After Grog Blog

OPENING A CAN OF SPAMS!

Yesterday's little article gave us today's big one.

Race Rows. Local councils. Discrimination. Progress Associations? Lawyers. Pork. Short of sex, the lot!

MUSLIMS could be caught in the middle of a legal and racial row over Hume Council's controversial ham ban....And they warn it is almost certain to spark racial tensions likely to adversely affect Muslims.

Can you imagine it? Poor Mohammed's walking down Sydney road when a red Torana SLR500 tools past and a drunken bogan pokes his ugly face of racism out the window. He's got a can of VB in one hand and a bent PJ Extra Mild in the other. Through brown teeth he screeches; "YOU DON'T EAT HAM!" Yow! That hurts! What an evil swine pig genius!

And what about Graeme Marr who....

said Hume's pork ban denied him the right to enjoy his food of choice.

What's the bet he's had a building approval disallowed.

On second thoughts, you know something? I'm not going to bother. Give it to Bolt. I'd intended to have a lash. I was back at the end of my run-up, ball polished and ready for action. If I couldn't get some lift out of this pitch then I wasn't trying. Then it hit me. It's stupid. It doesn't need me. It speaks for itself.

BLOG JAM

The bugger with Blogger seems even worse this morning, if that's at all possible. I've had three goes at posting this blog, my hits are way down and I've only been able to access two Blogger sites. The rest have knocked me back. If anyone manages to get through to here and reads this message can they please respond with smoke signals. Or leave a comment.

Mmmmmm! PORK CHOPS!

Sorry Fatso. Off the menu. And there'll be no more cracks about snouts in the trough either because the Hume City Council is no longer Big on Pig. Why do they have to ban the ham? Just put shiftakofteshazgoat on the menu. Wonder if you can still get a hamburger?

By the way, what about beer?

DAYS OF THUNDER?

Tell us! Don't hold back! What ARE the others???

NOSE TO THE GRINDSTONE!

Parte the Seconde

Speaking of how hard people work (see below), I had to go in for a hearing test today. Phew! Tough gig! 10 Bloody 50. 10 of 11 for you grammatically challenged Amerikanskis. I had to get out of bed at Kwaaarta aaafta ten! Rough. Coffee please. Hot. Black. Strong.

The test was one of those daunting examinations of stamina where they lock you in a soundproof booth, in a soundproof caravan, in a soundproof garage. Think Russian dolls. They then fire various low intensity beeps down your lughole. After an arduous 5 minutes of listening for beeps, bleeps and boops, and in response pushing a large black button I went for a cup of tea and a jam tarte. I needed it.

As I approached the common room I could hear the unmistakably dulcet tones of your common & room Education Department tea break conversation….

"Kennett's a BEEP! Howard's a BEEP! Costello's a BEEP! Reith's a BEEP!" Get the drift? No? Well, BEEP you!

Anyhoo, as soon as I walked in the door there was an audible "Shhhh! That'll do." There followed a collective sense of discomfort as the room decided on an appropriate topic to change to. A Donald Duck style I-wonder-if-he-noticed (No whistling) sang froid accompanied this subtle change. When finally conversation returned to the room the salient themes went something along the lines of "Chomp. Munch. Smack. Slurp." Not much change there, you might think.

Unfortunately for the rest of us, the school’s self-appointed knower of everything there is to know (and a little bit more) didn’t get the hint. He’s probably never been able to get used to the notion there’s a Right in the ranks.

Now, what you need to know about K.All is that he thinks he’s funny. Hmmm, I suppose he may be, a hearty round of stentorian guffaws DOES accompany every blistering witticism. His. Trouble is, he hasn’t realised his double overhead cam with air-conditioning ready to drive away gagwriter, The Man With No Ink, is not funny either. A sample….

”Abdul Kennett beeped it up! Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Abdul. Get it?” Nope!

”Eyebrows Howard beeped it up! Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Eyebrows. Get it?” Ungggg!

”Quarter Pounder beeped it up! Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Quarter Pounder. Get it?” Yes. K. Very funny. For the uninformed Q.P is K’s nickname for the Head of School whose name is the same as an international fast food chain that doesn’t end in Chicken or King. Get it? No? Well BEEP you again!

