SF Lyons

Archive for July, 2006|Monthly archive page

BB56

In politics, pretends, talkies on July 10, 2006 at 9:15 pm

The Oldens have gone off their nuts about Big Brother again. They’re like spawning coral: the right combination of temperature, tide and a full moon and they all ejaculate in unison, completely muddying the water. A classic example is from the same time last year, when Roger Climpson, one of the great unburied dead of Australian television, cut loose on a Sunday feature story about him, Brian Henderson, and 50 glorious years of Channel 9 Oz TV. They were both asked towards the end of the piece what they thought of Big Brother. Hendo was clearly unimpressed but remained diplomatic. Climps, however – and, really, God bless him – didn’t hold back:

“I don’t like it at all. Cut or uncut. Sorry. I think the language is disgusting. I think what you’re allowed to see on television these days should not be allowed. I think the use of the 4-letter word is totally unnecessary. And I think that it’s having a very bad influence, I think, upon people’s general attitudes, certainly the younger people.”

Not like in his day.

50sTV

Roger “The Rodge” Climpson: Hi Ho, cats and chicks! Welcome to tonight’s Big Brother, the carayziest actuality programme sweeping Australia’s sitting rooms! It’s even doing a better job than your Mum! Haha. Just kidding, Mum!

It’s also the most controversial, ever since last week when we sent in a “New Australian” as an intruder. Marie (or “Maria” as she seems to like saying it) has caused plenty of complaints from viewers and newspaper commentators, particularly about her lack of petticoats and her tendency to go gloveless around the young men. But never fear, viewers: You can evict Marie by dialling 492378 and asking for extension 12. And with immigration officials keeping a close eye on her insolent cheek these past few days “Maria” could find herself on a boat back to Maltland very, very soon.

Well, the last 24 hours have seen some crazy stuff happening in the house. Big Brother made Marie the cook yesterday and the other girls weren’t happy from the get-go at being kept out of their natural domain. But the boys aren’t happy either, what with all the weird concoctions they’re being forced to eat:
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Bluey: What the flippin’ ‘eck is this?!
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Maria: Eet is called “Stuffat tal-Fenek“! Rubbit Stoo! Eat, Bluey! Is delicious! Will give you biiiiig muscles for shearing the sheeps, no?
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That’s bleedin’ right! NO!
He flings the plate at Maria’s head. She ducks. It smashes against the wall.
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NOW GET BACK IN THERE, WOMAN, AND COOK ME A FLIPPIN’ STEAK!!!
Rodge: Haha. Bluey certainly knows what he likes.
After lunch the girls are in the backyard doing their calisthenics. Less chatter, girls! Lift those knees!

calisthenics

Once they’re finished and back in the house the boys get their turn. While the other chaps have a hit of cricket, Savs and Curly do a workout with the medicine ball:
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Curly: So…umm…who are your favourite movie stars?…
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Savs: uhh…Robert Mitchum, I s’pose…John Wayne…Marlon Brando’s orright.
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I really like Montgomery Clift
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Right.
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Did you see him in A Place in the Sun? Amazing!
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Right…Elizabeth Taylor’s cute.
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Yeah…and Monty was in Red River – with John Wayne – too…
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Yep.
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…so…do you exercise a lot?…you look really fit…
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yeah…bit.
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…uhhh…do you like fitness magazines?…
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Not much… ‘s orright.
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…umm…okay. Fair enough…
So, anyway, I’ve been reading this really good book recently, It’s cal-
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You a poof or somethin’?
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What?! No!
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Hey, fellas! Curly’s a flippin’ queer!
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I’m not!
The boys abandon their game and stride over. Bluey brings the bat. Curly runs away until he reaches the back fence. There’s no escape. The lads surround him, beat him to the ground, and start kicking. When they’re sure he’s dead they toss his bloodied corpse into the swimming pool. They return to their game.
Rodge: Well, I do believe Curly has learnt to keep his sick feelings to himself from now on.
It’s tea-time, and newly-wed Pearl helps Marie with the cooking. Pearl’s been a bit quiet today after hubby, Cyril, exercised his conjugal rights last night. Meanwhile, Cyril and Pat have a heated political debate:
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Pat: I reckon keeping Evatt on as leader is Labor’s best hope for getting back on track after the split. The anti-communist scare-mongering of Menzies and his henchmen will keep working for a while, but-
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Cyril: What’s wrong with letting people know the Labor Party’s full of communists?
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Because it’s not. It’s a pack of lies. Caring about the rights of workers doesn’t make someone a communist.
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Of course it’s full of them! What about them blinkin’…Petrov people? And…Thingy
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The Petrovs aren’t in the Labor Party! They’re not even Australian!
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Too right they’re not Australian! Flippin’ commies!
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They’re Russian!
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Yeah, bleedin’ commies!
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No! They’re actual Russians! And they’re not even communists any more! They defected, you idiot! They’re on our side!
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On your side?! So you’re admitting you are a communist!
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(buries head in hands) Oh, for Christ’s sake…
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THIS IS BIG BROTHER. PATRICK: FOR TAKING THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN, THAT IS A 10 SHILLING FINE AND 12 HAIL MARYS.
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Oh, get F-
50s family TV closeup

Rodge: Well, that’s the programme for tonight, kids, and don’t forget to call and vote as many times as you like to evict either Patrick, Marie or Curly.

And, kids: also don’t forget to remind Mum she should stock up now on Nigger Brown nugget – Australia’s number one shoe polish. It’s neat! She also mustn’t forget Dad’s copy of The Bulletin, the nation’s top opinion-shaping current affairs journal, helping to preserve “Australia for the White Man“.

Cheerio, Guys and Dolls!

Dear Constable Super Goose,

In other on July 6, 2006 at 3:38 pm

Hi. How are you?

Internet cafes and public computers can be a real pain, can’t they? Uncomfortable chairs; cramped little cubicles; old, sticky keyboards; backpackers and their stupid accents and languages and sometimes even being fat; time limits that expire before you’ve finished looking at your webmail and you haven’t signed out…

Sometimes, though, they can be a thing of serendipitous joy, can give you a peek into a stranger’s life, such as when a slightly saucy photo intended for a lovers’ email is left in the pictures folder, or when someone leaves behind a floppy disc in the A drive and you get to check out an early draft of their super-secret military investigation, or when a member of the Victoria Police has been looking at his webmail, his time limit has expired and he leaves without realising that he hasn’t signed out:


From: “Super Goose” *
To: “Quimm”
Subject: RE: C*tyR*ils Tr*nsit Off*cers
Date: Sat, 1 Jul 2006 00:23:42 +1000

Quimmy,

In the book of 50 most worthless occupations, working for Passmore** is listed as entries 1 through to 7. I’m picturing a triple chinned ‘know-all’ dressed in a Homer Simpson moo moo.

Mind you, working for the useless NSW fat fuckwit you sent down to Victoria is listed as number 8.

Want her back?

Cheers,
Super Goose.

Internet cafes and public computers can be a real pain, can’t they?

I mean, somebody could discover your deathless swiftian satire and put it on the internet. Even someone fat, if they could ever squeeze their bloated arse and billowing moo moo through the doors. Hur hur hur.

You gormless, semi-literate cunt-with-a-gun.

Warmest regards,

SFL

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*Names and addresses have been changed to protect your correspondent.

**google won’t tell me who exactly Passmore is, but from the context I’d say he’s a knob at CityRail in Sydney.