I may be strange, but

I've not written of people who killed unwanted babies by pushing needles inside their heads but I know I'll never search for them.

Husker Du, Hells Angels and Sleazy Motels though - come right in. Put your feet up.

Freakin' google.

Necronomica

I've had a thing for ghost stories since I was a little one, with a few ingrained that raise goosebumps to this day.

So you can imagine the horror on my solo ride home last night as an unexpected arm wrapped itself around my left shoulder and an unknown head came into view.


Nah. Made it up. Sure did look like it though.

I do heart ghost stories though.

Weekend Shagananings & Fish

I left work early. I left work early. I left work early. You're
unlikely to see those words for a while, for the promotion I was given
Friday afternoon comes with a doubling of workload. Mmm. Work, sweet
work. More travel too, so look out Sydneysiders, I'll be seeing you
far more often. Canberrans too.

The departure wasn't restful though, as there was packing to be done
and fish to be transported. There was also K478. She and I have ended
up naked in all sorts of places but rarely a bed. Knowing we were
shifting back to the apartment had her almost as excited as us. Did I
move the fish? No. I got through enough boxes to make the bed and we
bedded. She's a funny little one K478 (though not a midget per se,
that term being reserved for those 19) I am of course now being banned
from girls 19 and younger. Thanks. Rigo. Still, fun was had in
inverse proportions to sleep and we woke tired.

Saturday was fish & food & swimming and building a book sculpture.
There's nary a bookshelf in Queensland, something to do with the
view? Stupid - look at the view. Don't understand the TV show - look
at the view. Ah well. Rockstar apartments have never been thought of
as libraries, so I built a book sculpture then cannibalised the
bedside lights. Result: softly glowing books. The fishies are the
prizes from my trip: Coral Trout, Red Emperor, Red Throated Emperor,
Hussar & Bream. Fuckers though, as the wounds from the trip had
finally healed - until I sliced myself open on one of the trout. Evil
slicey fish. Die. Die a death of poaching in lemon & pesto, die I tell
you.

He's dieing as I write.

This is roughly where the weekend got surprising.

Ever known someone for a while only to have your understanding of them
thrown when they turn out to be a completely filthy little minx? Meet
K3000. With wind rattling the shutters we strangely enough managed to
rattle every bone in our body and then some. So. Tired. Today. I've
had three naps and feel like a fourth.

Don't mind my new flatmate at all by the way, what with her
complimentary antipasto fetish (she buys everything I don't) and her
candour. She's decided this is going to be a great year, like I have, better
than last in terms of sex too - sex twice, one male, one female. This
year - twice , gender unknown. I think we'll get along jus' fine.
Gutsy thing too, referring to overhearing Ms K3000 and I - "have fun
this morning - cos it sounded pretty good from what I could hear".
Twas not Ms Ks fault, as we weren't being particularly vocal or
inconsiderate. What's a girl to do when she has a really long
oooooorrrrrrgasm instead of yer average workaday orgasm.

So that's my weekend: reacquiring the rockstar apartment, a friend
with benefits, fish, a friend with unexpected benefits and a hot new
bi flatmate. How was your weekend kiddies?

Go read a book. Better yet, write me a story.

Much to say but 290 emails after one day off. Stupid Holidays.

Talk amongst yourselves or summin.

Righting the wrongs

Meme's never ask anything two idiots wouldn't cover in a bar. Here's some missing bits.

This might be updated on ad-hoc basis, so here's a helper:
Last Updated - 26 Jan, 4.30ish

Which books rocked your world and why?

Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts

Oh wow. Another book about a guy and drugs and violence and philosophy and love. Shantaram is an amazing read and so worth the slog that you should head out right now and buy a copy. There are some truly beautiful passages on love & evil set against a backdrop of anything from Mumbai shantytowns to Afghani gunrunning. One of the finest autobiographies I've ever read. Melbourne boy too.

The Bible, Old and New Testament, Anon

Because you allowed me to begin arguing against you from the age of five when I was told God made the sand during my parents misguided attempt to send me to Sunday School, culminating in my expulsion from RE four years later. Four years I'll never get back, you blinkered fuckers. Fuck off.

Work & Property, Eric Gill

Yeah, I'm a reformed book collector, but what can't you love about a Christian Master Artist Dog Fucker. If I'm going to have heroes they're going to be interesting. W&P was intersection of interests (no, not the dogs) for me, as the guy was an amazing typographer, incredible sculptor and engraver and a printer, so this particular edition was written, designed and printed by him. They just dont make men the same these days, but I'm tryin'.

