All Creatures Great And Small - a self help book

We are working our way through 33 DVDs of All Creatures Great And Small, a British show about vets in Yorkshire in the 1930s. Elf has been reading the original James Herriot books to the boys for a few weeks.

I used to watch the show with my family as a kid in the early 80s. The episodes we are watching now were made in 1978, about 40 years after they are set. What's freaky is that the lag from now back to when the episodes were made is nearly 40 years.

I have an idea for a self-help book for men. The idea is that there are three basic types; Siegfried, James and Tristan. We are all a delicate blend of these three types, with one or another dominant. The book will teach you how to quit smoking, get out of your endless cycle of failed affairs or get over your tweed addiction, by gently tweaking the degrees of Siegfried, James and Tristan within.

All you need is a my book, gumboots, a tin bucket of warm water and soap, a fell and/or dale, and a cow with non-specific diarrhoea.

Footy predictions 2014

For once I have got to this before the season is already half over. I am seeing Hawthorn as minor premiers, going into the Grand Final as favourites and getting rolled by Geelong. Richmond will be top 4 for much of the season then fade. But this year they will win a final.

1. Geelong
2. Hawthorn
3. Freo
4. Sydney
5. North
6. Richmond
7. Essendon
8. Collingwood
9. West Coast
10. Adelaide
11. Gold Coast
12. Carlton
13. Western Bulldogs
14. Port Adelaide
15. St Kilda
16. Melbourne
17. Greater Western Sydney
18. Brisbane

Brownlow Medal: Nate Fyfe

Coleman Medal: Jeremy Cameron, GWS, 66

Grand Final: Geelong d Hawthorn

Lord Headley and I

The parallels between the late Lord Headley and I are uncanny. Much like he, I too was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and entered Middle Temple, before commencing studies at King’s College London, subsequently becoming a civil engineer, a builder of roads in India, and an authority on the protection of intertidal zones. I too am an enthusiastic practitioner of boxing as well as other arts of self defence and am a widely traveled man. Like Headley I also inherited my peerage from my cousin, married an Australian author, and then became bankrupt. In a spooky case of history repeating, I too was offered the throne of Albania but refused it.

The main difference between us is that he converted to Islam and founded the British Muslim Society, whereas I, inspired by my deep interest in loosely-woven cotton fabrics, founded the British Muslin Society.

Truth* sometimes really is stranger than fiction**.

*Which this isn’t.
**Which this is.

Imaginary cars - the golden years of motoring

The first post-war Creighton model was the 800cc Crumpet - based on an anti-aircraft gun chassis. Most parts were military-surplus. Headlights were reworked Home Guard bicycle clips, while the gearbox was an essentially unaltered NAAFI tea urn. A cream 2-stroke Crumpet Standard was Princess Elizabeth's first car.

In 1969 Hugh Fisk designed a box-kite capable of carrying a human aloft in light winds. In 1972, after a nearly-fatal crash in which the kite sheared in half, he added wheels to what was left and named his creation the Dreadnought. The marque was named Ruskin Fisk in honour of W.E.H. Ruskin, a pioneer of British male nursing.

We all recall the hit 70s TV series Spunky and Jed, about unconventional cop Jed Jenkins and his talking car Spunky, which was played by a '72 Tungsten Tourniquet. The much rarer Quagmire was only manufactured for six months. Inspired by the Harley Davidson's approach to engineering, it came with a megaphone in place of muffler as standard.

The Gumbleton range of motor cars needs no introduction. Throughout the 30s and early 40s it won every long distance rally going, from the Hawaii-Houston to the Java-Alaska-Chile Ring Of Fire Classic. The Thorax-5 was their first attempt to translate this success into a teardrop-shaped family sedan that could cope with the shopping and a Sunday drive to church, but if need be could continue on over a cliff and into the sea. Sales were poor.

The flagship of the booming Cypriot car and washing-machine industry in the 50s, The Makarios III company seemed to be incapable of putting a foot wrong. This purple patch came to an end with the Weasel. Available in four levels of luxury (Handsome Goatherd, Sinister Boatman, Proud Plutocrat and Romantic Duchess Plus, pictured here) it came in one colour only - Panflute Green. All four shared the same basic chassis which was unfortunately 4" too wide for any road in Cyprus.

