Monthly Archives: July 2015

Anyone for a EUROPEAN VACATION?

With all of the politics dramas on in the AFL, our Italian Correspondents BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV suggest a VACATION to get away from it all.

vacation

I tend to agree…let’s go!

The McLachlan family competes on Australia’s favourite game show – Family Feud and wins an all expenses paid trip to Europe.

Actually truth is known that “McMoron” bribed the host – Grant Denyer and the producer of the game show during the ad break just before the segment of fast money was about to air.
Convincing Denyer and the producer to rig the final results at the end of the show in exchange for a lifetime free membership to their AFL clubs they each support.

After winning a European holiday, Gillon “McMoron” McLachlan convinces his reluctant family to accompany him. His wife Laura “The Mrs.” is delighted, as for their children Edie, Sydney and Cleo are not at all keen to be travelling side by side with their snotty parents.
In a whirlwind tour of Western Europe, chaos of all sorts ensues.
Complimentary accommodation thanks to the producers of Family Feud, the McLachlan family stays in a fleabag infested London hotel – The Stinky Pheasant with a sloppy, tattooed Cockney clerk as their inhospitable and unfriendly host.
While in their English rental car, a vintage canary yellow 1985 Austin Maxi, McMoron drives his poor family endlessly around the busy Lambeth Bridge roundabout for hours, unable to maneuver his way out of traffic.
Gillon has only just realized that he had totally forgot to submit his footy tips for round 17 and was frantically trying to locate a suitable Wi-Fi connection for his iPad. His wife Laura just before take off has confiscated his beloved iWatch, in the hope that he will pay some affectionate attention to his own family for a change.

Hawthorn

Nervously approaching the Hotel Manager at front reception, in definition the Manager had a huge scar right across his forehead, wearing a soiled singlet, sculling beer, and looked as though he hasn’t had a wash in months. McMoron twisting his nose, his wife Laura understandably kept her distance covering her mouth with a handkerchief, Gillon asked the following: “Excuse me sir, I need to place my footy tips in quickly. Do you have any Wi-Fi in this hotel?”
The Hotel Manager speaking very quickly in a heavy English accent grunted: “You’re scuppered mate, this place is full of macaroons, of course I could get on the dog and bone and call my friend down White Chapel way”.
Gillon unable to understand what the Hotel manager is saying, foolishly he begins to activate his translation device from his iPhone app.
“Gill! Just get it over and done with! Bloody well put down Hawthorn.” Laura yelled eager to exit the hotel; the stench from the Hotel Manager was now creeping towards the couple.

Geelong

“Gillon, you’re driving on the wrong side of the road!” Laura panicked.
Clearly embarrassed, McMoron confessing: “Yes I know. I’m also on the wrong side of the car.” Adding: “Where we’re heading? Did you left our itinerary back at the hotel?”
“I would rather walk from London to Geelong on foot than go back inside that Hotel seeing and smelling that odious oaf of a Manager. You want the itinerary, get it yourself!” Roared Laura.

Adelaide

The McLachlan’s are visiting Buckingham Palace much to the dismay of his three children who were visibly bored and just wanted play games on their ipads instead.
Hopelessly Laura is trying to control her spoilt and overbearing brats, Gillon sipping his fourth glass of South Australian Penfolds limited edition Grange Hermitage Bin 95, once again Gillon bribed from a nearby pub – The Buckingham Arms, slurring: “Aw, there’s the Buck House kids, that’s where the Queen lives and vacuums”.
Baffled Laura questions: “What does she do?”
Already drunk, shrugging his shoulders, Gillon confirm: “She Queens, and she vacuums.”

Fremantle

Checking out of their flea infested London Hotel – The Stinky Pheasant, the brute of the Hotel Manager threw out all their belongings out into the middle of the street after Gillon tipped him with just one measly penny. Shoving his heavy-duty underpants into his already over cramped suitcase, Gillon was furious instituting: “If I get any more smarmy attitude from Ross (Rampaging) Lyon when I get back home, I will do exactly what happened to me today to his beloved Dockers”.
“Darling, It’s not Ross’s fault, he’s not even here.” Soothed his wife.
“Well that bloody feral Hotel Manager looks and smells like him, I have to take it out on some one.” Raged Gillon.

