Okay, I’m going to come right out and say it. I’m a cyclist. That’s right, I’m a fucking maniac. I did say cyclist and not terrorist, although I believe the difference is only slight. Every day, I jump on my suicide machine and let people who obviously found their driver’s licence in a breakfast cereal box, “share” the road with me.

Let me explain “share”, it’s an interesting concept for your average Melbourne motorist. Picture a normal 3 year old who notices someone handle any one of their million toys.

“Waaaaaaaah… MINE!” *snatch*

Now if you take that 3 year old and fast forward 15+ years, they’re now behind the wheel of that toy… now a two tonne death machine.. only their mental capacity remains the same.

“Waaaaaah… THAT ROAD IS MINE!” *honk* *bash* *bird*

In establishing why cyclists are endangered species, my interviews with motorists have revealed a common theme. “I pay my fucking taxes, therefore this is my road, you shouldn’t be here… fuck you.” Read the rest of this entry »




Let’s face it, in most offices, mental instability is a prerequisite. Everywhere you look, people are sitting around, getting screwed over and politely smiling about it. It’s not the classic “kill all humans” type of crazy, but it’s not far off. Of course, this demeanour of defeat is fully justified since if we don’t do as we’re told, we get fired and die as a hobo. “But you can always get another job!” I hear you say. God I hate optimists like you. NO… most of these people are practically unemployable. Years of laying low, also means years without training in positions that would be otherwise redundant if management were forced to investigate why you weren’t smiling politely. Read the rest of this entry »


In the beginning, dinosaurs defecated all over the earth. Actually, it was probably a few billion years after the beginning, but what’s a few billion years between religious friends? Anyway, it was a tumultuous time. Particularly because the bigger dinosaurs had quite an appetite and consequently, quite a sizeable bowel movement. To put it into context, in today’s terms, we’re talking a turd the size of a Volvo and quite likely just as uncomfortable to find yourself passing.

Fortunately for the world, a cataclysmic event eradicated the problem. Only time will tell if the same type of event will eradicate Volvo’s, but that’s another story. Read the rest of this entry »

Apparently there are two kinds of people in the world at the moment. People who like to Poke-a-man and those that want to slap people that like to Poke-a-man. I’m in the latter group.

Having grown up in the era when “the net” was something a family used to fish for dinner, I admit I’m not entirely switched on when it comes to uploading my contact lenses to an eye-Cloud. I really don’t want to know why people put photos on Pee-interest, I like my cookies in hurtful reality and I most certainly have no intention of poking a man.

When a kid explained the new craze to me, I lost that last little bit of hope I had for humanity, then promptly smacked him with my walking stick. His explanation went something like… he collects virtual candy and stardust so he can accumulate poke-a-mans that he can only see when he looks through his phone or when he is high on cocaine. There was no ultimate goal as such, it was just kind of a way of using up free time until he dies or loses his internet connection, which is apparently the same thing.

I can only relate it to my long dead friends who used to collect baseball and football cards. You know the cards, the glossy smiling moustache wearing sexy athletic Joe “Smack-em” Smith, complete with stats including his 546 successful tackles and 35 sexual harassment lawsuits in 1986. Retired in 1987 with a score of 12 STDs and a healthy addiction for strawberry shortcake dolls. Read the rest of this entry »


As a kid in school, I learnt early on that my skills as a class clown didn’t translate to “The Colosseum” (the football oval behind the shelter sheds, the usual choice of venue for school fights).  While I was quick with smart ass retorts, I wasn’t so quick with my right hook. For some reason, the average bully was more interested in punching my face than entering a verbal jousting match in responding to my suggestion that they explore their inner feelings of abandonment and confusion over their sexuality, in a public forum. Read the rest of this entry »


Now what I’m about to say might offend people *fingers crossed*. So I’ll start with this disclaimer. I love animals. Take cows for example. I love the silly colours they come in, I like their cute vocal “moo,” I like the way they scare easily and I especially love the way they smell on a BBQ and that delicious taste in my mouth. I guess a lot of cute furry animals could come under the above description. However, recently I came across a “hunter” who preceded to tell me about his latest “kill.” Clearly, this guy was off his freaking rocker. Read the rest of this entry »


I know the title “What’s wrong with people” is a little bit vague, a little bit generic, but it’s a common theme and question to daily living. In fact, I’d like to see everyone do a piece on this topic, just so we can start a decent sized catalogue on the flaws of the human race. Now I’ve thought carefully about this, because I understand I needed to phrase this in a way that won’t offend anyone, in a way that won’t alienate my two followers (no, I’m not counting the Feds, who are tracking my every movement). So here it is… people are shit. I know, I know, that means I’m shit, you’re shit, that guy that just saved the kitty from the tree, yep, he’s especially shit. Now it’s not that I’ve lost faith in humanity, it’s just that I never had any in the first place. Read the rest of this entry »

There’s no such thing as a “Super Human.” Well… there are super annoying humans, super stupid humans, but when you put it into the Marvel Comics domain, it’s just fiction.

