Category Archives: Mark

Father O’Way and Sonja visit “The Hospital for Erectile Dysfunction”

03 Tuesday Jul 2012

Posted by in Mark, Warrigal Mirriyuula

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Another O’Way confusion…….I said “Olympics…. not limp dicks …..

Editor’s note:  Apparently the good father and Sonja, in the grip of confusion, went along to The Museum Of Erectile Dysfunction.  It’s a “private” museum if you get my drift.

Well blow me down if, after passing through the Gallery of Male Heart Throbs and seeing Zac Efron and Daniel Craig clutching at their privates, Sonja didn’t have half her kit off before she noticed the cameras there for the opening of the “Erect” exhibition in the Gallery of Phallic Symbolism.

Story by Hung One On and Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

The buxom voluptuous blonde sits on the side of my bed. She reaches around to undo her bra strap. Ring, ring, ring, ring. What the zark. It’s the phone ringing, just when I was getting to the good bit.

“Sandy, it’s the Bish here” says the voice.

“Gordon zarking O’Donnell Bish its only one thirty in the afternoon, I was having a sleep in” I reply rather pissed off.

“Look Sandy, you would sleep your life away if it wasn’t for me and the church of St Generic Brand” replies the Bish. Hmm, true, but what a great idea.

“Sandy, get down to the airport and hop a plane to London. I want you to see what is going on at the old limp dicks” barks the Bish.

“But Bish I know nothing about erectile dysfunction” I state not wanting to give away any trade secrets.

“The old limp dicks” says the Bish who as we know has a bit of a speech impediment when he has been smoking that stinking stuff from his pipe. “The sporting event you idiot, you know the one that comes around every four years and is full of drugs, money, women, parties, corruption and nationalism”. Hmm, sound like my kinda guys.

After many bribes and much negotiation I gain an interview with one of the most respected Australian TV journalists, with a great background in sport and really high credentials and credibility Sonia “Oh what a feeling” Kluger.  I now interview her in my usual format.

FOW: Why thanks Sonia good to see you here at another Olympics, I mean your last performance was simply beyond words.

SK: Thanks Sandy it’s a pleasure.

FOW: So Sonia, what’s your take on the current games?

SK: Well Sandy this is the first truly modern games where some of the events have been altered to match modern society.

FOW: Can you give me some examples?

SK: Yes Sandy. The marathon is no longer the marathon. It’s now called the Hit, run and run. Chris Jongewaard is our representative in this category as he has the form to perhaps win gold.

FOW: Any more?

SK: Yes Nick DÁrcy should win gold for Smashing Someone Jaw why they Aren’t Looking. We are entering Jarrod Bannister in the Drink Driving event  and Grant Hackett in the Get Pissed and Smash Your House Up event. All should win gold given their form.

FOW: So Sonia, do you have a sports background?

SK: Well Sandy my selection to commentate at Beijing was widely criticised however I have played some sport most of my life. When I was a young teenager my boyfriend and I would play Handball, however he always beat me and came first. As I got older my boyfriend and I moved on to a game called Givenhead. We would go parking and I would lower down to his groin  and he would  go, Hmm ,hmm, oh, yes, yes, oh, Oh my God, yes, baby, yes, oh my God etc., etc., but yes he would always come first. So I gave up sport after that and went to television where you know its just all pure bullshit, just like this interview.

I rest my case.

Father O’Way on the State of Oregon

21 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by in Mark, Warrigal Mirriyuula

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Story by Hung One On and Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hey. Hi. How are you? Sandy here, you know Sandy O’Way your local parish priest. Look I’ll cut to the chase. I need to get my word count up otherwise the Bish will kill me so I will be chucking in a few more words in this article, you know, like, words, words and more words. Wow, 50 words already, who said I’m an idiot.

Anyhoo, look, by the way that’s my second look, the Bish wants me to report on the State of Oregon that is about to be played between two teams, how interesting [groan].  But look, hey my third look, why does the Bish want to know about a state in America but look, okay, let’s take a look.

The State of Oregon is the 33rd state of the USA with a population of almost 4 million.

[ Okay. Stop right there Sandy. Hung here, look, I told you State of Origin, you know, football and the big decider coming up on the 4th July. You know mate I would call you and idiot but that would be an insult to idiots, now get on with it.]

Bloody hell. Did Hung get out of the wrong side of the bed or what but look I was enjoying the story so far. Now I have to write about football, ewww, yuck.