Port Adelaide

Arriving in Paris, the McLachlan’s wastes no time, according to McMoron, the only way to sight see around Paris is Gillon’s way not with a guided tour; complete waste of money.
A pompous Gillon announces: “There’s the left bank kids. I bet you can’t guess what bank is on the right.”
Laura enraged, kicks Gillon hard shouting: “The Bank of Kinky Hinkley!”

North Melbourne

In a small German village, Gillon is looking for his distant relatives house; he has been googling Ancestry.com and he seems to think he has hit the jackpot. Arriving at the door step of the cottage, Mr Fritz Spritz and his wife Helga Spritz were stunned to see the McLachlan’s at the their door step with a box of chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers.
In very bad German Gillon stuttered: “Hallo, schön Dich kennen zu lernen.”
Hello, nice to meet you.
Adding: “We’re from Melbourne Australia. I believe we are related. Can we come in?”
In perfect English, Fritz Spritz spat back: “No! We are not related! Hop back to Australia and leave us alone!”

Western Bulldogs

Disappointed with the so-called family reunion in Germany, the McLachlan’s next stop was in Austria, Laura wanted to see the Von Trapp house and visit the hills in Salzburg.
Driving along in their rented vintage Austin Maxi, Gillon and his Mrs. sang out loud: “The hills are alive with the sound of McLachlan’s”.
Blocking her ears, Edie McLachlan grumbled: “The Bulldogs players singing their club theme song have better voices than you two.”
Melbourne

“Ah! Bellissima Italia. Do you remember when we first got married we strolled along the Spanish steps, how romantic.” Crooned Laura.
“Yeah, I’ll never forget it. I actually fell down and broke my leg and was sent back to Melbourne shortly after. Nothing sentimental about that Laura!” Whined McMoron.

West Coast Eagles

“This it kids, the famous Coliseum, the Amphitheatre right in the centre of the city of Rome. What I would give to see West Coast Eagles and Shitney battle it out in gladiatorial contest and public spectacle in ripping each other apart. A battle of epic proportions.” Gillon revealed excitedly.

After a week in Europe, upon McMoron’s insistence they all head back to Austria for the annual summer dance festival that takes place twice each week during the months of July and August. The idiot abroad – McMoron participates in the traditional Austrian folk dance, which features traditional Austrian costumes and some knee slapping, with his poor wife and kids horrifically looking on.

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MORE? How about a taste of AFL OLIVER…

Do you want some MORE tipsters?

Our Italian Correspondents BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV think so.

That is why they are giving us a taste of AFL this week to the tune of OLIVER

OLIVER

The Yorkshire brewery is currently being used as a workhouse.
Situated in Wellington Street Collingwood, the former brewery has notable features consisting of a huge Romanesque and second empire combination tower that feature polychrome brickwork.
This once grandeur building is now sadly abandoned, in a derelict state making it a perfect district to house the down and outs of the notable figures of the AFL.
The Yorkshire Brewery workhouse is an unforgiving place where those who are now considered used goods by the AFL are now unable to support themselves financially. Free accommodation, food and employment are offered to those unfortunates and in great need.
Managed by Fagin – Kevin “Reviewing His Situation” Sheedy as the governor of this squalid set up, who is also their leader. He teaches his apprentices’ to make a living by pick pocketing in exchange for food and a roof over their heads. This skill requires considerable dexterity as well as tenacity.
Fagin’s faithful novices are The Artful Dodger – Mark ”Bomber” Thompson, Bill Sykes – Mick “Mea Culpa” Malthouse one of Fagin’s old pupils along with his pit-bull dog Bulls-Eye, last but not least Oliver- Guy “Macca” McKenna.
Learning their skills by the masterful Fagin, his three apprentices’ spent the entire morning; afternoon and the early evening doing their rounds, stealing money and valuables from the locals without them noticing that the theft had just taken place.
Miserably drenched, cold with the below freezing temperature accompanied by the biting Antarctic vortex that is hovering all over Melbourne, the three apprentices were ravenous for some food. Exhausted by their burdensome task, they all retreat back to their run-down workhouse for some meals on wheels, cheap cask wine scrutinizing this long-winded tedious never-ending round of football.