Okay, so occasionally we see a story about how this guy called “Steve” lifts a 2 tonne car off his accident prone Grandma because he didn’t want to collect the inheritance early… and how a team of oxen couldn’t lift the same car two days later. BUT, Steve is going to have back problems for the rest of his life… and his Grandma hadn’t just been losing her marbles, she had also been spending a lot of time down at the casino. By the time Ole’ Grandma is sent to greener pastures, Steve’s inheritance was blown in her 1000 dollar a week gambling addiction, mixed with her expensive meds for arthritis, emphysema, high blood pressure and “very fit gardening contractors.” So Steve isn’t getting a red cent for his trouble and his initial claim to Super Human has now degraded to: poor judge of character. Read the rest of this entry »

As a parent, I have a perfect excuse to have a collection of toys that are inappropriate for my age. When I enter a toy store, nothing is off limits. Well, perhaps with the exception of the Barbie section. I’m just not that into dolls… even Action Man whom I’m told on good advice is awesome, well, I just never liked role playing characters that surpass my own reality in every conceivable way. It’s not that I couldn’t be a man of action, it’s just that modern society doesn’t require me to get off the couch. Frankly, Action Man sounds like a bit of a show off. Kind of like Justin Beeper, but not as fake.
Read the rest of this entry »


Now first and foremost, I should say that I’m a coffee snob. That is to say, I’m not satisfied with the ground up dirt that passes your average quality control program for mass producing suppliers like Nescafawful or Home Brand Moulded Roasted Beans. Having said that, I don’t need to prove my taste buds by drinking “Kopi Luwak” coffee that only achieves the right “flavour” after the beans are defecated from some kind of feral animal.

This all started about four years ago, when a global cafe chain run by some kind of clown issued a public advertising blitz apologising for their woeful product. They claimed that they were going to turn the customer’s frowns upside down, which I guess has something to do with the clown. Given that their newly appointed 15 year old baristas have about as much experience drinking coffee as they do with personal hygiene, I viewed the announcement with some suspicion, to the point that I avoided the place like the plague… and I sincerely mean that if the plague is still around, then I’m sure you will find it in one of these establishments.<!–more–>

Anyway, after a sleepless night, then a 2 year old screaming in the car on a trip along the highway to hell, the only “cafe” I came across just happened to be the aforementioned McPlague Cafe. I quickly analysed my options… fall asleep at the wheel and kill an innocent family, tell a 2 year old “NO, we can’t stop at the playground”, or option 3, replenish my caffeine levels with a “barista made coffee” at the new an invigorated Plague Cafe. As the 2 year old’s scream peaked at 140db, the deal was sealed. I yanked the wheel and cut across 3 lanes of traffic to make the exit ramp. I got honked once to “You fucking maniac,” but I’m not sure if they were commenting on my driving, or choice of cafe. I think it was the café.

We walked into the *cough* cafe (I’m not sure why I coughed, it could have been a nervous reaction, or possibly my immune system kicking in) and the 2 year old dashed for the play ground.

“WAIT… put your rubber gloves on… and for the love of clowns, don’t lick anything!!”

After ordering my cappuccino, a double shot extra hot no sugar extra clean, I stepped back and had a chance to look at the other clientele. There were the gray nomads or pensioners, with their seniors discount cards who could only afford to share a stale muffin and small sized coffee. Then there were the truckers… eyes blazing from methamphetamines, needing a double caf with 20 sugars to wash down their “meds.” Their were some tourists who didn’t speak English, except when it came to picking items from the menu of this place. There was also a teenage guy in a hoody, who didn’t seem to order anything… I think he might have been a boyfriend or pimp to the 14 year old girl who was playing “expert barista” today. Then I zoned out for 3 minutes.

A wimpy voice murmured, “Number 897! – Cappucino, extra snot.”

Did she say extra snot, or extra hot? What happened to extra clean? “THAT’S ME!” I yelled.

I sat down and nodded at my partner as I flicked off the plastic lid to peer into the cup. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes, then glanced at the brown stain on the lid, “Are you sure you want to do this…. what’s in it?”

I looked down sorrowfully, noticing my shoe had just picked up a fresh piece of gum, “It’s better not to think about that. I’m hoping for caffeine.”

As the first luke warm liquid past my lips and touched my taste buds, I shuddered. I had a vivid flashback of 40 years ago, when as a child I fell into a stagnant pool of water in a gravel car park and received a mouthful of yuck. The skim milk I didn’t ask for simply wasn’t old enough to mask the stale aftertaste of the coffee beans that had been harvested 10,000 kilometres away then ground too early and left sit in an unsealed coffee grinder that was possibly cleaned when it was manufactured. Taking care not to put my hand on the flap of the bin, I pushed the cup through in one fluid movement, “it’s back to whence you came.”

Inspired from this News article