Some subtle signs from the natives…

queues of people buying coal… people filling gas bottles… the natives happily burbling about “just stocking up for when the snow starts are we?”

I could ask Oz what these subtle changes in behaviour mean or…. bugger the met office and the sunshine, I’m getting some fire wood cut asap.

Ummm…

My plausible deniability may not be as solid as it could be.

Every bloody day…

this guy parks outside my house and I think - damn I could make a trebuchet and a half with that stuff.

New location has been approved.

The supreme authority has apporved our relocation. The new views and extra sunbeams have been given a paws up in particular.

A special note to two other pussies: It was a FURBALL, you brace of softcocks. For a couple of self styled tough blokes, including deal with code browns, who went all pale and got the vapours over a blob of hair, you really just lost soooo much cred.

They know what I’m talking about.

Friday Night Free For All

Broadcasting to you tonight from 1965, where Harry Tudor’s contribution to child obesity and Pavlovian auditory/food auto-response flourishes like some kind of PC immune Brigadoon.

Yes, the crass tinny sounds of Greensleeves chimes ring out here in rural New Zealand, and children raid their parents’ change, before running forth from their homes with scant regard for road safety, dietary considerations and hatless, what’s more!

I was actually surprised that a trio of chubby middle-aged women in sensible shoes didn’t pull up in a DHB Flying Squad car, and haul him off for re-education!

Thats right Helen, here we don’t care about global warming, child obesity, and strange men luring children to vans with offers of treats… err. Well, anyway, a mere 30 ks further away from the seat of government has made a world of difference, as far as I can see.

Moving along, have your say if you’re not a festing left-wing denial monkey. We have state TV for that sort of drivel already.