This is what's wrong with cricket

Courtesy of Crinfo.com.

You're an international cricketer posing for a picture after a press conference. What to wear? Well, how about a baseball cap, tracksuit pants and thongs? And why not skip shaving too, just to complete the 'give a crap' look.

Question of the day:

why is the berocca ad so cheerful? surely 97% of their customer base is people nursing hangovers who want anything but b-b-bounce?

Sign of the Times - web for chocco's?

Sign of the Times - I'll have a large

Sign of the times: best no junkmail sticker, ever

Songs that sound similar

There She Goes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3X1YbJI_ah0&feature=related

Black Cab
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpgkG4TIyvE

Question of the Day: What is this advertising?

They arent facing the game, they are facing different directions and are happy....what are they so excited about?

Jukebox pub crawl of Melbourne

Choice is a helluva thing. It sets expectations and hope, gives one a feeling of control and that things may improve.

In this spirit of hope and good hope, the Sicilian, the Magpie, the Dwarf and the Rev started out on a cold winters afternoon in Melbourne for the Great Pub Jukebox Tour (GPJT). The idea was that the GPJT team would exercise their musical choice across Melbourne to determine which Jukebox was best.

The selection criteria was much debated and a constant shadow in the minds of the GPJT team in the weeks leading up to the day, though personal differences were put aside eventually for the good of the GPJT cause.

The first stop on the tour was The Greyhound in St Kilda, which is more widely known for its Drag shows of a saturday evening. Drag did seem to be appropriate, as the venue was closed and so no jukeboxing was to be had.

The next stop was the Prince of Wales on Fitzroy St, St Kilda, which was a vast improvement on the Greyhound in that it was open. It did get points off for not having a working jukebox, however gained a few nods of approval for the available song selection. Points were also stripped from "The Prince" for the steep price of a pot, as well as the number of Richmond fans present.

A short journey on the number 96 tram into the CBD brought the team to the Exford Hotel, widely renowned for being the hotel that many go to as its the only place serving at 4am. The Rev also recalled a story of involving the Exford in which one of its patrons had been lying, prone, on the stairs for some 8 hours before someone checked to see if he was alive. The Rev couldn't recall whether he was.

With these salubrious tales in mind, the GPJT team boarded the good ship Exford with heady anticipation and boy, was she sea-worthy!

The Exford scored maximum points for song selection, even snatching a bonus point for the video display to accompany the songs. Drink prices were also given the tick of approval, and the GPJT nearly had to be dragged off to the next venue.

There was some confusion with the next venue; a call to the Clyde hotel revealed that their jukebox was also out-of-order, and so the itinerary was quickly shuffled to make the East Brunswick club the next cab on the rank.

The team probably should have made at least one more call, as it turned out that the jukebox at the East Brunswick Club and the venue following, Hardimans in Kensington. The East Brunswick club also got points off for not having lights on in the womens bathrooms, though did recover a point for the installation of a portable heater under the pinball machines, keeping the spotty kids feet warm.

Hardimans was, and probably still is, absolute rubbish. The jukebox worked, though the staff wouldn't turn it on (not even for the GPJT team!) as they didn't like the sound. They obviously had inconsistent senses, as the smell of Hardimans was enough to drive the team off.

Last up was the old faithful, The Drunken Poet. Regarded by many as the best pub in Melbourne, "the Poet" loomed large like a beacon for the team, particularly after the trauma of Hardimans.

Unfortunately for the team, someone had decided to give a drunk a guitar and let him play to the crowd at the Poet. In fairness, he started well but his standards seemed to be inversely proportional to his sobriety (which was leaving on a jet plane).

Compiling the issue was the Dwarf's stomach, which took a turn for the worse after she made the amateur mistake of breathing in while at Hardimans, bringing a swift end to the night. Thankfully the stayers of the team, the Magpie and the Sicilian had the fortitude to stick out the deteriorating 'set' and managed to get a few plays of Whitesnake on the Poets jukebox.

While the day was an enjoyable one, the team was a little downhearted that the prospective choice had been stripped from them by publicans too lazy to get their jukeboxes fixed. Shame on you publicans, shame. To the good people at the Exford though, well done. Though maybe check that prone chap on the stairs.

Amen

The Prince

bar heater at the East Brunswick Hotel

Signs of the times: Advertisers are going back to basics

Im not sure if these guys are just trying to create awareness or just imprint the word "COFFEE" in my head. I didn't buy one, but I'm sure thinking about that word.

Cycling in Melbourne: The poor cousin of transport

Since returning back to Melbourne I have taken to commuting on my bike, an idea that I seem to share with a growing number of others. This may be a good news story or an advertisement for healthy living or environmental awareness, but its not. While the Victorian government has invested in bike paths (they even go to the lenghts of painting them green), the ability to ride safely in Melbourne has not been realised.

The number of people riding to work in Melbourne has increased exponentially over the last decade, with cyclists making up approximately 8% of peak hour traffic in the CBD. All this, coupled with the increase in the population which has also meant greater numbers of pedestrians and cars.

While I was quite fortunate in that I grew up riding my bike to and from school, or anyplace I wanted to visit before I had a car or could afford to use public transport regularly, most of these new cyclists don't have that experience - as most of the drivers don't have experience in sharing roads with them.

Further, there a number of the obviously 'new' cyclists whom I have observed who display incredibly aggressive behaviour while riding, and often shirk road laws as it suits them. This no doubt adds to the the number of accidents, as well as the bad feeling drivers have towards cyclists.

Some commentators suggest that cyclists should have to pay or be more heavily regulated to have access to roads, though this seems to go against the over-riding (pardon the pun) principles of encouraging healthy living and sustainable transport.

Adopting a different approach, the Metropolitan Police in London have addressed this behaviour by specifically targeting cyclists who break the law. This, to me, makes perfect sense.

Cycling should be encouraged for the reasons mentioned already, but only if its safe and promotes a better society. The aggressive cyclists who endanger themselves and others, while also creating badwill do nothing for a better society and thus need their bad behaviour modified as they display it.

Amen.

Thought of the Day: Surfers are great for the environment

Taking in the waves off Phillip Island the other week, I couldnt help but notice that the majority of the surfers present were driving cars that were build before 1990, thereby ensuring the lifecycle of the car is extended to the very bitter end. Could this be the way to help reduce the demand for new cars - to increase surfing?

Lesson of the Day

This from a keen contributer to my confusion:

"Throwing my pasta (with marinara sauce) all over myself and my white shirt is not the cure for the bad mood I woke up with today.

Strike that one off the list of possible cures."

Question of the Day: When did 'Miranda Kerr' become the synonym for 'Magazine Cover'?

Walking down the street today, I noticed the Magazine covers in a newsagent window and was startled at the results.

Are editors everywhere just going Kerr-razy?

Introduction to the Australian work ethic

In my day we called them bins

Question of the Day: Is Simon Katich Frankenstein?

He is a spare-parts player.
Does his masters bidding.
Loves choking people.



You decide.