Why they bother trying to hush up this kind of material is beyond me. Beyond even Steven Hawking and Albert Einstein for that matter. I’m not about to engage him in ”debate” anyway! To quote that time-honoured witticism on the common room wall….

”How can you soar like an eagle when you’re working with idiots.” Or something.

Sadly, about now (Ten of One), K's finally realised everyone left the room two hours ago and all that time he'd been talking to the fridge. I think I can hear it groaning.

NOSE TO THE GRINDSTONE!

Jaysus! I can't believe how hard some people work! On the other hand....

Need some financial guidance? Well, don't go here! Or here! Or here! Or here! Or here! Learning aides? Buy Lego instead! Environmental advice? Buy a pot-plant! Need a phone? "Please hold. We value your business and we'll be with you as soon as one of our consultants is available." Sur. Prise! Cue the music!

When I got home tonight there were 75 emails in my inbox. The majority of which related to the following significant workplace issue....

"Name the 20 past & present AFL players who have had hyphenated surnames...."

1 Arthur  BARR-KEMP
2 Len BOYD-GERNY
3 Che  COCKATOO-COLLINS
4 David COCKATOO-COLLINS
5 Donald COCKATOO-COLLINS
6 Danny DEL-RE
7 Rochford DEVENISH-MEARS
8 Dick FENTON-SMITH
9 Robert FORSTER-KNIGHT
10 Audley GILLESPIE-JONES
11 Gary LAWSON-SMITH
12 Rod LESTER-SMITH
13 Hector LINGWOOD-SMITH
14 Bruce MCMASTER-SMITH
15 Simon MINTON-CONNELL
16 Trent ORMOND-ALLEN
17 John PETER-BUDGE
18 David RHYS-JONES
19 Lewis ROBERTS-THOMPSON
20 Ivor WARNE-SMITH

And how come you bone-idle, big-money, fat-cat, gouge merchants forget first year Docker hyphen, Leigh Wardell-Johnson. Lord help us! Not content with bludging on the boss-clock you can't even get the question right!

WHAT A BIG PAIN IT'S BEEN IN FOOTBALL!

Today in the Australian there's an item from Patrick Smith (They haven't updated yet) about the Imbroglio at Hawthorn. In it he criticises the attempt to blame Hawk skipper Shane Crawford for the present problems besetting the family club. In Smith's words�.

"Now, to suggest this is because Crawford has thespian ambitions which he displays on a segment in the Footy Show is to sense a group of players, and even a board, who are desperately trying to blame everyone bar themselves for their apathy.".

I agree. To blame the best-prepared player in the league for his team's troubles is plainly ludicrous. That�s right! Name me a fitter footballer! Especially when it revolves around his part-time (Reported as half an hour a week) theatrics.

Crawford's a player that any club in the league would love to have. What's more he's about the only person at Hawthorn busting a gut to get the club over the line each week. Granted, by some convoluted Napoleon Bonaparte meets Quentin McHale hyperformula he mightn't be the best captain in the league, but there's no one else at Hawthorn who stands out who could do the job better. And no-one else there who works anywhere near as hard at his game. Even last week when the Hawks were smashed by Essington, he got the most possessions. So, enough Crawford bashing please. It ain�t his fault.

However, it's not about Crawford I'm primarily concerned. In fact I don't give a toss if they come bottom. I hate Hawthorn and the nasty membership-card burning, gap-toothed, drooling simpletons who call themselves Hawthorn fans. They've been spoilt! They've had it too good! In my lifetime they've had more success than any other club has. So, a few years on the bottom won't hurt them. And if does? If they go out of business? Shrug. So what! More money for the rest of the Melbourne clubs.

Nope, Hawthorn's not the issue. You may think otherwise, but no, Hawthorn ain�t my problem. True! That present position is firmly occupied by the Footy Show�s "satirical?", House Of Bulger, and to a lesser extent the pathetic dream schtick they dished up on the Sunday Footy Show. The one hosted by media puppet Gary Lyon. Please! Let Lou Richards rest in peace. Whaddaya mean; "He's not dead yet?" He sure looks it.