Scission, Tim Winton

First 'adult' book I ever bought with my own money. Age: 12. Possibly the first time I realised Australian's could write too.

Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

Took far longer to get around to reading this than I should have, and this is not the large print, Ride of the Valkyries soundtracked, hearing impaired version. Apocolapsye Now rocks but it was inspired by this kiddies, not based on it. Conrad sweats madness from the page in this riverine trek for Ivory.

Blood Meridien or The evening redness that sets in the West, Cormac McCarthy

Cormac wrote for the first 20 odd years of his writing career without any recognition. Stupid, stupid people. By the time he achieved a bit of notice (All the Pretty Horses) he'd built up a phenomenal back catalogue, of which BM is one. Notable too is the Orchard Keeper, perhaps one of the only novels to feature a necrophiliac as it's main character. Fucking riveting.

Blood is an epic from the 1850s, set way down the bottom of Texas. It focuses on a crew of bounty hunters and their polemnic, venomous leader, The Judge. Cormac is fascinating in his language, one of the very few whose wordage strays into the fabricated yet makes complete sense.


Hells Angels, Hunter S. Thompson

Though not the first of his I'd read, HA was Hunter's first full length publication and it fucking rocks. It isn't hard to see why the Gonzo style arrived soon after. If you can't read the final paragraph about hitting the Pacific Highway late on a Californian even without feeling it, you're dead.

Junky, William Burroughs, 1949/51

Dirty Realism in the 90s. Meh. Forty years earlier and Burroughs was there, publishing under a nom de plume thanks to the moires of an era where you couldn't mention masturbation, let alone sex, drugs or homosexuality. The 1951 edition had a new preface which stands as one of the best pieces of writing on narcotics and their use by us humans.

Reading this as a late teen was my introduction to the Beats. Kerouac et al came later, as I devoured Burroughs fast. This was writing as a liquid, fluid, ever mobile. Even if you don't like his work, it is worth respecting someone who was known as the world's oldest living junky, especially if they have an extensive weapon collection.

Incidentally, this book dominated the conversation when I met Howard Marks.

Forgot

Some movies:
Mad Max 1
Stone
Dazed & Confused
Clerks
Chopper
Dark Crystal
Meet the Feebles
Nightwatch

Looking to Imelda for the gravy

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Working 80+ hours a week running a Studio in Melbourne

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Running a retail chain

Snacks you enjoy:
Sirena Tuna with Lemon
Arnotts Cheddar Shapes
Lindt 80% cocoa dark chocolate
Batard toasted with marinated danish fetta and handground pesto topped with marinated capsicum.
Those Spanish, ring pull anchovie stuffed olives
Vino

Songs to which you know all the lyrics:
Wide Open Road - Triffids
Fools Gold - Stone Roses
Suspicious Minds - Elvis
Aloha Steve n Danno - Radio Birdman
Shivers - Boys Next Door
Cannonball - Breeders
Under the Milky Way - The Church
Girlfriend - Mathew Sweet
God Save the Queen - Sex Pistols
Take a walk on the wild side - Lou Reed
American Music - Violent Femmes
Hazy Shade of Winter - Bangles version
Superstition - Stevie
Loaded - Primal Scream
Been Caught Stealing - Janes Addiction
Jane Says - Janes Addiction
Kool Thing - Sonic Youth
Love will Tear us apart - Joy Division
Ship Song - Nick Cave
Psycho Killer - Talking Heads
That's Entertainment - The Jam
Birdhouse in your soul - TMBG
Sympathy for the devil - Stones
Reptile - The Church
Bottle of fur - Urge Overkill
Lock it - Falling Joys
Special K - Placebo
Teenage Riot -Sonic Youth
Green Eyes - Husker Du
NWA - Fuck the Police
Metropolis - The Church
Bug Powder Dust - Bomb the Bass
She Bangs the Drums - Stone Roses
Love Story - Tim Deluxe
Stone Cold Crazy - Queen
In the Ghetto - Nick Cave version
Hide U - Kosheen
Missing - Everything But The Girl
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
Don't want to know if you are lonely - Husker Du
Ever fallen in love - Buzzcocks
Stranded - The Saints
and that's enough for the moment

Things you would do if you were a millionaire:
Rarely deal with people I don't like by:
Ordering my entire dream library all at once
Building the cellar from hell and stocking it
Only supplying key friends and family the details of my highly inaccessible coastal hideout