So look, hmm another look, I slip some security guards some suspicious white powder that they think is drugs but is really talcum powder to get an interview with the coaches. Boy, I can’t wait to see the faces of those stupid guards when they start sticking talc up their noses.

The two coaches are Ricky Poofart for the New South Wales Blues and Mal Meningitis for the Queensland Morons. I start with Ricky.

“So Ricky” I ask on the front foot just to let this guy know that I am a footy expert “Who’s going to win the upcoming game of Collingwood versus Manly?” That will stump him.

“Well I’m sorry Father but those teams play in different competitions” Ricky informs.

“Oh, so there is more than one competition?” I ask not knowingly.

“Well yes Father. Collingwood play Aussie Rules but Manly play the real game, Thugby League.” Ricky informs.

Darn. I was hoping for some inside information so I could make a killing down at FabSportsBet. I’ll throw another curly one at him. “What about the clash of the Saints, you know, Saint George verus Saint Kilda?”

“No Father. They are separate games with separate rules. They play on a big oval and we have referees and they have umpires” informs Ricky.

“Yes, yes, of course” I twaddle looking for another gag. “Yes, Ricky, I hear you are ecstatic about the umpires, oops, I mean referees?  I probe.

“It’s always their fault that we lose” Ricky spurts, on his feet now and frothing at the mouth. He grabs me around the throat “The referees are always wrong and we are always right that’s what makes them so wrong and us so right and if we lose it’s rigged” spews Ricky.

“Look Ricky, chill man. So you are called the Blues. I love the blues, you know George Thorogood, Stevie Ray Vaughan that sort of thing” I enquire meekly, fearing for my life.

“The Blues is the colour of our jumper Father, er, um, sorry about the strangle hold.”

Hmm. I dust myself off and head to the next interview with Mal Meningitis, the coach of the Queensland Morons.

“So Mal, I mean Big Mal” hmm, big, M, couldn’t be. I ask the obvious “ So big Mal, you don’t live in Newcastle do you?”

“No Father. I am a true Queenslander. I live in Canberra” Mal replies.

“So Mal, are you are you going to beat those southern hicks, the Blues?” I ask.

“Don’t you worry about that” Mal replies “Look I have just finished making some pumpkin scones, replaced the faded curtains and fed the chooks, so don’t you worry about that Father”

Gordon zarking O’Donnell, what have we here. “Well Mal, have you ever thought about a career in politics?” I state rather dryly.

“Well Father, yes, no, maybe.” Mal states. Hey, maybe we do have something in common after all.

“Look Mal, I’m a fictitious character on a piece of paper that appears on a website called the Pigarms. What state of origin would I fit into?” I ask rather forlornly, you know,  that feeling of not belonging.

“Well Father, by reading some of your stories I think you would fit into the Mental Health state” states Mal.

Yes, finally, I can cheer for my team, the state of Mental Health but I wonder which competition do they play in?

“So Mal, how do you feel about the referees?” I ask trying to hide my complete boredom.

“Look Father” says Mal “You pay them enough money and you get the result you want. In fact the State Premier, Camp Bellnewman, supports gay marriage.”

“I’m sorry Mal but I don’t get what you mean” I state innocently.

“Well look” says Mal “come over sweetie here and I’ll give you a kiss and we can talk about the first thing that pops up.”

Look, someone get me outta here.

[PS: I would like to thank the word look that appeared over 19 times and did nothing for the story at all except improve my word count.]

Father O’Way Saves Julian

08 Friday Jun 2012

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Excellent

Story by Hung One On,  Cartoonery Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hi. Sandy here. You now Father O’Way from the parish of St Generic Brand. I have just got Shappy out of jail and rescued Greece from the Eurozone  and now the Bish, you know Bishop Bishop, wants me to do the same for Julian Arse Sarge, from Wikileaks, whatever the zark that is.

“Get Julian out of trouble or you are fired” arcs up the Bish.

“But hey Bish, leeks are something you put in soup?” I ask  knowing I will get hammered.

“No you ninny, leaks as is letting things slip” retorts the Bish rather viscously.

“So he is incontinent?” I reply is my most nonchalant parish priest voice.

“Look, I don’t care what continent he is on Sandy, just find him and save him or else” barks the Bish.

Oh for zark sake. Is the Bish a full time wanker, I think so.