To paraphrase Isaac Newton after the football landed on his head; �WHY?�

Now it's true, I hardly ever watch the Footy Show now. Players mumbling club doctored cliches is neither informative, intelligent or entertaining. Neither is Eddie spruiking Collingwood. Nor Sam Newman dressing up as a drunk. Or mocking morons. Or the incessant shilling of mobile phones, cars, airlines or personal promotional products. Usually bad sporting books/biographies. Or collections of sporting jokes. The show lacks spontaneity and has become unfunny, over-blown and full of it's own self-importance. Continually (as ever with Nine) mistaking, or maybe not caring about, ratings for quality.

Ask yourself why the laughter always sounds the same. Or why the cheers are always the same. Do you think it�s because Spider Everitt has just delivered a riposte worthy of Wilde? Luke Darcy a caustic put-down Dorothy Parker would envy? Of course not. There�s a cheer leader. They virtually don�t let you in unless you sign a contract directing you to laugh/cheer on-cue. Let me spell it out. S-t-u-d-i-o A-u-d-i-e-n-c-e. As dim a witted bunch of slow learners that ever strode the tide of TV Times. It may as well be canned laughter. Ever wondered why there�s so may puzzled looks on the audience faces. These are first timers. Probably last timers. They haven�t spotted the gag. They�d need an electron joke-o-scope to spot the humour. They�re wondering why everyone is rolling about as if Woody Allen has just told the story of Mrs Berkowitz and the Moose. Those that are genuinely laughing are on a day-trip from Mont Park Psychiatric Hospital. And they think they�re at the zoo and gawping at wanking meerkats.

Now it�s sunk to a new low. The skit segment The House Of Bulger is about as bad as TV gets. It�s the kind self indulgent filler that only a show that thinks it can get away with anything does. It�s a cross between Skit House and the short lived, Arcade. Only worse. That may sound funny. Well, I guess it is. But not in a pleasant way. To get an idea of the laugh-a-decade sensation try placing a banana skin (Eternal comedy prop) in the middle of your kitchen floor and continually slipping on it so that you fracture your eyesocket on the corner of the cutlery draw. Champagne comedy, not. And just as painful as sitting through Bulger.

If Nine have any sense at all they�ll spot the dud. I�m surprised the big fella hasn�t rung up and squashed it like he did that Doug Mulray stink-beetle back in 1992. The stunned silence as they throw back to the panel, before they take their laugh-cue, should be indication enough the skit stinks. Tottie Goldsmith�s another. Australia�s own Ted McGinley. And the fact that half the audience at home goes for an extended tea-break. Or changes the channel. Once Big Kezza susses that the segment will axed quicker than you can say THE Bold and THE Beautiful.

The Footy Show spent hours knocking Live & Kicking. Seven�s pathetic attempt to cash in on the footy/variety show connection. With it�s cheap stunts and cringingly lame segments. Todd Viney anyone? Doug Hawkins setting his chest hair on fire? Or sculling beer upside-down?  Well, split my sides! Sadly the Footy Show�s become exactly what L&K tried to be. The only difference is that Nine have always sold a show better and they�ve always had better set designers. They LOOK more professional. Doesn�t mean it�s better TV. It just seems better. Don�t be fooled punters.

If you want real footy talk with natural humour and consistent attention to detail check out Fox League Teams. It�s streets ahead and has a real asset in ex-Essington  ruckman John Barnes.

Remember, the Footy Show wins Logies. Say no more!

COWS!

Cows with guns!

Also via Presurfer

SOY DECAF LATTÉ

You're gay!

I.M.B.Y

I don't mind the local council making it hard to park round here. After all, it's where I live and it can be a bugger trying to find a spot. Especially when the Tiges are playing at the MCG.

I don't even have much of an objection to the fact that they've just slapped a $20 charge ($40 for extra ones up to three) on our once free annual parking permit. As long as it frees up parking spaces for the resident. The streets here are chockers!

However, let's not kid ourselves that the primary consideration is drinking and the driving....

Cr Di Natale said the bans would make streets safer by discouraging drink-driving. "If people bring their cars and park outside the bar, there's more inclination for them to get in their cars and drive home after they have been drinking,"

Cr Di Natale is Green (PDF). My local council is Green. So, say it loud Deb! You want fewer cars! It's OK! I want fewer cars.