Some more of my favourite imaginary cars

Drysdale-Fisk Sasquatch 12

Timms Osprey

Hereford Herring 18/80

Tripplehorn Tempest X7X

Mumford Apocalypse

Velasquez Marionette Six

Monk Garrigle Poltergeist

BGH Singh Obstacle Plus

Saxby Semiquaver

Ingham Ostrogoth

Moto Italia Super Elk

Tropicana Tradesman

Congo Weltschmerz Funf

Glastonbury Viper

Wagstaff Gazelle VII

Dear Leader Triumphant Struggle Vanette

Croxton Parallax

Shaolin Pinky

Bagshaw Blunderbuss GLX

Ads for my imaginary cars

I am just not getting any offers on my shedload of imaginary vintage motors. I am not sure what's wrong, as they are some of the most sought after non-existent marques you will find. So  - I have dug through the vaults to find the original trade ads, full of that "new car" excitement. I am "pumping up the tires" if you like. I am by the phone, and I am ready to trade in anything for these clean, straight units.

Big thanks to www.carstyling.ru for their incredible range of Fiats.

Unicode symbols - more interesting than you thought, eh?

I believe everyone has the right to express themselves the way they wish, how they want to dress, who they want to be with, or if they maybe want to be a blue-green heptahydrate. It's high time we stopped excluding Iron (II) sulfate from the gender discourse.

If my child made this choice I would stand by him.

Just found some more cars

Blow me down - I have just remembered I have a whole 'nother hangar out the back stacked full of redundant yet notable (non-existent) automobiles. Would you believe I have, in more or less mint condition;

• a Bishop Spong Sportswagon
• an original Stubing Superior driverless bus
• a 1956 Classic Clerihew light lorry
• a Nutley Six, cut down into a ute
• a Hokusai Scrimshaw 1200 ride-on wheelbarrow
• a Wrigley Osiris Five submersible car
• the aqua Sussex Tong forklift that appears in the opening credits of On The Buses
• an Oxbow Peril P100 fire engine
• the front half of a Munster Shark tourer welded to the back half of a Munster SuperTrout delivery van
• a Nesbitt Zanzibar hearse
• and a 1972 Lamington Ark Royal Princess armoured car (fastback)

Due to straightened circumstances I am open to any offer on these unique (yet sadly imaginary) commercial vehicles. No tyre-kickers please.

Hollywood on the Gold Coast

I have never been to Hollywood on the Gold Coast, so I don't know what they have going on there these days, but the old ads used to show Beetlejuice walking around. Walking funny. I guess he had some kind of spring-loaded stunt-tongue or something. Anyway, I always thought it was a pretty out-of-mind movie for them to be promoting in that way.

It (Beetlejuice) was on TV the other night and we just got to talking here about H on the GC and what other movies might be represented there. Feel free to make your own list of funny incongruous films at this point (mine was The Unforgiven, Honey I Shrunk The Kids, and Bridges of Madison County).

Dave suggested Trainspotting - I am giving him 4 and a half stars for that but 5 for myself for suggesting they have a ride where you go down the toilet like Renton, then come out down the coast at Seaworld, in a pool full of seals.

There would be queue around the block for this

Umbrella

When you are walking with an umbrella up, on a still day, do you ever just let go of it and let it drift along on it's own a bit? You have to catch it again fairly quickly of course, or it falls out of your hand, but not as quickly as you might think.

If you are walking home, let's say, the umbrella just keeps on heading home on its own, for half a second. If you lightly regrip it and arrest it's fall, then let it go again, it continues to sort of autonomously drift homeward. It feels very slightly as though the umbrella is just a pleasant, undemanding (yet useful) companion - who could be doing anything at that moment (shopping, snowboarding, on Facebook), but is happy to just be out for a walk with you.

Crime fiction

Crime novels are pretty much all the same aren't they? Mostly murders, and most of those always turn out to be serial killers, who taunt the investigators by leaving clues. Yawn. Lots of loose-cannon detective sergeants who don't do things by the book, but get results. They have to hand in their badge and gun after one too many controversies, but they solve the crime and clear their name. Double yawn. Police procedurals. Heists. Capers. Audacious swindles by international criminal masterminds - with lots of luxury brand names dropped in for good measure.

