompanied such inappropriate awakenings very well.
Shit. what's that noise. Its warm in here. Would you shut the fuck up Dale (my neighbour). What time is it. Fuck my head hurts. I better get up. I can't feel my legs. Ok, i'm standing. Fuck my head really hurts. Where's my pants.
- All this just to live.
As i type, they're testing the alarm again. It's going to be fruity lexia from now on i reckon.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Australian hip hop fighting a losing battle
Look at this shit! The national youth broadcaster - JJJ - one of Australia's only voices for home grown beats has largely dropped the ball this year, with the hottest 100 countdown turning out only 2 aussie hip hop tracks. Four if you count the routine "i fucked your mum", "fuck I'm hilarious", "I jis in your eye" tedium from Butterfingers - which i don't.
With an unusually high representation of musica Australiana in this year's vote tally, there's little by way of rocket science needed to see what's afoot.
COMMERCIALISM!
With Berny fanning taking out the top spot (on his own this year), and the 'Precocious cunt' Ben Lee hot on his heels, one could have been easily mistaken that they were listening to the top 40 on Fox. As for the two hip hop tracks, The Herd who are responsible for both came in at 19 and 87. They themselves seem somewhat ambivalent toward the subject.
Despite being a slow-ish year for Aussie hip hop, it did not go without some major releases from some of the scene's stablemates, such as DownSyde TZU Pegz and of course the Herd, albums which the j's themselves featured throughout the year.
The J team have even admitted to the fact that they wouldn't have voted with such irreverence; but the fact remains. The countdown this year was none other than a disappointment!
With an unusually high representation of musica Australiana in this year's vote tally, there's little by way of rocket science needed to see what's afoot.
COMMERCIALISM!
With Berny fanning taking out the top spot (on his own this year), and the 'Precocious cunt' Ben Lee hot on his heels, one could have been easily mistaken that they were listening to the top 40 on Fox. As for the two hip hop tracks, The Herd who are responsible for both came in at 19 and 87. They themselves seem somewhat ambivalent toward the subject.
Despite being a slow-ish year for Aussie hip hop, it did not go without some major releases from some of the scene's stablemates, such as DownSyde TZU Pegz and of course the Herd, albums which the j's themselves featured throughout the year.
The J team have even admitted to the fact that they wouldn't have voted with such irreverence; but the fact remains. The countdown this year was none other than a disappointment!
Melbourne. What the fuck?
It seems the imminant arrival of the Commonwealth Games to our shores has turned the respectable city of Melbourne into a fucking asylum. Earlier today I took to the streets of Melbourne town, tripped over a plethera of talentless buskers, got wet, frostbitten and sunburnt, and hit up by no less than 3 toothless beggers. The Hare Krishnas were out chanting their shit and rattling collection tins clearly loaded with coin, and what's worse, people were buying their shit. What-the-fuck!!!?!??! Figuring coke is best snorted from clean hotel vanities, I dropped a couple of coins in the cup of one young go-getter, who was hard at work lying flat out on Swanston street, mimmicking his czech counterparts. He's guaranteed a Braxy-funded bed in a month, just in time for Melbourne's long, drawn-out, la nina-effected winter. Good thing he'll have the coke!
Another blow for Melbourne's bums is State Planning Minister "Hullsy"'s plan to revamp Smith street in Collingwood into a shopping mecca complete with a whole fuck load of living space. Gone will be the $5 jugs of alleged Coopers ale. Gone will be the junkies basking under their favourite tree (which will surely go), and perhaps most importantly, gone will be the only bakery I'm yet to find in the whole of Melbourne which is able to bang up a decent pie for less than $3. Ironically, despite being an anti progress wannabe lobbiest organisation, these Arse Clowns don't share the same concerns. Look at the big picture, you fools!
Another blow for Melbourne's bums is State Planning Minister "Hullsy"'s plan to revamp Smith street in Collingwood into a shopping mecca complete with a whole fuck load of living space. Gone will be the $5 jugs of alleged Coopers ale. Gone will be the junkies basking under their favourite tree (which will surely go), and perhaps most importantly, gone will be the only bakery I'm yet to find in the whole of Melbourne which is able to bang up a decent pie for less than $3. Ironically, despite being an anti progress wannabe lobbiest organisation, these Arse Clowns don't share the same concerns. Look at the big picture, you fools!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
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