Then again, just maybe the Herald Sun could have mentioned the fact too.

PS: Strictly on-topic; Backstreet Parker?

GRANT LEE BUFFALINCOLN

Good site. Civil War. Pictures.

Via Plep. More Pictures. Ou est La Horde?

F***** INAPPROPRIATE!

"You f***** grub! You're a f***** grub!"

F***** grubby!

SINGH HER PRAISES?

Lately there's been a lot of fish-wrapping dedicated to Vijay Singh's refusal to play with Annika Sorenstam. And his, now typical and pathetic "I was taken out of context". No you weren't! Stand by your comments you squibb!

Patrick Smith has also mentioned it in Today's Article. For what it's worth, I agree with both Smith and Eldrich Tigger who suggest she should play more than the one scheduled tournament. Let's see exactly how good she is. One weekend won't tell us anything.

Robert Lusetich also has an article in today's Australian. Unlinked of course. I can't be bothered navigating around their website in a vain search for an article I know I'll never find.

Anyhoo, in making his point about gender matches he tenders the oft repeated precedent of the Billy Jean King v Bobby Riggs match from 1973. Jaysus! Can we stop that analogy. Better still, let's terminate it with extreme prejudice and bury it deep down in a mass grave somewhere in Siberia.

That match was between the world's Number 1 female player, playing at the height of her powers and an aging, never-was, loud mouth blowhard. A dickhead to boot. There was never any doubt that Little Miss Moffatt would win. She was a much better player and probably would have beaten him in his prime. If you really want to settle that argument put up Lleyton Hewitt against Serena Williams. Watch him flog her 6-0, 6-0, 6-0 while watching Rocky, eating hot-dogs and sculling beers at end changes.

Golf's different. Sorenstam's not in danger of getting aced or tackled or out-sprinted or clubbed behind the ear. From a physical standpoint, all she's got to worry about is her driving length. She's bound to be shorter off the tee but there's nothing, at the moment, to suggest her game will be technically lacking. If it is, let's find out what her short-comings are. Now we get a chance to see her and the best male golfers go head to head in their prime and therefore make a valid comparison.

However, you would expect the blokes to win, but you won't know unless you put the match on.

Patrick also makes mention of Gabriel Zombie and his refusal to stand by his comments last week regarding Melbourne coach Neil Daniher. I agree with him that the Zombie should have stood by his comments. There's nothing at all wrong with the President indicating to the footy public that a losing coach is under pressure. As Daniher himself said, "It's bloody obvious!"

However, it's typical of Smith's nasty streak that he tries to make a point out of the Zombie's subsequent apology to the footy department. Maybe he was struggling to fill his word quota. There's nothing at all wrong with Zombie fronting the players to reassure them there's no chance of any board upheaval and apologising for any indication to the contrary. Smith's assertion that Zombie "is now contrite about something he swore he didn't say" is typical media nitpicking.

I've no doubt the Zombie over-emphasised his initial position. No doubt that he talked it down in a clumsy way. No problem with him apologising to the players. BUT. There's no doubt that the essence of what he said was correct. In fact, "The bleedin' obvious". The media could have, maybe should have, treated it as such and recognised that a president berating his players is not indicative of the end of the world but more a case of "What's new!"

Coincidentally on a completely unrelated tangent. Nothing at all to do with anything. Not trying to deflect the spotlight away from Melbourne....

Ian Dicker is Under The Pump. Shane Crawford can't Handle The Pressure. Peter Schwab is Feeling The Heat. And the Hawks Plunge To New Depths.

WE ARE NOT MUSED

MELBOURNE MUSIC MAESTRO & MOLLY MONICA MANUFACTURER MEETS MAKER

Sad news. Vale Stan Rofe!

Amazing! I was listening to Brian Wise interview Stan only two weeks ago on RRR's Off The Record and he sounded right as rain. Turns out he'd been diagnosed with cancer only a couple of days before that.

SUE GRABBIT & RUN

Got a bit of a surprise the other day. I'd just arrived home after another satisfactory and rewarding session shaping the future of tomorrow's captains of industry.