Well, forget all that. I am going to start a startlingly original stream of crime fiction, featuring mostly parking offences, vandalism and infringements of municipal noise-pollution bylaws. Look out for book one, Bin Kickers, in airport bookshops everywhere, this Christmas.

Curry, the Musical

One day I will get around to writing my hit Bollywood/Broadway crossover musical about curries, featuring the showstopper I'm Only Human, I Used Too Much Cumin.

Wild Card

In tennis tournaments you often hear that someone has been given a 'wild card' entry. Sometimes its an ageing ex-champ, sometimes its an up-and coming star of the future. But they are always a tennis player of some kind. That doesn't seem terribly wild to me.

I see a future where every tournament has half a dozen 'really wild cards', and you don't know who it's going to be until they walk out on court. Of course it would be unusual for any of them to get past round 1, but imagine the excitement all the same. It's Wimbledon, early summer, strawberries etc, Roger Federer is warming up with a coach, impatiently doing a few stretches and a few practice serves, when the spotlight falls on the mouth of the tunnel, and out walks ... Martha Stewart. Or ... Prince Edward. Or ... Lindsay Lohan, complete with detention bracelet on her ankle. Or Elton John, or Alice Cooper, or Oprah Winfrey. Donald Trump. Venezuelan strong-man Hugo Chavez. Supermodel Giselle Bundchen.

For the French Open mixed doubles, we could have those wily clay court specialists, Yves Saint Laurent and Juliette Binoche. Or perhaps the doubles should be pro-am. Australia would be represented by that classic good-cop/bad-cop combo, Samantha Stosur and Kyle Sandilands.

Romantic Foil

I am fascinated by the term 'romantic foil'. It sounds like the sort of stuff from which you would make a robot for your wife, for Valentine's Day. If she really, really loved robots.

Lets learn Luxembourgish!

Here is the entire list of handy Luxembourgish phrases and words provided by Wikipedia.

• Jo. Yes.
• Neen. No.
• Vläicht. Maybe.
• Moien. Hello.
• Gudde Moien. Good Morning.
• Gudde Mëtteg. Good Afternoon.
• Gudden Owend. Good Evening.
• Äddi. Goodbye.
• Merci. Thank you.
• Firwat? Why
• Ech weess net. I don't know.
• Ech verstinn net. I don't understand.
• Watgelift? or Entschëllegt? Excuse me?
• Metzleschjong. Butcher's son.
• Schwätzt dir Däitsch/Franséisch/Englesch? Do you speak German/French/English?
• Wéi heeschs du? What is your name?
• Wéi geet et? How are you?
• Politeschen Anstand. Political Decency
• Sou. So.
• Fräi. Free.
• Heem. Home.
• Ech. I.
• An. and/in.
• Mäin. my.
• Iesel. donkey.
• Mat. With.
• Kand. Kid/Child.
• Wee. Way.
• Gromper. Potato.

Now - your homework is to translate these ordinary sentences into Luxembourgish.

Hello. How are you? Potato! So please have the political decency to free my donkey. Potato! I am on my way home. Potato! Excuse me, I don't understand what the butcher's son has to do with any of this. Potato! Potato! POTATO!

Pizzicato abuse

Desperate Housewives - have you seen it? Elf watches it occasionally and I love to hate it. Even being in the same room with it, I find it offensive. Since our living area is just one big room, I sometimes resort to headphones to get away from it.

The synopsis is: affluent neighbourhood full of people stealing each other's money, adulterising and plotting to murder each other. Pretty standard really, pretty Melrose Place. Except - every time someone is up to no good, looking in someone else's rubbish bin or slipping off their wedding ring on their way into a bar, there is a little 8 bar vamp of pizzicato strings. Someone has asked themselves "what is the sneakiest music there is?" and that's what they came up with.

I put myself in the shoes of the session violinists. Granted, some of them may believe that the end justifies the means. Some of them may be proud of having slept their way to the top in the incidental strings world. Some of them may believe everything is relative, you've got to look out for number one, and there's no free lunch.

