Thursday night starting at Spleen on Bourke Street, I enjoyed an extraordinarily sophisticated evening of bloggers. In attendance were Boynton, Nabakov, Barista, Flute.T.D (Update: Sedge ducked off before I fronted) and obviously, Moi.
Moi? Well, I WAS clad head to toe in best black. Black skivvy, black tee-shirt, black 501s, black suede boots and black sox. Red & blue boxers, in case you're wondering. Very Melbourne, I'm told. Very chic. Anyhoo, I surely cut a fine figure of fashion.
I also arrived fashionably late and as I rocked up to the table, situated on the footpath of course, was immediately drawn into a conversation about Touch of Evil. Surely a good omen. This then morphed into a debate about the relative merits of Winter Kills.
As it happens, films and film people wove a tight thread through the evening. Quatermass and the Pit, Funny Bones, Oliver Reed, Dario Argento, Mario Bava, Ennio Morricone, Peter Sellers, The Killing, Whistle Down The Wind, The Shout, Flashman v Royal Flash and Ken Russell to name a few. We finished on Hammer Horrors.
Other topics discussed:
- Other bloggers -- No telling.
- The Pilbara and sickies.
- The Nullabor and crazed, criminal, lift-giving sickos.
- Fisherman's Bend and Beauforts. Or Grummans.
- Alan Clark and the Red Tops.
- Airfix, Revell and Tamiya.
- Goons in Fiji.
- Politicians who smoke.
- Politicians who "romp".
- Politicians who smoke after a "romp".
Topics not discussed:
- Eggs.
From Spleen we adjourned for dinner at The Italian Waiter's Club, and after the Waiter's went down to Myers Place for drinkies numerous. I drank peppy tea. Well, I AM a Tea-Totaller.
It was in Myers Place about two in the morning we learnt the startling truth about those lightweight Sydney Grogblogging wussies; they all fled at midnight.
In fact, as we were leaving I overheard Flute say Melbourne had it all over Sydney in the couth department. Offering much more in the way of culture, cuisine and ... err ... cooking, and was incredibly sophisticated and classy. Incredibly! Sydney, on the other hand, was a nasty, foetid cesspool of egos, superficiality, pretention, and going-home-at-midnight. Melbourne, he stated categorically, really must be the World's Best City.
Actually, he didn't say that ... but I could tell he wanted to.
For a good Egg Site see this English language Dutch site (the name means soft egg) with many good posts on Theo van Gogh.
Posted by: SB | 05 December 2004 at 18:00
A skivvy?
Posted by: Ferombah Hynde | 05 December 2004 at 18:11
How can anyone have a coherant conversation without eggs being involved...
Posted by: Adam 1.0 | 05 December 2004 at 18:31
Zacht Ei is a funny name for a blog with the content it carries. Not much soft or eggy about the TVG issue.
A skivvy, Frombah. Don't ask, just accept that I'm a VERY cool guy.
There was an somewhat oval undercurrent, Adam, but it just never surfaced into full-blow eggy chat.
Posted by: Tony.T | 05 December 2004 at 18:54
Maybe the tee-shirt was worn over the skivvy.
Posted by: SB | 05 December 2004 at 18:58
No, that's not cool. Remember, I'm VERY cool.
I am.
Posted by: Tony.T | 05 December 2004 at 19:04
I've seen you wear a tee shirt over a windcheater. It was pink and you looked like a nob.
Posted by: DJ | 05 December 2004 at 19:23
I must have been sitting on the unsophisticated side of the Spleen table. I was talking mainly cricket.
Think I may have had a few scrambled conversations later.
btw Caught a glimpse of Sedge just as I arrived. (Don't think I was hallucinating that early.) He may have been wearing Melbourne black too- or maybe a vice-regal shade of duck egg blue?
Posted by: boynton | 05 December 2004 at 19:36
D -- It was SALMON! Style was never your long suit. And anyway, it was over 20 years ago. I've moved onwards and upwards since then.