The first thing I did was sit down and go through my inbox. Lots of goodies there. Zylacor wants me to lose weight. Zrmxo asks "DOES THE SIZE OF YOUR PENIS REALLY MATTER?" Stanley Baker wants to show me a "Proven money sucking method". (They connected?) Ernesto Boggs has amazing Diazepam. Jocelyn Howard wants to meet me. Viagra promises me a HUUUUUUUUGE readership. And I've won $1000.

Anyhoo, once I'd finished applying to/for all of them (Don’t ask. I’ve got issues) I started to read the evening edition of Private Crikey. The one in the brown paper e-mail. Rayjo ratings. Three-ore/Good. Abe/Bad. The budget. Yawn. WA politics. Ha Ha. Paul Keating & meerkats. Huh? SA politics. Don Dunstan still Premier? Then I got to the last one....

20. IT'S ALWAYS GREAT TO SEE YOUR PICTURE IN THE PAPER

Just in case you haven't seen it, here's the photo from the West Australian that Fremantle Docker Paul Haselby is not too happy with. He's thinking of suing because a tiny bit of his tackle was shown in the first edition before the airbrush was applied. Don't be too precious Paul.

Now, given Crikey's recent collar feeling "Allo three times" and subsequent wallet lightening over issues legal, and that there was talk around of Haselby taking the matter further it surprised me they'd risk another visit to the beak. Never the less, bugger Crikey, I thought. That's their problem. I'm just glad they put themselves out there to bring us some tasty titbits. So, I clicked on the link and while the page was loading wondered what the law says in regard to these matters. Don't forget, Australia ruined the Internet. Thanks Paranoid Joe! I also asked myself the more significant question of whether I'd like a cup of tea or coffee.

One thing was bothering me though. I couldn't work out what it was but I knew something was amiss. I had that unsettling did-I-leave-the-keys-in-the-ignition feeling. Then I noticed the address as Paul's picture appeared on the screen. Where've I seen that before? That looks vaguely familiar, "Ay. gee. bee. log. blogspot. com. What the?!? I know that! That's umm. That's err. THAT'S ME!"

Well! "Knock me down with a feather Uncle Clavdivs!" There followed an immediate self congratulatory wallow as I'd done something that had appeared in Crikey. Regular readers would attest (In court, I hope) that I've always maintained Crikey's a fine organ of record and never, ever, not once, just then, even the other day, referred to it as a down market, left-wing student rag. Unfortunately this feeling was superseded by a nagging notion that if Crikey could get slugged 25 grand for defaming Nick Bulkus then it wouldn't be much of a snip for Haselby to set his manager, Wayne Loxley, onto the entire editorial staff of the After Grog Blog Picayune. Namely, me. The last thing I need is for Haselby’s lawyers to whack me with something short, blunt and nasty. Steve Price for instance.

Then again, why would he bother? He probably realises by now that the original outlet for the picture, The West Australian, is just another satire mag. Sort of like New Viz. The one without any funny bits.

I haven’t heard anything yet. Although haselby.jpg mysteriously appeared in a Pomgolian Blog (That's veerrrrrry strange. The link's not working. Hmmm.) and that old rudy, Ma Yobbo’s been doing her best to thin out the impact of any impending litigation.

Coincidentally, Wayne Loxley was my coach when I was dominating blitzing getting the occasional kick sitting on the bench for Subiaco Reserves way back in that far away decade, the 1980’s. Unfortunately I’d fallen under the protective wing of then team mate and present incumbent Member For South Barwon Michael Crutchfield and had been introduced to beer and socially unacceptable behaviour. Dare I say our behaviour was ”Inappropriate”.

In closing, your honour, I’ve only one thing to say in my defence, CRIKEY!

RECITE AFTER ME....

"I'm a Naughty Boy!"

Via a J-Walking Efemerist Collectivist Stuff Getting Girl.

CH-CH-CH CHANGED

NEW! IMPROVED! BIG BLOGS! RIGHT HERE! GET'M WHILE THEY'RE HOT!