North Melbourne

Sneaking out from one of the dingy rooms, “Fagin” – Kevin Sheedy’s in definition his grimy face, matted red hair, pointy beard, hooked nose, draped with his signature emerald color velvet coat, black top hat, accompanied with black ill fitting pants, a rope tied around his waist as a belt, along with his pointy witchy pooh shoes. Fagin smiled sleazily with his horse like decaying teeth to his terrified apprentices. Waving his grubby fingers wearing his brown filthy fingerless gloves states the following:
“My dears, which coach do you want to pick a pocket or two after the game eh?”
“Unquestionably Brad “Beam Me Where? Scotty” Scott. That dingbat has bloody attitude, he’s too cocky for my liking!” Spat out a very resentful “Oliver” – Guy “Macca” McKenna angrily viewing the coach box on the 1977 vintage Panasonic Black and white analogue television set as the night match at Etihad Stadium was just about to kick off.

Geelong

“Fagin” – Kevin Sheedy puffing on his long pipe, blows a perfect circle of smoke, poetically lectures the following to his three bandits. “Can someone change? It’s possible – maybe it’s strange, but it’s possible. All my dearest companions and treasures, I’ve left them behind.
I’ll turn a leaf over and who can tell what I might find?”
Fagin turns around where “The Artful Dodger” – Mark ‘Bomber” Thompson suddenly appears.
“Yes? Young man? And do I have the honor of your acquaintance?” Fagin enquired.
Dodger shows Fagin a wallet he has just stolen.
“Lined?” Fagin asked curiously running his soiled fingers over the wallet.
Dodger smiling: “Only the best! Lovely workmanship, aint it?
“Throughout the time that twat Chris “Beam Me Down Scotty” Scott was bending down at the car park near Simonds Stadium searching for his car keys, that’s when I seized the perfect opportunity.”
Fagin carefully takes the wallet, looks inside grinning devilishly. Inside the wallet there are rods of cash and multiple credit cards.

GWS (Yup! Still Slobs!)

“What a team!” Fagin – Kevin Sheedy declares to his followers as he was dancing around in a circle with a glass of wine in his hand. Gloating: “For your talents are employable, so make you life enjoyable, a world with pockets open wide awaits your whim to grope inside.”
Fagin spills his cheap wine on Bill Sykes’ top hat – Mick “Mea Culpa” Malthouse while his vicious pit-bull dog Bulls-eye is barking furiously at Fagin trying to bite his ankle.
“You’re a fine one to make a friend of!” Bill Sykes threatened with his giant fist ready.
Nervously Fagin drags Sykes away from the others: “We must have civil words, Bill. Civil words.”
“I have instructed the lads to lock Leon (King of Leon) Cameron down here in the basement what used to be the stables. Here are Leo’s wallet and car keys. Now leave me alone Sykes!” Pleaded Fagin.

West Coast Eagles

Dreadfully missing his coaching duties, The Artful Dodger – Mark “Bomber” Thompson has an explicit directive already passed on to Adam “Go West! Simpson via Bill Sykes – Mick “Mea Culpa” Malthouse: “There’s an expression of melancholy in Adam’s face, which is very interesting. He’d make a delightful mute.” Sykes sniggered with Fagin along with his apprentices’ sneering.

Shitney

Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse was in a filthy mood with Shitney’s unbelievable stroke of luck so far this season, sitting currently at number four on the AFL ladder. Sykes was swearing and taunting everyone in his sight. Fagin – Kevin Sheedy cautiously puts his hand on Bill’s shoulder to comfort or most likely belittle him.
Fagin – Kevin Sheedy risking a permanent injury: “You’re like yourself tonight, Bill, quite like yourself.”
Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse gritting his stained teeth seethes: “Well I don’t feel like myself when you lay that wicked old claw on my shoulder, so take it away!”

Fremantle

“Please Sir! Ross “Rampaging” Lyon wants to win some more!” Mimicked Oliver – Guy “Macca” McKenna on bended knees handing over an empty cardboard bowl of “Fantastic” Noodles” to Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse. Fagin – Kevin Sheedy and the Artful Dodger – Bomber Thompson looked on rolling their eyes.
Sykes pit-bull dog Bulls-eye lifted his leg urinating on an unsuspecting Bomber Thompson’s shoe.
Melbourne

In the midst with Paul “Lose” Roos and his cowardly Demons lack-luster performance to date, Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse maliciously sends a tweet via a twitter account under the user name of @loseroos2015 tweeting the following: “Cry your hardest now, it opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes and softens down the temper. So cry away”.

