Month: April 2011

Don’t Mention Hamburgers Harry!

HOW DO I GET OFF THE BUS!?!?

I haven’t done one of these in a while…

The other day I was searching for the lyrics to bizzaro masterpiece Buffalo by Stump. Unable to locate them anywhere online I decided I should have a go at transcribing them myself.

Such a task is not exactly easy. The words make little sense, and the last third of the song is a mishmash of sped up, slowed down, distorted and overlayed speech of which only some phrases are actually comprehensible. Nonetheless, I persevered and present the results below.

(It helps to understand the song if one is aware that it’s a critique of idiotic American tourists wandering around London)

BUFFALO – by Stump

Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!
Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!

It’s blubbery, Burberry baby!
It’s blubbery, Burberry!

Big! Bop! Be-bop! Be-bop-be!
Boppa-loola!

Big! Bop! Be-bop! Be-bop-be!
Boppa-loola!

In terrylene tartan lady!
In terrylene tartan lady!

Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!
Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!

How much is the fish? How much is the fish?
How much is the chips? Does the fish have chips?

HOW MUCH IS THE FISH!? HOW MUCH IS THE CHIPS!?
HOW MUCH IS THE FISH!? DOES THE FISH HAVE CHIPS!?

I don’t want a drink but I’ll go to the bar,
I’d go for a walk but I ain’t got a car,

Exclamation mark kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick,
Exclamation mark ex-exclamation mark kick kick kick kick kick kick kick,

I like when it’s different but it’s just not the same,
(I like when it’s different but it’s just not the same)
The weather is perfect except for the rain,
(The weather is perfect except for the rain)

Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!
Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!

Immaculate molars baby!
Immaculate molars baby!

Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!
Big! Bottom swing! Big bottom! Swinga-linga!

How much is the fish?
How much is the fish?
Don’t mention hamburgers Harry!
And for god’s sake don’t (phase?)
I forgot the toothpaste!
Waiter! Waiter!
(Incomprehensible)
I forgot the toothpaste!
I forgot the toothpaste!
Waiter!
(Incomprehensible)
What’dya mean I have to queue?
I packed your suitcase Marilyn!
Look! There’s a Libyan!
(Incomprehensible)
How much is the fish?
How much is the fish?
How much is the fish?
How do I get off the bus?
How do I get off the bus?
Don’t mention hamburgers Harry!
Is that the Queen’s house?
I’ll have some bitters please!
(Incomprehensible)
Don’t mention hamburgers Harry!
I’ve forgotten the toothpaste!
Waiter! Waiter! Waiter!
HOW DO I GET OFF THE BUS!?!?

It’s a Bloody Outrage!

I’d have called it a Chuzwozza!

I am, by default, a Monarchist.

What I mean by this is that I’m not a Republican. I’ve never really seen the point in Australia going through all the hassle and expense of dumping the monarchy when they don’t cost us that much, and don’t really do anything to us. I mean, sure, the Queen could mess with our laws and such, but she’s far too smart, and hence doesn’t. I can vaguely appreciate the points made about our head of state being a foreigner, but then issues of nationality and patriotism and such have always seemed slightly suspicious to me – I’ve always instinctively felt that patriotism is but one step from nationalism, and nationalism one step from fascism. Put me down with H.G.Wells – my true nationality is mankind.

So I’m a de-facto Monarchist.

Which is not to say I have any great affection for the Windsors. If the majority of Australians want to kick them to the curb and have a Republic, I have no objections whatsoever. That’s democracy. And it’s going to happen, probably within the next 20 years when all the die hard Monarchists (ie: the Elderly) die off and the die hard Republicans (ie: the Young) take over. It’s inevitable, and is known as progress. On the day the papers are signed and the Australian Monarchy abolished – well I won’t be out there in the crowd cheering, but neither will I be in the crowd booing and hissing. I’ll just be watching the whole hoo-haa on TV, thinking “what a waste of time”, and probably eating a sandwich.

So, my reaction to the Royal Wedding has mostly been one of wishing they’d just get it over with so the TV schedule can get back to normal. Or at least that was the case until the Chaser scandal.

The story in a nutshell. The Australian national broadcaster – the ABC – has purchased two live feeds of the wedding from the BBC. One with commentary by some BBC bigwig, the other without commentary. The commentated feed will be shown on ABC 1, while the uncommentated feed was going to be shown on ABC 2 with local commentary by comedy troupe the Chaser. Was is the operative word as as soon as Clarence House heard about it they whipped off a communiqué to the ABC saying that if the Chaser broadcast wasn’t cancelled, then both feeds would be cut, and the ABC wouldn’t get to show the wedding at all.

This violates what I consider to be one of the most important functions of the Australian Monarchy – leaving us alone to do our own thing. If the monarchy is suddenly going to start interfering in Australian domestic affairs and – even worse – inflicting censorship, then as far as I’m concerned they can go do physically implausible things to themselves. Mocking our (supposed) social superiors is part of the Australian identity, and if the monarchy isn’t willing to go along with that then they no longer represent who we are as a people, and are as redundant as the most rabid Republican claims they are.

So, basically, what I want to say is Queen Elizabeth, if this kind of thing continues you’ve lost my vote!