B -- Pah! Girls are always talking about cricket.
Chances are there was scrambled egg in your Spag Bog. With the beeef. Odd that. Beef in SB. Hmmm, as odd as three Es in beef.
Time to make an adjustment re GG.
Posted by: Tony.T | 05 December 2004 at 19:57
re GG?
r egg?
Posted by: boynton | 05 December 2004 at 21:45
Oeuf bleu de canard it was. When did safari suits ever come in any other colour?
Would have stayed longer than 30 seconds, but Lady Livia wanted to partake of some vice-regal assent.
"re GG? r egg?"
Even my late stepfather Reg?
Posted by: Sedgwick | 06 December 2004 at 09:50
Was that vice-regal ass ent?
Posted by: SB | 06 December 2004 at 10:22
Egg >----> Re egg >----> Reg >----> Sedge.
Spooky.
Posted by: Tony.T | 06 December 2004 at 12:00
Laptop working again!
Re: Melbourne v Sydney - Melbourne is pants.
Posted by: flute | 06 December 2004 at 13:48
Now, Flute, that's not what you said on Thurs ... Friday morning. As I recall, you mentioned something about moving here.
At least, that's the way I heard it.
Posted by: Tony.T | 06 December 2004 at 14:49
Melburnian bloggers sit around at cafe's and debate and talk about how cool they look. Brissy bloggers go to pubs, get rat-assed and talk about the next piss-up. Come on fella's, gonna have to do better than latte's and frappachino's...
Posted by: CB | 07 December 2004 at 18:44
Hold on there, CB ...
Melburnian bloggers sit around at cafe's and debate and talk about how cool they look.
We never debate the obvious.
Posted by: Tony.T | 07 December 2004 at 22:22
The Pilbara TAFE made me the bloke i am today- good topic that. Tony- you cut a fine figure ? Don't believe that one mate. And.....no one gives lifts around the Nullabor- well , no sane bloke anyway.
Posted by: Brett Pee | 08 December 2004 at 03:58
I once picked up two hitchers at Cocklebiddy. Rough customers, but pretty good guys.
And I went to the Karratha TAFE on Millstream Road. In fact, I was in the VERY FIRST CLASS they ever had.
Posted by: Tony.T | 08 December 2004 at 08:54
"Sydney, on the other hand, was a nasty, foetid cesspool of egos, superficiality, pretention, and going-home-at-midnight."
You say that as if it were a bad thing.
Posted by: James Russell | 12 December 2004 at 00:43
Yeah, good point, James. Sorry about that crack about Sydney being a "nasty, foetid cesspool of egos, superficiality and pretention", that was uncalled for.
The "going-home-at-midnight", though, that sucks. Lift your game, Sydney.
Posted by: Tony.T | 12 December 2004 at 12:33
aah Waiters Club - years since I been there. I suppose there is no need for them to sell sly grog these days. Makes me wish I had gone along. I can see you missed me.
Posted by: Francis Xavier Holden | 14 December 2004 at 17:42
You missed a big night, FX. Flutey marvelling at Melbourne, Barista popping monos on his treadly all the way down Bourke Street (what a lair), Boynton amazed that there was meat in her Spag Bog and Nabakov at one point went almost 24 seconds without talking with his hands.
BTW, what do you know about eggs?
Posted by: Tony.T | 14 December 2004 at 18:58
Bloody hell, I turn my back for five minutes and the Melbournites get all antsy. Bill Lawrie. Nuff said.
Posted by: Flute | 15 December 2004 at 12:59
C'mon, Flutey. That jibe doesn't begin to cover up all the jealous things you said about Melbourne.
I take your Bill Lawrie and raise you one Tony Greig.
Posted by: Tony.T | 15 December 2004 at 13:12
You're bluffing Tony, but I'll fold. I can't afford a person despised in three countries.
Posted by: Flute | 16 December 2004 at 10:17
A wise man knows he will never beat a hand-ful of Greigs.
Posted by: Tony.T | 16 December 2004 at 10:20