YAHOO! No No. Not the internet thingo! Just YAHOO! As in HOORAY. HUZZAH! A GLASS WITH YOU SIRRAH! I've just changed from Big Poop to iinet. This is great news! Great news for me. Great news for you. IT IS! I'm now up for some BIG blogging! Big! Bigger! BIGGEST!

More WORDS! Words like Fish. Schottky Diode. Eggplant. And Incunabula. "Ooh. Err. Naughty boy!" Stop that!

And LINKS! LINKS! MORE LINKS! SECRET LINKS!

Anyhoo, go and see my new and improved Tosser post. Down there. Below. Further. Jaysus! Idiot! That's right. There. There's even Paragraphs!

THE WEST AUSTRALIAN

A family paper? What's Your Decision? Centimetre Perfect football coverage?

UPDATED TOSSER! - YEP. YOU FOUND IT! RIGHT HERE!

Well you heard it HERE first. One ball was all it took me. Jamie Jermaine Lawson's a chucker! Even the Spanker agrees! It was also the main topic of debate on each of the last two Fox Cricket Shows. And Patrick Smith on the radio on Monday morning. "He chucks. It's as simple as that. He can't be allowed to play!" He wrote the same Yesterday. And the District Firsts umpire I was talking to on Saturday. Now he's been officially CITED (Look at that arm!). The ump I talked to also said most of the umps he knows reckon Murali's a dead set javelin thrower. Personally I reckon he throws darts.

Anyhoo, it's becoming a habit but I again take issue with Spanky who contends the issue’s become an emotional one. "Unfortunately, emotion and politics take over when the matter of bowling actions is raised." He oughtta know! It was he who commented on the Boxing Day test in 1995 when Murali was no-balled. "A travesty. A disgrace. A black day. End of the world. Shattering. Etc." Not much emotion in that, is there? Cool your jets paddle-arse! It's also been Roebuck who's been at the forefront of the emotional push that maintains "Murali's a lovely boy. Nice smile. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Wouldn't throw. Sends his mother flowers. And things."

To my knowledge Roebuck's never come out and stated that he believes Murali throws. And Murali obviously throws. Spanker always hints at Aussie bias, cultural superiority or some scurrilous racist undertones. And that hoary old dud that says "What are you talking about! Brett Lee throws! No credibility teacher boy!"

Well, if he's prepared to concede calm and considered remedial action for Lawson; "No one need get upset about this suggestion" then it's on him to try to take the heat out of the situation. He still doesn't seem to want to acknowledge it though. "Several bowlers, most of them spinners, have been dealt with in this way and most have returned with the problems ironed out" No points for guessing who he's writing about. And Murali still chucks.

This all makes his comment that "If cricket buries its head in the sand, then the laws of the game might as well be torn up." seem all the more bizarre. Some of them HAVE been torn up. And primarily at the behest of pundits like Roebuck. The umps used to be able to call a throw. Not any more. They instigate a long-winded and flawed process that ultimately doesn't stop the bowler chucking in a match. Murali passing muster at a tainted international forum of Bowling Judges doesn't mean he can toss darts at the footmarks. If I pass my driving test it doesn't mean I can drive at 150kph down the wrong side of the road brandishing a beer can and running down cyclists. Much as I'd lik....Oops!....buy a bike of my own.

The umpires MUST be given back the right to call a throw a no-ball. The pundits must also treat it in the same light as overstepping the line. As just another bowling error. If you can't, or won't, bowl within the rules then you can't play. Simple as that. There's no point tearing up the rules to accommodate cheating. No matter how much it impinges on the ability of some sides to win.

By the way; I've always maintained that Courtney Walsh chucked his fast one. He chucked the one that got McDermott in Adelaide in Jan 1993. Coincidentally he's Lawson's mentor.

BON VOY AGEE

After an intensive fact finding mission the Earthlings are heading back to base. They've many revealing pictures of Secret Rocks, Bouncing Rats & Rare Exotic Beasties. My high level contacts also inform me they've stolen the only copy of the Vegemite Recipe and are smuggling incriminating images of This Person, This Person and Me.