Adelaide

“I’ve stolen some of the Crows’ belongings while the players were all out on the lawns of Adelaide Oval training”. Fagin – Kevin Sheedy cheered.
The Artful Dodger Bomber Thompson was stunned, Oliver – Guy McKenna could not believe what the he just heard! Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse with his pit-bull dog Bulls-eye by his side ready to pounce on a visibly petrified Fagin, slowly walked over to Fagin, his cold dark eyes could easily penetrate a brick wall certified: “Somehow I feel you and I are going to be good friends.”

Richmond

“Frankly my dear companions, it seems to me there is light enough for Richmond to win these misfits. I don’t know the Tigers nor did I ever belong to them. I’ve got to do what a business man must do.”
The Artful Dodger – Bomber Thompson and Oliver – Guy McKenna were already suspicious of Fagin clinging on to the wooden box as if his life depended on it.
“A man has a heart doesn’t he? I’m reviewing the situation.” Confessed Fagin – Kevin Sheedy as he was carefully making his way towards the front door of the Yorkshire brewery carrying the huge wooden box of all the treasures and gold coins.
“Fair or not fair, give it ‘ere you avaricious old skeleton!” Screamed Bill Sykes – Mick Malthouse. “Bulls-eye!” Commanded Bill Sykes unleashing his pit-bull dog Bulls-eye chasing Fagin – Sheedy down the dimly lit darkened, muddy lane ways in Wellington Street.

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Joe Daniher’s Mo

Please share with me your opinions of

JOE DANIHER’s MO

joe

joe2

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The Flinstones…Giro Numero Qiundici…(Round 15)…

Yabba Dabba Doo!

Our Italian Correspondents BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV believe some of the Brick Headed AFL Players should have their mouths cemented shut and have Called in Fred and Barney of the FLINTSTONES to assist…

fred

Fred Flintstone, head bronto-honcho and crane operator at the stone Quarry Cave – The Slate Rock and Gravel Company grabs his best mate and work colleague who also happens to be his next door neighbour – Barney Rubble for their usual Thursday night drinks at their local watering hole, a men-only club called “The Loyal Order of the Moose”.
Customarily to debate the current state of AFL football and most importantly to chisel down their weekly footy tips on their tablets made out of stone.
Just a ten-minute car ride from the outskirts of Bedrock in Fred’s brand new Ford Flintstone mobile, which features convertible doors and roof made out of dinosaur’s ribs, Fred purchased the car at a bargain price for only 400 stone chips!
What better way to drive around in his new flashy Dino convertible in central Bedrock city with the onlookers of his work colleagues and friends staring in absolute envy.
Displaying their members’ card at the doorman, Fred and Barney quickly found a table, ordered their beers, wild berries and nuts.
Both men quickly began chiseling away their tips on to the stone tablet.

Collingmaguirevomitshitwood

“Hey Fred, have you heard the latest about this one, Dane Swan and his mate got mistaken as bikies because of Dane’s extensive tattoos and his friend Gerrard Bennett wearing a hoodie. I just happen to read it this morning on the Daily Slab. What a bunch of rock heads.” Laughed Barney.

Carlton

Seeing an assembled mastodon skeleton after sneaking into one of the many exclusive entrance members hall, in particular Carlton Executives and Board Members Only at the club.
Barney Rubble bewildered came back to the table scratching his head confirming to his buddy: “Your suspicions were correct, Fred. There he is Mark (Mambo Italiano) Loguidice with his outside removed.”
Spitting out his beer just missing Barney, Fred giggled: “That’s not Mark; that’s a mastodon.”
Barney Rubble confused: “A whats-a-don?”
Fred Flintstone: “A big fat thing, with a lumpy body, thick stumpy legs, a long nose, floppy ears and tusks.”
Barney Rubble: “Sounds and looks like Mark Loguidice to me.”