Bad habits:
Mess through which only I can navigate
Intolerance

Things you like doing:
Motorbiking
Cooking
Eating the cooking
Drinking
Learning new stories
Reading
Pushing the occasional boundary

Things you would never wear, buy or get new again:
Doesnt apply if you've taste

Parts of your heritage:
Scottish
English
Irish
Welsh
Something olivey

Things that scare you:
Lack of oxygen

Fears you overcame:
Horses
Heights
Failure

Your everyday essentials:
Coffee
Books
White shirts

Things you are wearing right now:
Croc/snakeskin loafers
Jeans
White shirt
Boxer briefy things. For once.

Things you wore too much last year:
My dearly departed bottle green Dupe thongs. So soft. So comfy. So dead.

This year's favourite bands or musical artists:
Same as last year plus Velure.

Things you want most in a relationship:
Respect
Lust
Occasional silence

Your favourite movies of the year:
Nothing yet.

Best movies of all time:
Das Boot, My Life as Dog, City of Lost Children, Reservoir Dogs, Ran (as in Kurosawa), Human Traffic, Dr Strangelove, Donnie Darko, Jamon Jamon, The Red Balloon

Best TV shows of all time:
Any Dr Who with Tom Baker, The Goodies, Ab Fab, Fawlty Towers, Carnivale, South Park, Blakes Seven, A Team, The late 90s BBC Forsythe Saga

Things you hate:
Fucktards.
Stupidity.
Non acceptance of responsibility for self

Your favourite hobbies:
Motorbiking
Cooking
Eating the cooking
Drinking
Learning new stories
Reading
Pushing the occasional boundary. Der.

Things you learned last year:
We always know the answers even if we don't like them.
Peoples will extend their own private fears when they worry for you. It's easy not to take these fears on board when you're aware of this.

Accomplishments you are proud of (from last year):
I figured myself out,

Things you want really badly:
Great sex, better wine, BMW 1200GS HP, Michael Houllebecq's new one, Canon EOS 300D

Things that many people do and you don't:
Sleep badly
Read magazines
Read Tabloid news
Drive cars
Smoke

Interesting places that you’ve been to:
Thousands of places, mosaic style. It's a big mural.

Places you want to go on vacation:
Vietnam
South America

Things you want to do before you die:
Compete in the Paris/Dakar rally
Ride Vietnam
Ride South America
Finish Don Quixote

Ways that you are a stereotypical example of your gender:
I can fish, hunt, change a tyre, reinsulate the electricals, drink beer be and be comfortably incommuncative.
Mess

Things that make you stand out (from your gender):
I. Hate. Sport. Fours wheels good, two wheels better.

Strengths you’re particularly proud of:
Focus during crises.
Quest for knowledge & information

Strengths that are also weaknesses:
Quest for knowledge & information. Stoopid interweb.

Things you normally wouldn't admit:
I can be a very good liar

Goals for the New Year:
Simple - exceed the potential I'm apparently never lving up to. Garguantuan memes aren't helping this.

I tag li'l bear, Ms Rigo.

I almost forgot

Inspired by Ms Steph's smiling bus stranger I decided to find out which smile works best in terms of getting a smile back from the opposite sex. Self interestedly, I decided to be fair and only experiment on people I though were attractive.

So we're clear, I never think I look like the person I see in the mirror of a morn. Every aged female relative ever will assure you I have "gorgeous rosy cheeks" and somehow there's some olivey skin in the mix and a tan. The only, and I do mean only, celeb I'm ever told I look like is Billy Zane. Charmed or Zoolander Billy though, not Titanic. Shaved head thing.

The winner is: A Knowing Smile, head slightly cocked with lips barely open. Floored patrons, had waitresses glancing questioningly at my dinner dates and got a return smile every time.

Got any social experiments you want me to do?

No one got hurt during the conduct of this experiment.

Lots of pleasure and lump of horror

I love dining with beautiful women. Throw in half decent conversation and I'm in heaven, especially at the end of a crazy week.

But two dinners, in two nights - there might be a god.

Last night was Crabwars II with the resurgent Rigo. In the interests of gastronomic reportage, I'll keep it short: I think Shuck wins over Il Centro. Crab Lasagne is the only time it's OK to have more crabs and we think Shuck's had Swimmer and Blue. No idea what it is with her and I but as always we attracted The Breasts. Boobage left, right and centre. We weren't complaining. And, just becuase I rarely do compliments, she was looking beautiful. Get sick more often kiddo.

