Old people would have you think that violent video games will make you murder your Grandmother, pimp out your sister and cheat at Scrabble. Here are 2 mins of quasi-reasonable arguments as to why that’s a crock of shit.
Tickets have just gone on sale for Fablemonger at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival from March 25 – April 17.
You can still get them on the door or via the Melbourne Comedy Festival website, but if you want to get them TODAY (and let’s face it, who wouldn’t), then head on over to the Ticketmaster site now and pick some up.
If you want to see the show but can’t get to Melbourne, the head to my gig page for a full list of the cities that I’ll be playing in Australia.
Of course, if anyone English had asked me about the cricket this morning, I’d have said “there’s a game on at the moment? I didn’t know”; but the truth is, I spent the morning bouncing nervously on the red swiss-ball I use for an office chair, completely unable to type anything of value as I listened to the commentary slowly eek itself, ball-by-agonising-ball over the radio.
We lost of course, and it was hugely disappointing, not because it looked like we would win (it never did), but because it looked like we could win, which is even worse.
A win when you “should have”, is no fun; in fact, it’s been the problem with Australian cricket for the last 15 years.
There’s no point celebrating when your world class-team absolutely thrashes some third world squad where the wicket-keeper can’t even afford gloves (I’m looking at you New Zealand), and why should there be? If there’s no contest, there’s no fun.
I don’t want to see Mike Tyson punch his opponent’s head clean-off the body in the first round because the best person they could find to fight him was a blind, four-year-old kid in a wheel chair (although if televised, that would rate well), I want to see a fight between two, evenly matched, equally reprehensible, human killing-machines.
Thankfully the departure of “Fingers” Warne, “Angry” McGrath and the big-hitting human-wingnut that is Adam Gilchrist, allowed the Australian cricket team to atrophy (it/s easier to accept than the fact that England may have improved). That, and a disastrous first-innings, resulted in an almighty second-innings run chase that looked impossible from the outset, and didn’t look any better after the English bowlers went through our top order like dysentery.
Our only hope for avoiding embarrassment and disgrace came in the form of the valiant, Clarke (and his squire Haddin) who not only showed that we weren’t going down without a fight, but at one stage looked like he might win he game, slay the dragon, save the princess and bang her in the car home, all at the same afternoon.
Unfortunately, a little bit of hope is a dangerous thing, and once Clarkey let Graeme Swann rip out his off stump, it was all-over, red-rover.
I’m sure Australians the world over are feeling not only disappointed, but also anxious at the verbal drubbing they’re going to get at the hands of every Englishmen they know (I’m in London and shitting myself). I think however, that we Aussies should all take heart: we may not win every single game that we play from now on, but at least we can actually celebrate a win when it comes, with all the sledging and bragging it deserves. We can shout and drink and swear and sing, content that the match was won fair and square, not in some one-sided, smash-fest against an opponent too incompetent to even realise they were playing (I’m still looking at you New Zealand).
I’m not sure whether it’s malnutrition, a lack of self-confidence or maybe it wasn’t breast-fed as a child, but there is something horribly wrong with the Australian dollar. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and suddenly the AUD is face-down on the canvas, losing blood and spitting out teeth. I don’t care if our dollar can’t throw a punch, but it should at least try to occasionally kick the Pound in the balls.
It would even be O.K. if all the other currencies were failing, but they’re all standing tall, leering at our dollar as it lies hog-tied on the floor, whimpering through a gimp mask. I’d like to think that it’s going to get up, but the Deutsche Mark has a boot at its throat and the Danish Kroner is fetching the Vasoline. I think it’s going to be a long recession.
The weird thing is, Australia would never accept this kind of pounding if it happened in any other area. If we were thrashed to within an inch of our life on the world sporting stage, then there would be a nation-wide uproar, a royal commission and lots of angry men in pubs. But when the Aussie Dollar goes down 5-0 to Paraguay, suddenly we pretend that don’t understand and we blame it on the finance boffins.
Well I think it’s time to take a stand, because it’s getting embarrassing, and I think I know why it’s happening. I think that our dollar likes to be punished. Here we were, all this time, assuming that our dollar hates being humiliated on the global markets, sneered at and pissed on by the other currencies, but I think that’s exactly what it’s into. We’ve got a dollar with masochistic tendencies, it likes the humiliation and pain.
Now I’m not presuming to know what’s right and wrong in the area of global economics, but I’d really prefer to have a less-kinky currency. Can swap this dollar out for a new one that doesn’t enjoy getting a regular pounding? If not, can we at least make sure that it knows what the safety word is?