Anyway, I do a bit of homework and I find out that Julian is living on the Bold Coast, which is in Australia some where. Julian is pretending to be a conservative business man running a business and whingeing at every opportunity to bag the government. I have been told that he has an alias called Feat Slipper.

I travel to this Bold Coast to try and find this Julian character. I enter the bordello called “The Slip Inn” and am ushered into a room to meet the owner. A man is sitting at computer and is listening to some old Yes albums. Drugged out hippy no doubt.

“So Julian, the CIA are after you along with the FBI, MI5, AISO and the AFP, but which is the best Yes album?” I cut to the chase.

“Fragile Sandy” Julian replies “but could you have potato soup without leeks?” asks Julian.

“No. Not on mate, but I was told it was leaks as in you are incontinent?” I ask rather innocently.

“Piss off, gerrit!!!!”  Julian asserts.

“No, not really. But Julian you are leaking all over the place, surely you have some sort of plan?” I ask.

“Zarking oaf Sandy. My aim is to take over the Pigsarms. Total world domination follows. Control the Pigsarms and you control the world.”

Sad, but true.

Greece is the Word

31 Thursday May 2012

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Story by Hung One On and Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hi. Sandy O’Way here, you know the, yes I guess you know by now. I’m in a cab on my way to the Nazi Goering Airport on Barley when the phone rings. Guess who, the Bish.

“Sandy, hop a plane to Greece. They are in great trouble and need your help to prevent them dropping out of the Eurozone” bleats the Bish.

“Hmm, Eroticzones, sounds good to me Bish” I answer eagerly.

“No you dimwit. The Eurozone is a common European currency used by all European countries, you know like Portugal, Ireland, Greece, Spain, Austria, Romania, Moldova and Switzerland you must rescue them or you’re fired” demands the Bish.

Hmm, there goes my comfy retirement but Portugal, Ireland, Greece, Spain, Austria, Romania, Moldova and Switzerland spells PIGSARMS. It’s a sign from Gordon, I’m on a mission from GOD! This must be connected to the Pigs Arms, the home of  pink drinks and Trotters Ale, well I’ll do it for them, they are worth saving.

On the plane I am seated next to a strangely attractive female dressed in black leather and teased hair however there is something not quite right here, like since when do women have an Adams apple and a five o’clock shadow, hmm.

“Hi cutey. I’m Olivia Neutron Bomb” er, um, she states and extends here rather hairy hand.

We shake hands and she nearly crushes it, crikey more grip than a hooker up the Cross. “Er, um Sandy O’Way, nice to meet you, now can you give me my hand back” I blurt in pain and agony.

“ I’ve just finished my last year at Rydell’s High School and had to leave behind my boyfriend, John Travolting, but look sweetie I’m always open to any mile high suggestions” she gushes batting her eyelashes faster then a hummingbird on heat. “You see Father, I got chills. They’re multiplyin’. And I’m losin’ control. Cause the power you’re supplyin’, it’s electrifyin’! You’re the one that I want, (you are the one I want), o,o, oo, honey, The one that I want. (you are the one I want), o,o,oo, honey. The one that I want, (you are the one I want), o,o, ooooo, The one I need.
Oh, yes indeed”

“Er, um, well, look Miss, I’m a parish priest and I’m on a mission from GOD.” I search unwittingly for an answer to dispel, well, um, this young lady.

“So you’re in the missionary position Father? See Greece is the word, Greece is the word, is the word that you heard, It’s got groove it’s got meaning, Greece is the time, is the place is the motion, Greece is the way we are feeling” she says.

“No I’m off to save Greece from dropping out of the Eurozone.” I state rather firmly.

“Well look up my old friend, Evangeos Venizelopoulos, he is a handsome Geek man that likes things Greek style in every way, if you know what I mean”  he, er, um, she smirks.

Well no, I don’t know what you mean but someone get me out of here.

I head to Evangoes’ office but I mean fancy being in Greece, the centre of the world, handsome men, pretty women and the best food I have ever eaten. Yeah, Greece is the word.

“So Evangoes” I start “ the country is up shit creek. What are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I will win the next election and trash everything from the IMF and anyone else” he says rather firmly.

“The IMF?” I ask rather dimwittingly.

“Yes, the Internationally Myopic Financers” he replies.

“Hmm, what about asking people to pay tax? I mean Christine “Frenchy” LaGrange, head of the IMF,  said so herself only the other day” I moot carefully.