Friday was ineressin'. One of my superpowers is to have remarkably good radar for women that will play a part in my life. Not sure when, not sure how. Unfortunately, I can't control it or refine it: I'm walking along or lying in a park and BLEEEP.

I've known The Fashionista for about two years. Mutual friends. Whenever we'd run into each other talk would flow without end, until her boyfriend lost the plot. Every. Single. Time. I never knew her name. I never got her number. Via the Random Blonde Messageway (highly efficient gossip network based on the Gold Coast, outposts in fluffy places worldwide) it was learnt and noted that they'd broken up.

Cue last weekend. She'd ditched her friends and wandered off in search of less polo shirts per square metre. Hard in a city village like Surfers, but possible if you know where to look. Independence is good and in this case gave us card swapping time. Tis nice being all growed up and professional-like.

Thankfully, she eats. Lots. I've never understood how you could accept a dinner date and come out with I'll watch/I've eaten/I'm not feeling well. Laughing, eating & drinking are primal, sexy and great to do in tandem. Unfortunately, NumberOne Bartender was not in attendance that eve. That guy is amazing, the only barman I've ever seen around the world who stacks the icecubes before pouring. Individually.

In his stead was trusty NumberTwo. OMFG. Two words: Margarita. King.

So, stormy night, gallons of 'ritas and new company. Bueno. Five courses later and we were drunken little piglets.

Having a drink afterwards was when IT occured.

Now, I'm not a fan of the mohawk/feauxhak/mullet/I-shagged-a-mop/I'm-Emo-but-haven't-sliced
-my-wrists-as-i-don't-shave-yet haircuts for guys, but I can deal with them, usually by laughing. Throw the offender in a pair of tightleg girls Tsubis or Sass and Bide and I'll kill them.

So, imagine my bile at overhearing the following:

Fucktard 1 to Fucktard 2: Yeah man, that looks hot, it's soo just right
Fucktard 1: You sure? I don't know if it was quite the look I was going for
Fucktard 2: Nah man, it's hot. The chicks will love it.

This was in the Mens bathroom. I'd nearly knocked these lightweights over heading in, only to catch this dribble AS THEY WERE DOING UP THEIR HEADBANDS. HEADBANDS. Karate Kid style. Fer fucks sake. Forgive them for they know not what they do? Never.

You've K478 to thank for stopping this rant as she's just messaged to say she's slathered in coconut cream. Must. Run.

That song should have been called

You are the wind between my toes, it feels so goddam good to have slipstream sluicing your feet.

That slight alteration would have saved thousands of ears from bleeding at weddings & funerals.


Queensland might be a moral and cultural backwater but it sure is the promised land for motorbike riders wearing thongs. I would have shot me for that in Melbourne.

Likes, dislikes and middle ground

I like consistency and burnt orange Gaffer tape.

Gaffer tape is consistent.

People however are not, yet having an opinion and sticking to it or a 'voice' and repeatedly speaking with it is the fastest way to communicate what, who and where you are.

I don't gets it.


Oh, Occy straps. I like Occy straps. So functional.


Coffee hasn't worked yet has it?

Feeding Frenzies - expanded

The sugo’s cooking so now I can talk.
I had no Sugo. I like Sugo. It’s easy to make. I made some

Ok. I'd blame the moon if I hadn't always had a soft spot for her.
Her as in ‘Lady Moon shine down, a little people magic if you will’.

A fair while back, way, way waaaay pre-blog, I realised there probably wasn't anyone for me up here on the Gold Coast. Call it too much vapidity, large print self-help books and sunshine. Arriving at this conclusion was sensational as it allowed an ongoing urge to 'ind someone to dissipate. Basically, I didn't have to worry.
The usual single angsty stuff. In this case it was a fair while after the clouds had lifted from the end of a relationship, in this case with WriterLawyer. Happy to be proven wrong but there seems to be a dearth of gorgeously smart single women.

From then on, I've done what I want. There've been dates, there's been sex, there has been neither and there’s been weeks and months of varying levels of flirtation. No one I slept with was particularly engaging though there were a few with the potential for at least fun and a few less for fun an more. C’est la vie.
A short bout of celibacy did ensue, once, twice and even thrice, mainly from choice. There were various flingy things last year but unless you’re a complete prick its hard to take someone seriously when they keep throwing themselves at you and all you ever give them is sex. Sure, it’s orgasmic, but there is more to life.

