A cherry-picker investigates a tree from the inside. Click for a larger version on the ABC website. Photo credit: ABC News: Karl Hoerr
See the open window at the top? That’s my office. Read the full story here:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/05/27/2256870.htm
The boom arm on the cherry picker, which is essentially a steel I-beam about 80cm square, bent in half on impact. […]
You will be gratified to read that sensation is returning to my tongue. Obviously I don’t know why that news should affect you so, but that’s hardly my fault, is it? You sicken me. There, I’ve said it. No, wait: I love you. Let’s never argue again. Have a peanut. I wonder what they make the stuff out of that goes in dental anaesthetic?
We’ve ordered Thai food. ‘They say we can pick it up in twenty minutes,’ says the Evil Sulphura.
‘We should leave here in twenty minutes,’ I say. ‘It always takes at least half an hour, and I always end up sitting in that crowded bit at the front, waiting with all the other gullible losers who […]
The café is crowded, which gives me a chance to slink in undetected and loiter at the back to observe Justin. He is doling out muffins, coffee and bons mots with charismatic zeal to jonesing office-workers who offer little in the way of intercourse.
Certainly, less than I did.
I exit the office bursting with self-esteem and skip out onto Swanston Street with an impromptu soft-shoe shuffle of which Gregory Hines would have been proud. It’s a beautiful day, the finest in nearly a decade, for today I am bound for a café at which I intend to purchase a cup of coffee.
Full strength coffee.
Oscar, The Evil Sulphura and I have gone to see the new Bond film, Casino Royale. The first ten minutes takes place in a men’s bathroom, in which a fight involving broken urinals and wildly spraying plumbing leads neatly into Bond’s iconic flip-around-and-shoot-the-cameraman move.
It is exciting and violent and it awakens an urge deep in my bladder.
The following true story contains a greater proportion of uncouth words than is normally tolerated here at matlarkin.com. In keeping with our federal government’s push for a return to traditional family values, therefore, these have been substituted with family-friendly equivalents and italicised for reference. We trust this will not affect the reading experience. Thank you for your time.
What are we to do, when the impending choice is between the Devil and an eejit?
The LaTrobe Reading Room at the State Library of Victoria is possessed of such a tranquil, scholarly ambience that, in order to remind the reader of the perfect serenity he or she is privileged to enjoy, it has had to be randomly seeded with unoiled chairs which scream at the lightest touch like a bed full of climaxing banshees.
‘The thing is,’ says Oscar, draining his coffee, ‘is that the British one pound coin is very thick, and around the edge it has something written in Latin.’
‘Right,’ I say.
‘Or Welsh.’ He orders another latte. ‘One of those two. Which is the one with lots of ‘w’s?’
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