SF Lyons

Archive for the ‘other’ Category

Of course News Corp wants the old government back…

In other, politics on December 6, 2009 at 2:17 pm

…but this could be a new low in wishful thinking and propaganda, even for them:

tony abbott challenges PM

Is this a sign of such renewed confidence that they think they can get all 1984 on us?


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


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?

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,



*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.

more than just “good”

In me, other on April 16, 2006 at 3:43 pm

During an email conversation to arrange Good Friday evening’s entertainment I mentioned to my friend that I was working in the bottleshop that day. She expressed her concern and suspicion that my employers weren’t God-fearing Christians. I pointed out that Easter is actually the most alcoholic of holidays: On Friday Jesus got hammered, Saturday he spent all day dead. Then he came back to life on Sunday but had to take Monday off as well. And even after that some of his friends weren’t quite sure if he was really there.

I thought this gag was really kind of obvious but she insisted I post it on my blog. Put something, anything, on my blog. So, there you go.

(Actually, I reckon J-Naz and the D12 had had a big Thursday as well. I mean they got picked up by the cops when they crashed in someone’s garden after a “supper”, and the main thing everyone remembered afterwards was drinking wine.)


Hinch Rumour Denied

In other, pretends, the funny on May 28, 2005 at 4:59 pm

Family and friends of the late radio announcer, Derryn Hinch, are said to be “sickened” by claims emerging today that Hinch was a fair and conscientious journalist.

“Nothing could be further from the truth” insisted 3AW stablemate, Neil Mitchell. “Behind the public image Derryn was identical to his public image. He really was a pompous attention-seeker. In fact, his great – his only – legacy to journalism in Australia down the years was to lower the standard for the rest of us. Having to live up to his lazy, but profitable, muck-raking example has made every reporter’s job that much easier: It’s all that’s expected of us.”

Mitchell acknowledged that the less observant members of the public who started the rumour could have been misled by Hinch’s frequent talk of a journalist’s responsibility to the truth, and by his insistence that he wasn’t simply out to attract listeners with his outrageous and offensive comments.

“But no-one who knew him could seriously accuse Derryn of giving a stuff about silly abstractions like Truth and Humility,” Mitchell said. “No, I mean, he even wasted his dying breath demanding a state funeral and insisting that Douglas Wood is guilty. An extraordinary cockache of a man, right to the very end.”

Another shocking rumour, about Hinch’s alleged sexual predilection for pre-pubescent Vietnamese boys, was greeted with shrugs by close friends.

“How do you think he got the hep B?” said one ex-wife and drinking partner. “It was an open secret for decades that Derryn had a taste for “Saigon Chicken” as he liked to call it – I mean, them. Any Saturday night you could find him down one or another dark alley in Footscray, balls deep in a twelve year old and holding a bag of glue over the kid’s face. He didn’t like them to struggle, you see. Effort wasn’t Derryn’s way, really, in any aspect of his life, personal or professional. Except when it came to keeping his dungeon stocked – I mean, wine cellar.”

This post was a response to Hinch’s spurious claim that Graham Kennedy had died of AIDS, made before his body was even cold. It had been an open secret for decades that Kennedy was gay, but Hinch treated it like he had a scoop. Well, he did, but it wasn’t a scoop of news – 19/3/10

Blue Blood Nut!

In other on October 22, 2004 at 12:25 pm

“You fucking wanker! Why are you fucking doing this!? Why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

Prince Harry attempts to appear of some use
Prince Harry attempts to appear of some use.

In indolent pothead news:

After a heavy night on the piss, swilling Long Island iced tea with peach juice, loutish young royal, Prince Harry, went the thump on fellow waste of space, paparazzi Chris Uncle. Actually, he just shoved the camera back in this arsehole’s face after having it shoved in his, expressed his feelings as honestly as he could (see above), then went home.

The part I liked most was the Dr. Strangelove-like comment from ‘an ex-SAS officer’: “Punching people in the street is not the sort of thing you expect from a prospective British army officer.” Well then, I’m looking forward to His Royal Highness pulling up his socks for his next engagement with the Gentlemen of the Press, when he responds with a volley of well-aimed hand grenades, picks off the fleeing survivors with disciplined machine-gun fire, then single-mindedly stalks The Night with a bloodied strand of piano wire, hunting down their superior officers one by one.

He’ll be doin’ his Nation and his Mamma proud.


Cheap-shot just in: the Mirror article linked to above says: “The car finally sped away, with Harry burying his head in his knees”. Probably sneaking a bucket bong.