FUDGING

Age cricket writer Spanky Roebuck is not backward in coming forward when citing the writing of a certain Stratford glovemaker's son; "I am not gamesome, I do lack some part of that quick spirit that is in Andy Roberts." Herald Sun Faithworks writer Bryan Patterson therein quotes Chesterton ("Golf's just expensive marbles.") and often quotes a bible-bashing Nazarene carpenter on topics theological; "Thou shalt not with thy mallet thy thumb smoosh!" Even your's truly is prone to quote the classics; "Doh!" What we don't do, as far as I'm aware, is seek to give the false impression the quotes were delivered yesterday over a convivial beaker or two; "Wench! Some loaves, some fishes and two grails of house red. Terrence. Pray tell. How now for mitigation of this coach?"

Ap.Ro.Pos. Thursday there was a Trevor Grant article in the Herald Sun. Their archiving is archaic so no links. Under the headline This Year There Are No Excuses was an opinion piece about Melbourne's prospects for 2003. It was a double page spread covering all aspects of the club but there was obviously going to be some implicit criticism of coach Neil Daniher. Terry Daniher if you believe hardcore footy reporters Michelle Ainley and Rebecca Williams in Friday's Hun. In it he cited ex Bullgogs coach Terry Wallace....

My opinion is that he's a very well organised coach. But I believe if you get the better of Melbourne in the coach's box you'll more often than not hold sway.

Fair enough. He's a pundit now. It's his job to offer up opinions. Today, however, when asked by Caroline Wilson whether what he said was appropriate he replied that he hadn't said anything. Caro asked him how he came to be quoted in Thursday's paper. Turns out Grant didn't ask him. Turns out Grant had taken some stuff out of an article Wallace had penned in February. Turns out Wallace was upset he'd been quoted. And it turns out he wouldn't have said what he said in the current circumstances.

I don't reckon Grant's a bad journo but using the newspaper equivalent of file footage is dead lazy!

FAT TONY

Spammers are persistent. They never quit trying to sell you things. Money. Music lessons. Quilting books. Viagra. Nigeria. Naked teenagers. Big organs. Free Stuff. Double Too Late! Ooo Err. I even used it tonight. Pork.

PS: How do you pronounce GR10AWHT?

POP QUIZ

Do you read? Do you listen? Do you answer? I got Nine. Guessed two. Who's Gareth Gates?

GERONIMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

SHIT!

Watch that Last Step! It's a woozy.

UPDATE: Just saw the footage on the news. Ouch.

GET A LOAD O THEM APPLES

Show us your Mice!

"Oooh, you are awful!"

BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP

Ancient media proverb ask - "What's the sound of one truck backing?"

The Zomby yesterday....

"The pressure's well and truly on the football department."

The Zomby Today....

Szondy emphasised Daniher was "under no pressure whatsoever"

Caro Weighs In. Once more With The Girls. So does Patty Boy.

I have to admit the Zomby's got it all arse about. It's supposed to go like this....

Lurking Notebook, Pen & Trilby - "Gabriel, you've lost three on the trot. How do you think Neil Daniher going?"

Zomby - "Well, Lurker. Good question. Thank's for asking it. All of us here at the Melbourne Football Club are fully behind Neil. We believe he's the fourth best wonderful coach in the league. He's doing a fantastic job. We're wrapped and we'll be appointing a new coach in the morning."

Not like this....

Lurker - "Gabriel, how's Neil Daniher going?"

Zomby - "Well, Lurker. Good question. Thank's for asking it. We think the football department sucks. Everyone there's under notice. Neil's a goose. A bumbling bumpkin. In short, an appalling coach. Couldn't win a chook raffle. We've just re-signed him for three years."

Perhaps that�s what the pundits mean when they say he�s being naive. It�s footy-code for not telling porkies.

NUDGE NUDGE

Off field, errr, distractions perhaps?

SAY. NO. MORE.

BLOG STUFF

The Drivel Warehouse is out of stock and Stew's been Doing Too Many Lines.

WHEN IN ROME

Don't be a Christian!

Grog been suffering the Fairfaxis squeals if misbehaved
or drugs. Or
more correctly, lack of it. to me, drives
me across the point music was
still Da. Doo.

Do.

BUGGER

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to The Fifth Level of Hell!

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Extreme
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Extreme
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Extreme
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Test