Melbourne

Chiseling away with his next tips, Barney was a little hesitant: “Do you think Paul (Lose) Roos and his Demons can win this contest? Seeing that the Dons are in a rock and hard place at the moment?”
“How can you be so stupid?” Snapped Fred.
Poor Barney clearly upset sniffed: “That’s not very nice. Say you’re sorry.”
Munching on his burger, loosening his electric blue tie, Fred spat out: “I’m sorry you’re stupid.” Fred was so incensed that half of his dino burger ended up dribbling down on to his designer bright orange black poker dots leather shirt.

Western Bulldogs

Ordering another meal at the pub, the head chef Pot Rock dumps a massive bowl of soup to Fred and Barney.
Fred twisting his nose: “What is it?”
Chef Pot Rock: “Alphabet soup, my specialty.”
Fred: “Alphabet soup?”
Barney: “Sure, Fred, you twirl it around and sometimes it makes words.”
The letters in the soup began forming letters, spelling G-A-R-Y-A-B-L-E-T-T
“Uh Fred”, Barney began to panic. “Do you think we should eat it?”
“Well sure, why not?” Fred Scoffed, unaffected as to what had just happened.
Barney began to tremble: “Well if anything happens to Flintstone, everything goes to the servants, right?”
Fred shrugging: “Yeah, I remember. Hey Barney look! The alphabet soup is trying to tell us something! B-E-W-A-R-E!”
Barney tugging at Fred’s shirt: “You better do what it says, Fred…look!”
(Chef Pot Rock charges towards Fred Flintstone with a cleaver.)

Geelong

“The volcano of the Scotty twins is gunna erupt any minute. I can already see the volcanic ashes spewing from out of both of their clubs. What do you say Fred, Geelong?” Barney Rubble quizzed excitedly.
“You reckon?” Fred wasn’t buying any of it.
“Well I’m going for the better looking twin, Chris”. Barney settled chiseling away on his stone tablet.
“You gravel head.” Fred fumed whacking Barney across the head hard with his chisel.

West Coast Eagles

Eating his second ginormous dino burger, Barney began to worry: “You know Fred, I hear that eatin’ too much red meat is bad for you. Why don’t you start eating birds, like a “Haast’s Eagle”, much healthier for you Fred.”
“What a load of bunk! My father ate it every day of his life and he lived to the ripe old age of thirty-eight.” Fred Scoffed.

GWS (Yup! Still Slobs)

“Barney look at this, this lava head, Toby Greene reckons he had no intentions of spitting at his mate, can you believe it? I’m not sure about this one”. Concluded Fred.
“But Fred, I’ve already hammered in Greater Western Sydney, I’m running out of room with my tablet, how am I going to chip in St. Kilda?” Confessed Barney, exhausted by his effort.
“Take it easy Barn, all you had to do was just chisel GWS, we’ll stick with this one, you better hope they win or else?” Fred threatened.

Fremantle

“Say Fred, aint it time for the big fight between those two fossils, Ross the “Tyrannosaurs” Lyon and that Hawk looking dinosaur, Alistair the “Titanis Walleri” Clarkson?” Barney was jumping up and down.
“Hey-hey, I’m glad you remembered Barn! You fix the chairs, I’ll order more beers and popcorn”. Fred confirmed.
“I didn’t know there was a fight scheduled.” Questioned the barman Henry Metal rolling in kegs of beer at their table. Adding: “Is it heavy weight or light weight?
“Who cares? This will be a real grudge bout.” Smiled Fred rubbing his hands together.

Shitney

Returning from the men’s bathroom, Fred bumps into John ” Weirdly Gruesome” (Here’s Johnny!) Longmire.
“Hello, Mr. Flintstone, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Gruesome.” Winked Longmire.
Fred shaking Longmire’s hands reluctantly: ‘Yeah, you are, sort of. But knowing it, is half the battle.”
Longmire leaning over, flashing his decaying teeth: “You can call me Weirdly.”
“I was just about to do that.” Replied Fred walking away in disgust, yelling out for everyone to hear, “Yabba Dabba Doo!”