But what about that one straight-edge, clean living, upright citizen, who turns up at the office with his viola every day, plays the sheet music he is handed, with care, energy and brio - perhaps he's a pizzicato specialist, flown in to LA from the East Coast for a big job lot of pizzicato work. Calls his wife and kids every day while he's away. Dedicated. Caring. A moral beacon in this increasingly Paris Hiltonised world.

How is he going to feel when he sits down to watch Housewives and realises that his dedicated plucking is the soundtrack to ugly suburban depravity?

Fun Fact: In Vietnam the show is just called Những bà nội trợ kiểu Mỹ - American Housewives.

TV spots, Outdoor Signage, Dinosaur Rights

Australian companies are sponsoring archaelogical digs, then getting the dinosaurs named after themselves. Dinosaur naming rights. I had no idea this was going on. Atlascopcosaurus was discovered in 1984, Qantassaurus in 1996. It's probably cheaper than making a TV spot, and more durable than a billboard. It could even be an alternative to taking a yellow pages ad.

David Attenborough: "What a sight it must have been - a mighty herd of TasmanianCarpetCleaning236689-osaurus browsing in the Cretaceous jungle, while chicken-sized www.LegsnBreasts.com-oraptors scampered about their feet..."

Some thoughts on show jumping

Photo from WikiCommons

I was watching TV with Marcus yesterday when a snippet of show jumping came on. I said "look at those two mammals working together - what a team". He is well used to hearing me drone on this theme; that we are mammals, and we have to stick together with the other mammals; the hyrax, the kangaroo rat, Hattie, Paris Hilton - we are all in this together. He ignored me.

But [in some strange out of body way] I listened to myself, and it got me thinking - what if there was a version of show jumping open to ANY mammal-on-mammal team? We might arrogantly think we would have the other combos on toast. But would we? Imagine if you will, given a few alterations to the course and obstacles, how a koala on a greyhound would go. Greyhound:fast, koala: hangs on like nobody's business. What about a jack russell terrier on a cheetah? This time, the pup is providing the brains (cheetahs are not the smartest) while the cheetah is there for pure pace. And who wouldn't like to see a JRT in one of those little jackets?

In thoroughbred racing, the track is rated fast, good, dead, slow or heavy, depending on dampness. Imagine a track that started heavy then had about a billion squiggolitres of water poured on it. It's now rated marine environment. Now, imagine, instead of fences, there are hoops. Are you following me? Cue the team of dolphin and water rat. In terms of racecraft and cunning, you are going to have to go some way to beat the rat. The dolphin will be able to actually count the laps which can only improve its winning chances. Plus, if required, it can see off any attacking sharks. Even Seabiscuit couldn't do that.

Shasta this, Shasta that

I was browsing through a World Book Encyclopedia as I love to do, (volume D), when I noticed a vaguely odd thing. The article on "dam" was illustrated with a photo of the Shasta Dam, California. Two pages later the article on "daisy" was illustrated with a photo of the shasta daisy (Leucanthemum x superbum) a hybrid originated by the famous horticulturist Luther Burbank. I confidently expected to find also the shasta dolphin, shasta duck and the beautiful though sadly extinct shasta dodo. But I didn't.

Radio cricket commentary delusion #5a

During a dull patch in the cricket, when Jim is recalling a top feller who played Sydney grade cricket in the fifties, or doing his piss poor West Indies accent that consists of just finishing a sentence with "mon" - and Kerry is saying "he could play a bit, D.G. Bradman" - that's when I imagine the commentary panel are all dressed as women. In a half-arsed, footy-club-drag-night-fundraiser way. Or like Lemmon and Matthau in Some Like It Hot. Lots of big dangly earrings swinging as they turn their heads to follow the ball racing to the boundary. Weathered ex-cricketer faces with a bit of lurid red lippy and maybe some blue eye shadow.

I like to think its an ABC radio tradition, perhaps started by Neville Oliver, one dull afternoon in 1978 in Christchurch or Manchester or Durban. He liked a laugh.

Maybe they only do it for the morning session of the first day of each First Test. Then perhaps, for the Second test of a series, they all come as Charlie Chaplin.