“Sir, you insult me and my nation. We pay no tax. Tax is a pox. When I attend the school dance with the T-Birds and the Pink Ladies there is no talk of tax. We will win the dance off and fund the country that way. Anyway, Frenchy has insulted my car, a Datsun 120Y, and I have challenged her to a race to the death” he asserts loudly and demonstratively.

“So Evangoes, what is life for you after politics?” I ask.“Well” says Evangoes “Frenchy has promised me a head job in the car park so I expect to be Le Comminsioner de stationnement [The Commissioner of Parking] I guess.”

I rest my car.

The Return of Father O’Way – in Barley

28 Monday May 2012

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Nazi Goering

Story by the Great Hung One On – Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hi. Sandy O’Way here. You know the good father from the St Generic Brand parish, around the corner and down the street from the Pigs Arms. Well the Bish, you know Bishop Bishop, wants me to get Shappy Corebee out of jail. Apparently Shappy got caught smuggling thugs into Barley as the local thugs aren’t strong enough and that’s why they need Australian thugs and let face we have plenty of thugs in Australia.

[Stop.  Cut. Cease.  Hung here. Look Sandy you idiot it’s drugs not thugs, now get on with it and stop being silly]

Oh, sorry! Okay so she’s a drug smuggler and is in jail in Barley which is an island in Donesia. Donesia is rated the most corrupt country in the world just above Australia. The Barlenese don’t want to be part of Donesia but when asked to join they didn’t have enough guns, tanks and jetfighters so they agreed. Anyway what can you bribe corruption with?  I ask myself as I land at the airport in the capital of Barley, Nazi Goering.

I check into my hotel, The Nazi Goering Combination Hotel, and head for two private investigators, Beef and Chicken Satay. The Bish told me that these two old skewers are really peanuts but know the island. I send them out to get the low-down on how I can get Shappy out of the can.

The next day Beef rings me at my hotel “Look Sandy, we found high level criminal activity, hookers, inappropriate reporting procedures and set up merchants” Beef spluttered.

“Look Beef, I didn’t ask for a report on the Health Services Union, anyway you sound a bit overdone, I’ll take it from here”.

What in the name of Gordon am I going to do? The Bish said get her out or you’re fired so I better come up with something. I know I’ll ring the jail and make an appointment with the Governor, Berguling Gado Gado.

“Mr Gado Gado’s office” the voice replied.

“Er,um, hi, can I make an appointment to see the governor?” I ask rather nervously.

“Certainly Sir, 10:45 tomorrow morning. And your name Sir?” the voice asks.

My name, zark, what’s my name, crikey it’s been such a long time I’ve forgotten, oh hang on it’s at the top of the page, you know how you characteristically introduce yourself, see Sandy O’Way. Don’t you just love having conversations with yourself, yes I see it now, I say Hi. Sandy O’Way here so that must be me. “Sandy” I reply confidently “Sandy O’Way”.

“Thank you Sandy Sandy O’Way we will see you tomorrow” the voice affirms.

“No my name is just Sandy O’Way” I state rather awkwardly.

“Okay then Just Sandy O’Way see you tomorrow”.

I give up otherwise I will chew up my word limit and you won’t find out what happens in the end. I mean lets face it that’s why you read anything, to find out what happens in the end. So me I just read the end first and that saves me a lot of time. Like Frodo drops the One Ring into the Crack of Doom, now that saved me a heap of reading.

“Well Governor how can I convince you to let Shappy out of jail?” I ask. May as well get on the front foot.

“Yeah sure. I have 27th July 1965, 8th Feburury 1982 or August 1st 2003. Which date would you like?” the Governor exclaims.

“But Governor all those dates are past” I state rather bewildered by it all.

“Well in that case we better let her out then”

And so that is how it happened, honest, well sort of.

Hung’s Christmas Prawns

25 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by in Mark, The Dining Room

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Black Tiger Prawn

Hung’s Christmas Prawns

Look, I putting myself out on a limb here but I thought I would share an old family recipe for prawns.

Ingredients

20 cooked Black Tiger Prawns

2 Limes

Cracked sea salt

Method

Shell and de – vein the prawns

Sprinkle lightly with sea salt

Smoother with lime juice

Phew, after all that work I need a glass of French Champagne supplied by the mighty Julian London however beer is also a suitable substitute.

Eat, enjoy.

PS: I stayed up all night working on this recipe.