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The Commitments…Giro Numero Quattordici…(Round 14)…‏

This one proves the commitments our Italian Correspondents BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV have for the DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP as they battle with the Committments of the AFL…

commitments

Two old sporting opponents Rodney (Rocket) Eade and Justin (Lipstick) Leppitsch get together to form a band, seeing that both their clubs, Gold Coast Bums and the Brisbane Lions have not committed themselves in playing any decent footy so far this season.
Rodney and Justin soon realize that they don’t know enough about the music business to get much further than their small network of football colleagues within the AFL league.
To solve this problem, they recruit an old friend they have known since their playing days with the Brisbane Bears/Lions to be their manager – John (Barky) Barker.
He accepts graciously, but only if he can make fundamental changes to the group, the first is the sacking of any member and the second naming the band.
The newly appointed manager – John instantly calls the group “The Commitments” because according to John all the good 60’s bands started with a “The”.
Most importantly what the footy world needs is to be revolutionized.
John clearly points out to Eade and Leppitsch: “Yes Lads, you’ll be playing Melbourne Soul.”
One evening, John witnesses Kevin (I’m Not Sorry Now!) Sheedy singing drunkenly into a microphone at a friend’s wedding and is struck by the fact that big Kev is singing something that is approximating music.
This is where John decides to go look for Sheedy and that the band should play soul music.
John places an ad in the local paper and on the AFL Internet site reading the following:
“Have you got soul? Then Melbourne’s hardest working band is looking for you.”

Shitney

Buddy (The Sheikh) Franklin could not resist in rocking up at the audition, pretty much out of spite at the Woolshed Pub – Docklands. The audition took place in the fireside room with Eade, Leppitsch and a very angry Barker looking on.
“Is this the band then? Betcha U2 are shittin’ themselves”. Laughed Buddy. “So what’s the name of the band?”
“Commitments”. Snapped Rodney Eade.
“Commitments?” Buddy seemed puzzled.
“It’s a “the”. Barked Justin Leppitsch.
“How do you spell it?” Inquired Buddy.
Rolling his eyes, John Barker leaned forward towards Buddy yelling: “ T-H-E-“

Hawthorn

John, Justin and Rodney stared at each other in astonishment as Alistair (Angry Little Man) Clarkson casually walked inside the Woolshed heading towards their way.
The band manager John took no chances and asked Alistair outright the following:
John: “What do you play?”
Alistair: “I used to play football.”
Justin had to step in: “I mean, what instrument?”
Alistair shrugging his shoulders: “I don’t.”
Rodney could see that this was going absolutely nowhere: “What are you doing here, then?”
Alistair sculling his lager admitted: “Well, I saw everyone else lining up, so uh – I thought you were giving out free beer.”

Richmond

Approaching the Woolshed heading towards the fireside room, from a distance Damien (Hardly) Hardwick could see John, Justin and Rodney deeply troubled. Damien was in hysterics, shoving the advertisment in their faces, he sniggered: “What a bunch of idiots! The Commitments. I’ve got a name for your stupid band, how about The Rejects.”
Rodney grabbed Damien in a headlock, threatening: “As for you George Michael, you ever call us a bunch of idiots again, you’ll go home with these drumsticks up your hole…the one you don’t sing out of.”

North Melbourne

“Hey fellas I can do a good Elvis.” Brad (Beam Me Where? Scotty) Scott plonked himself on the couch at the Woolshed Pub, serenading all three (Justin, John and Rodney) with a piece of John Barker’s ciabatta bread as a microphone: “Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight?”
“Elvis is not soul.” Snapped the band manager – John Barker.
Defensively Rodney Eade justified: “Elvis is God!”
“I have never pictured God with a fat gut and corset singing “My Way” in Caesar’s Palace.” Justin quipped escorting Brad who was now munching on John’s ciabatta bread to the back door of the pub.

Carlton

John Barker was anxious that the big man he had witnessed singing at his friend’s wedding the weekend before has not bothered to show up for the audition, despite the advertisement.
“He’s probably not interested, besides (about Kevin Sheedy) he eats like a pig.” Lamented Justin.
“He’s moron, I don’t like him not one teensy bit.” Whined Rodney.
“Hasn’t got the voice of a pig though. I reckon it belongs to God.” Affirmed the band manager John.
Rodney scoffed: “God should ask for it back.”