A Universe Built on Bad Puns

For Tanith! For Verghast! For cold and flu relief!

In the next Gaunt’s Ghosts novel Dan Abnett should have the Ghosts face a Chaos cult called the Histi.

That way they could fight them with anti-Histi-mines!

(Yes, yes, I’ll go drive over my head with a chimera now…)

Baby, I’m Getting Better

I could leave my room, my cocoon, find the door and walk out to the sun

Well, after a couple of months of extreme stress at work, egg-induced illness over the weekend, the general hurly-burly of Easter and the circadian disruption of getting up insanely early for the ANZAC dawn service yesterday, I’m actually starting to feel human again. By this time tomorrow I might actually be up to doing useful things, rather than creeping around muttering “things, things, yes, we must do things, so many things to do” like Gollum ;D

In the meantime here are a couple of fantastic mini documentaries I’ve been meaning to promote for ages. They’re both about the urban development of London and – no! Wait! Don’t leave! They’re very entertaining! Honest!

If you doubt my recomendation (and if so, what the hell is your problem? ;)) just watch the second one, which is more polished and contains a good deal more surrealism. But honestly, you should watch them both, ideally in order.

Enjoy!

Revenge of the Eggs

The chickens are restless

Happy Belated Easter to all!

I’ve been having problems with my computer, my phone and my health this weekend (ironically I ate some bad eggs at the Galleria on Saturday – spent much of the last two days semi-comatose) which means I haven’t been able to get emails or SMS’s out to everyone – but rest assured you’ve all been in my thoughts and I should be in touch soon.

In the meantime here’s something to keep you all entertained.

Tales from the Train

Riding the rails

This story isn’t mine. I don’t even know if it’s true. I simply overheard it on the train the other day, and it’s so good that I had to share it.

So there’s thig guy who’s a grafitti bomber, or whatever they call themselves nowadays (damn young people). He and some of his fellow bombers have snuck into the railyards in Welshpool and have been spraying up some carriages on a freight train. One of their mates arrives late and brings McDonalds with him, so they all settle down on top of a carriage to eat.

The train starts.

The guy telling the story bails. He lands face first in the gravel by the side of the track and pulls himself to his feet, yelling for his mates to jump off. Half of them are too scared to leap, and the others are having too much fun. He runs alongside the train until it outpaces him, and his mates ride off into the distance. With nothing else to do  he heads home.

Six hours later he gets a phone call. It’s from his mates. The train didn’t stop or even slow down until it reached the goldfields and they’re now stuck in Kalgoorlie with no way home and nothing but the clothes on their backs, the keys to their cars (550km behind them) and the handful of change they had in their collective pockets…

There’s any number of reasons why that’s probably not true, but God damn I hope it is 😀

Make a daft noise for Easter

Penitet me.

Vide equus meus. Mirum est equum! Degustabis equus meus…

Sicut fructus uva passa gustat!

Quam cum iubis fit equum demulceri volatilis apparatus. Transfiguration Et vice versa cum trahitur phallus!

Obscena quod!

Ita putas? Non ego te certiorem unde fetus facta est sucus. Sucis dulcus. Sucis dulcus. Sucis dulcus. Sucis dulcus!

Adepto in equum et ducam per totum mundum et ceteris omnibus!

Corrigendus est me vobis. Totum continetur totius mundi…

Mulier taceat! Adepto in meus equum!

Red Herring

They’re quite good at making chicken.

Over the weekend, in a spirit of scientific enquiry (and because I didn’t feel like cooking and equally didn’t feel like having chicken) I decided to check out Red Rooster’s recently added fish and chips menu.

In order to provide a valid assessment I decided to have the fisherman’s basket, which includes a little bit of everything. My findings were as follows…

Chips: The chips were, as always, excellent. 10/10

Salt and Pepper Squid: The salt and pepper squid was distinctly lacklustre. The coating was stale, floury and tasteless and the squid was oily and soft. 4/10

Prawns: The prawns were passable – there’s not much you can do to harm a prawn – but nothing really special. 5/10

Fish: The fish was pretty bad. Well, actually the fish was OK, it was the batter that was problematic. I’m not sure exactly what it tasted of – if I had to hazard a guess I’d say chipboard – and it was quite hard to chew through, which is not a quality you really want in food. Minus the batter the fish was about the quality you’d get at the average fish and chip place, which is to say passable but a bit oily – not anything you’d go out of your way to recommend. 3/10

So, my considered opinion on Red Rooster’s move into fish and chips? They’re quite good at making chicken.

Westfail

Weighted Companion Cubes

So, Westfield are setting up a “virtual shopping mall”, featuring all the stores present in their physical shopping centres.

Or at least the ones willing to pay even more than they’re already gouged for to obtain a “virtual lease”.

So they can be on an e-commerce site. On top of the e-commerce sites they almost certainly already have.

Oh, and they’ll pay a commission back to Westfield on all sales.

Sounds a lot like the “virtual shopping malls” that did so well in the late 90’s. Remember them?

Thought not.

I mean I’m not saying it won’t work.

I’m just saying it probably won’t.

Prove me wrong Westfield dudes!

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