Cricket – The game played in Heaven

25 Sunday Dec 2011

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Picture by Warrigal

Cricket by Hung One On

Cricket, the game played all throughout the universe. I mean what would Christmas be if there were no cricket. Think about how sad we all would be. Lets face it without cricket Christmas would be cancelled. Cricket is bigger than God and dare I say even bigger than Elvis.

Now I can hear all wailing “Surely not bigger than Elvis” but yes, it’s true trust me. So the test match starts tomorrow at the MCG( Moronic Cricket Ground) , oh yes five days of sheer boredom mixed with skill and beauty, beer, sunshine, seagulls and of cause the ultimate bore in Richie Benaud. Why they trot Richie out every summer is totally beyond me. Surely we have all heard every opinion he has plus some. What a shame that the days are gone when one could listen to the ABC and watch the game on TV. Thanks to those spoiled brats at Channel Nine there is now a delay forcing us to listen to the repetitive drone of Ian Chappell, Bill Lawry and Tony Greig. Three of the biggest dingbats ever to play the game however what is worse is still to come in Shane Warne, a drip with ears if ever there was one. How’s this trick, Chappell sees the spinner doing his warm up routine but you can’t see that at home. He then grabs the mike “You know if I was the Australian captain I’d bring on the spinner”, next over the spinner comes on “You’re a genius Ian, still got what it takes” yeah right.

Now lets look at the team. After years of total world domination we are now the also rans and about time too. The only problem with the state of world cricket is the Poms, they are rated number one, how disgusting is that, we must do something about this, fire a letter off to the local member like Beryl or even better just beat the bastards.  Anyway the team. We are going through what they call a rebuilding phase. The only problem is no one has told Ricky Ponting and Mike Hussey. These yesterday men are holding out the future, driven by greed they have become an anathema, what ever that means. Then we have all the old players saying things like Ponting and Hussey have been such great servants of the game they can retire on their own terms. How ridiculous is that, can you see Ponting aged 90 fielding in the slips. The commentators also come up with this furphy, we need the older players experience to keep the team together, bullshit. If you get to 20 years old and you don’t all you need to know about cricket then you are never going to know, rocket science it ain’t, score more runs than them, was that hard, no didn’t think so.  This how silly the situation has become, Khawaja is dropped for not scoring enough runs but is averaging more runs in the last two years then Ponting, work that one out. Khawaja is the future, Ponting is the past. Time for the axe and that time is now.

Also lets look at Phil Hughes, treated so badly by the selectors he is now gone between the ears. You don’t score two centuries against South Africa in South Africa against the best pace attack in the world if you don’t have talent. Then some pommy bastard works him over in England all of a sudden there is a problem. Leave the kid in there, let him work it out but no the selectors jettisoned him like a piece of doggy do, now his problems are all mental. He will be back, bigger and better but no thanks to the pathetic bunch of mental crimps called the selectors.

The captain Michael Clarke is the second weakest link in the team behind the inconsistent openers. Yes he has made some good scores but fails when we need him most. Clarke needed to win the Hobart test against New Zealand. As a kid my coach taught me it is not just getting out but how and when you get out. Clarke needs to examine this part of his game. Steve Waugh or Alan Border would have won that game.

The wicket keeper in Brad Haddin is the worse wicket keeper I have seen play for Australia since Greg Dyer. Lets through to many byes and worse he is a sledger, I hate sledgers, they are weak bullies and are a blight on the game. We would bowl at their heads in my day and on mats that can be dangerous, get rid of him.

The bowling group looks good with Cummins and Lyon being great finds and the old saying is true bowlers win matches, batsmen save them. This young group looks like it has the ability to win us a few games. If we can get the batting group to be the same world dominance will occur again and more importantly we will beat those pesky pommies.

Hung from the Heart

23 Friday Dec 2011

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This pub looks familiar – I think I’ll have a Trotters Ale

 

Hung From The Heart by Hung One On

 

Hey, a heart is a powerful thing

It keeps us alive beating non stop

From birth to death

If  I speak from the heart

I may offend or discriminate

But that ain’t what I will want to do

To speak the truth takes courage

However the truth is different to different eyes

Me, I don’t care where you came from

The colour of your skin

To me it’s you, that’s what makes me like you

You may be smart, you may be dumb

If you are genuine then that’s okay

Racism and bigots I don’t like

But if you have a view

Put it up for discussion, lets hear it

Nothing wrong with that but don’t expect me to agree

Again, nothing wrong with that

Me, I get my most pleasure from others

My wife and kids, my patients

I love seeing them be happy

Last night a lady resident with dysphagia

Was crying and upset

I held her hand and asked her all the usual dumb questions

“Are you in pain?”