West Coast Eagles

John, Justin and Rodney have been auditioning unimpressive musicians all day at the pub, when out of nowhere Adam (Go West) Simpson walked towards the three gentlemen, strumming his acoustic guitar singing out loud a Smiths classic much to the annoyance of the other patrons: “I was happy in the haze, of a drunken hour, but heaven knows I’m miserable now…”
“Yeah, I know how you feel.” Sighed John clearly wondering why he had even bothered in the first place with auditioning for a band.
St Kilda

Cross-examining John, Alan (You Can Call Me Al) Richardson interrogated: “Who are you then? Are you the one that’s starting the band?” Alan took out his saxophone and began playing a few tunes. Justin and Rodney were silently impressed, keeping their excitement to themselves as John was at the end of his tether.
“The name is Alan “The Lips” Richardson.” Confirmed Al.
“And I’m John “The Bollocks” Barker.” replying sarcastically.
“I get mine from my horn playing. How’d you get yours?” Chuckled Alan.
“Don’t get snotty with me?” An offensive John retorted.
Walking away playing his saxophone, Alan briefly stopped, turned around, looking straight into John’s eyes and said: “I get snotty with no man.”
Alan walked off playing his saxophone, departing the Woolshed pub.

Fremantle

Ross (Rampaging) Lyon came in the pub for some friendly advice for the three men. Sitting down by the fire to warm himself, he suggested to John, Justin and Rodney a name change for the band.
Suppressing his laughter Lyon proposed: “I like A Flock of Budgies.”
“Get outta here!” Screeched John, Justin and Rodney, throwing a bowl full of beer nuts at Ross.
John was over it, no sign of big Kev (Sheedy) he failed to show up at the audition.
Rodney Eade puts a sympathetic arm around John Barker soothing him with the following:
“I know you’re hurting now, but in time you realize what you have achieved.
“I’ve achieved nothing!” Screamed John.
“You’re missing the point mate.” Justin calmly continued: “The success of the band is irrelevant, you raised expectations, lifted horizons, sure we could have been famous but that would have been predictable. This way it’s poetry.”

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The Rocky Horror Show…Giro Numero Tredici…(Round 13)…

Our Italian Correspondents BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV have gone all tranny on us and delight us with a touch of Rock E Horror AFL… See what happens when Jim E Heard stumbles on the Castle of Frank N. Furter…

rocky

Jimbo (The Vanishing Man) Hirdy and his autocratic and overbearing missus – Tania (Mania) Hird decided to go on leave somewhere in Europe for a short break as “It’s a long season, it’s a scheduled break.”
The master and his mistress of the Universe (Jimbo and Tania) really don’t think it is any big of a deal and certainly no one’s business to justify their sudden departure as such.
According to Jimbo, his leave has been approved. Yeah right!
Jimbo has been sent abroad to finish his business administration course (Pfffttt!!!) at the world-renowned business school – “INSEAD” which actually stands for – Idiot, Numbskull, Smug, Egotist, Arrogant, Dunce school of fraudsters.
Hirdy couldn’t give a monkeys’ about the current state of his depleted Bombers, leaving it to his assistant coaches’ to adequately take care of the poor lads during his impromptu absence.
Arriving at Charles Du Galle Airport – France, the so-called Beckham’s of AFL football, collected their luggage from the carousel, both instantly snapping their fingers demanding immediate service from the airport staff.
At the europcar rental desk, his and her majesty hired a brand new Peugeot 308 model to take them to their rented 1825 classical mansion – “Chateau Bonas” an hour away from central Paris.
During their drive, the Parisian skies converted into dark heavy pendulous storm clouds, within minutes it was pouring with torrential rain.
Tania began bickering bitterly with Jimbo, whilst he was struggling to drive the car safely as the visibility was now less than one metre.
With no mobile phone coverage, in the middle of nowhere, suddenly there was a loud bang, their prized Peugeot 308 ended up with a flat tyre.
“Dammit Tania! For Christ sake! Calm down! I need to get to a bloody phone, we need help.” Jimbo soothed.
Jimbo’s tyrannical wife was crying and having a hissy fit. She had enough eye-make to make a panda laugh; now she looked like a drowned rat.

Fremantle

Approaching a very Gothic looking castle close by, Jimbo knocked on the door hoping to find some one home. After a few attempts of knocking, Jimbo and Tania let themselves in.
Appearing out of nowhere, a man resembling the hunch back of Notre Dame, eventually said in a unfriendly voice grunted: “Hello.”
Jimbo: “Um…Yeah G’Day. My name is James Hird, and this is my wife Tania.
“We were wondering if you could help us. You see, our car broke down a few kilometers up the road…do you have a phone that we can use?” Tania shuddered by the man’s (Riff Raff) creepy zombie like appearance.
“You’re wet.” Riff Raff abruptly responded, scanning the couple up and down.
“Yes it’s rrraining.” Tania stammered.
Carelessly whispering in Jimbo’s ear, Tania snickered: “Doesn’t he look a bit like Ross (Rampaging) Lyon?” The stranger (Riff Raff) rudely cut her short in mid sentence.
“Yes…I think perhaps you better both come inside”.

Shitney

Mania Tania, obviously out of her comfort zone, whined: “What kind of place is this?”
“Oh, It’s probably some kind of hunting lodge for rich weirdo’s. This setup would definitely suit John (Here’s Johnny!) Longmire and his pretentious ugly Swans”. Jimbo ridiculed.

Hawthorn

“This way.” Snarled Riff Raff, forcefully pushing them in to the main ballroom where a celebration was already in full progress.
“Are you having a party?” Jimbo foolishly quizzed Riff Raff.
Riff Raff’s spooky looking sister Magenta, dressed as a maid, coerced the couple with her index finger to follow her as she purred: “You have both arrived on a rather special night.
It’s one of the Master’s affairs”.
“His name wouldn’t happen to be Alistair would it?” Jimbo trying to make light of the awkward situation they were in, he was now feeling scared.
Riff Raff was too occupied ogling at mania Tania to even take notice of what had just come out of Hirdy’s mouth.

Adelaide

Tania breaking away from Riff Raff’s sleazy vicious glare, cowered behind her beloved Jimbo, trembling she cautiously responded: “Oh, how lucky for your Master”.
Wickedly laughing in that high pitched, ear splitting sound, like a giant Crow, Magenta swooped across to a very anxious Jimbo, and Tania by this stage was fighting back tears. Magenta excitedly clapped her hands, hissing: “You’re lucky, he’s lucky, I’m lucky, we’re all lucky!….Ha! Ha! Ha!….”

Western Bulldogs

The distinctive sound of the antique traction elevator with it’s opening doors came sliding down. Tania saw the towering figure inside the lift, too shocked and scared to even scream, she eventually passed out.
Draped in a black silk cloak, wearing ghoulish make-up, platform stilettos with glittering heels, casually the tall figure with curly black hair, slid the lift doors wide open revealing himself: “Please to meet you. How d’you do. I see you’ve met my faithful handyman.
(Dr. Frank-N-Furter winking at Riff Raff.)
He’s just a little brought down because when you knocked, he thought you were the candy man. Don’t get strung out by the way Iook. Don’t judge a book by its cover. So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound, you look like you’re both pretty groovy.”
(Dr. Frank –N-Furter twisting his lower lip in disgust at Magenta, Riff Raff and his loyal guests.)
Bravely, interjecting Dr. Frank-N-Furter as he was admiring his love heart tattoo on his upper arm, Jimbo requested: “I’m glad we caught you at home, could we use your phone? We’re both in a bit of a hurry. We’ll just say where we are, then go back in the car. We don’t want to be any worry.”
Carlton

Dr. Frank-N-Furter laughed menacingly at the both of them, reassuringly insisting with the following: “So you got caught with a flat, well, how about that? Well babies, don’t you panic. By the light of the night when it seems alright, I’ll get you a satanic mechanic.”
“I’m just a sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.”

Satisfied with his introduction, the master himself, Dr. Frank-N-Furter invited Jimbo and Tania to the grand festivity.
“Now I’ll get the lovely Magenta and Riff Raff to take you to both down stairs into the ballroom. You are both most welcome to join in my celebration. I encourage you both to dance and sing along as well.”

Elegantly tossing his black mane of curly hair, Dr. Frank-N-Furter laughed wickedly as he walked passed a weary Jimbo and a petrified Tania as he headed back into the lift making his way back to his laboratory.

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