“Do you want fries with that?”

She tried to tell me what was wrong.

She squeezed my hand hard. She was down.

In the end she said “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright”

As clear as day, dysphagia?

I see a lot of depression

It takes one to know one

Doing something for them is so hard for some

But easy for me

I go to work, sometimes tired, not enough sleep,

“Hey Hung, can I have some Panadol?”

Sure, how easy is that

Most of friends are gone now

Thanks to the Black Dog

The crew at The Arms are my friends now

I talk from the heart

I wear it on my sleeve

I pay a price, I pay my dues

Father O’Way in Sri Lanka

08 Thursday Sep 2011

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Licky licky goo goo

 

Hi, look Father O’Way here. I’m really miffed. The Bish, you know Bishop Bishop of the St Generic Brand Church of Inner Western Cyberia has got the audacity to ring me in the Caribbean on my holidays with the beautiful Belinda to do a job.

 Anyhoo, enough whingeing. I have to go and find out what is going on behind the scenes in the Australian cricket team. Apparently the selectors have been dumped and everyone hates Greg Crapell, I mean, is this the bleeding obvious or what.

So I fly to Sri Lanka, you know the home of the paradise island, tea, coconuts and rocket launchers. Geez, thanks Bish.

Using some suspicious white powder, some green looking dried vegetable and gold bars I work my way into the inner sanctum of Australian cricket, the bar.

As usual all of the players have finished their lines, cocaine usually and are chatting around the bar.

“Did you all hear old chaps that Greg Crapell will be staying on for the tour?” I asked the group of players.

Ah f#@k, s@#t, p@#s, Geez a@#s were some of the more notable replies.

“What do think Greg can add to the team?” Geeps, who are my script writers, I’ll get killed for this.

F@#k all, he’s absolutely s#@t from a alpaca, for f@#k sake burn him at the stake and he doesn’t even eat meat, eeeewwww, were some of the more common answers.

“You have won the first test and would be confident going into the next match. I see that a former groundsman has been capped and did well, what are your thoughts on this?” Man, I’m shitting my self asking this one, I mean these guys are on coke, pissed, rich, ego centric, fit, aggressive, nasty, win at all costs sort of dudes.

F@#king good on ‘im mate, geez them wops are p@#s weak, can’t beat a f@#king groundsman, a@#s lickers mate, again were some of the more notable comments.

“Do you think Greg  Crapell is the sort of guy that attracts lots of # symbols and @ symbols?” I venture rather nervously. This crowd is getting ugly.

F@#king oath, you bet you a@#e and F@#k you uncle, again were more of the notable replies.

Father O’Way here. Signing out, in his lounge room, Nowhere, I hope….

FOW – Climate change for Dummies

22 Friday Jul 2011

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Hi. Father O’Way(FOW) here. You know me now as Sandy, affectionately I’m sure. Anyhoo I have been asked to interview Lourdes Shitstirfer Muckrake(LSM). As you know there has been a lot of debate going on over at The Drum about climate change so I’m interviewing a leading critic against climate change. Here’s a transcript.

 

FOW: So, Lourdes Shitstirfer you oppose climate change and even say that the planet is cooling?

LSM: Please, call me Shit. Most people that know me refer to me by that name.

FOW: Okay, Shit, you claim that the planet is cooling?

LSM: Yes, from one year to another the temperature changed, big deal, I mean who gives a fig. If you look at 2000 to 2010 the temperature went down.

FOW: However the temperature from 1880 to now has gone up, how do you explain that?

LSM: That’s crap.

FOW: Sorry, I thought you said it was Shit.

LSM: Yes, it’s Shit but that’s crap.

FOW: Crap?

LSM: Yes, shit.

FOW: Hmm, how about the oceans are acidifying?

LSM: Hey, nothing wrong with a bit of acid man, I mean, my school days and that, wow.

FOW: What about the rising coastline?

LSM: Yeah, man, surf’s up in the western suburbs, whoa!

FOW: How about renewable energy?

LSM: If it’s renewable and that energy can be renewed then I think that renewable energy is very renewable and therefore renewable.

FOW: That’s crap?

LSM: No, Shit.

FOW: You actually didn’t say anything

LSM: No shit.

 

Sandy O’Way signing out, In His House, Nowhere.