I don’t have any trouble meeting people but somewhere in the past few years I decided to trust my head in terms of understanding where someone else is at, resultantly spending far more time ‘learning’ someone. Suspense can be the new seduction.

Regardless, there wasn’t really anyone to chase as they’ve all been either in the wrong space for me or too boring. Boring sucks.

Then I went away.
Twas only three weeks but I wasn’t here.

So is it only absence that swells a harem upon your return? Why isn’t it wrong to tell one the most stunning women you’ve ever met that her Sass and Bide looks like it’s made from a pile of doilies stolen from her grandmother? When the hell did 17 years olds start having that much confidence, style and wit? How come everyone you’ve had a craving for pops up all in one night? Why is this night also the one when you’re supposed to be up the coast in a spa overlooking the ocean. Why didn’t it feel weird to congratulate your ex-lover on her pregnancy whilst her mother and one of your closest friends is looking hotter than ever whilst having resolved some of the issues that kept you apart in the first place (from the mother that is, not the daughter. I never said this was simple). Why, when finally you can start culling the K names* from your phone do some old ones appear from nowhere in new, improved versions and proceed to completely blow your mind with extra-sleazy dive motel sex?
Harem - I’ve been accused of having one on many occasion. It's not untrue as I do have a whole bundle of female friends that wander along the hot and smart spectrum. You have friends you don’t like? Congratulations. Have another cupcake. Have 14.
Sass & Bide Doilie - It was and she looked great. As if ‘you look beautiful’ would have got as much of her time.

17 year olds - Umm. Yes. She was, as I found out after asking what she had been studying: school. As in High School.

How come everyone you’ve had a craving for pops up all in one night?
Think someone gorgeous and interesting you’ve met a half dozen times in a year with a jealous partner they’ve recently broken up with PLUS a complete and utter minx who pushes the boundaries well past the safety zone despite her often present (and supposedly straight) fiance. Pushing engaged minx away with “break up and sort yourself out, then we’ll talk about it” elicited “OMG, that just made you so much hotter. Uggh. Women.

Why is this night also the one when you’re supposed to be up the coast in a spa overlooking the ocean?
Have I ever mentioned older women? Call me crack for MILFs, or was. This was another one. Passing up a dirty weekend is fair indication of my feelings on this one. This age thing is waning.

Why didn’t it feel weird to congratulate your ex-lover on her pregnancy whilst her mother and one of your closest friends is looking hotter than ever whilst having resolved some of the issues that kept you apart in the first place (from the mother that is, not the daughter. I never said this was simple).
Speaking of older women, K475 is one of the millions of K names in my phone. She wears hott shoes, which I noticed and we started hanging out a while back, more and more frequently. K475 has two daughters, one of whom is K476. Whilst out one night, K476 became one the four 19 year olds to hit on me in my thirties with the entirely clueless and classless “look, I love sex and I’m single and I don’t want anything else, so how about it”. Seriously. Since I’m not always smart, I blew the potential relationship with K475 and slept with K476 for a while. Luckily, the me & K475 friendship blossomed and she’s just recently got over a heap of the baggage she’s had floating around. Sure, it’s highly unlikely but weirder things have happend. Told you this was complicated. K476 has a new boyfriend to whom she's with child.

Why, when finally you can start culling the K names* from your phone do some old ones appear from nowhere in new, improved versions and proceed to completely blow your mind with extra-sleazy dive motel sex?
Strictly speaking this was the night before but it seemed to flow nicely. K478 is unrelated to any of the previous K Names despite sharing a creatively spelt christian name. She’d disappeared for a while, changing numbers etc. We’d had a few sporadic flings in the past. She reappeared out of the blue in a rather new and improved streamlined version with neverending cleavage. Neverending cleavage+peaches & cream skin+devilishly quick brain=me being a sucker. Mmm. Sucking. Thanks to alcomohol, we found the only motel in the history of motels not to even bother to ask for ID. Cash really is king.


Anyways.

I went away quietly.

I came back the flavour of the month. Numbers. Cards. Divey Motels.


Give thanks to Chicky for the expanded version.

As you can see, all sorts of things happen when you ask nicely.

Feeding frenzies

The sugo’s cooking so now I can talk.

Ok. I'd blame the moon if I hadn't always had a soft spot for her.

A fair while back, way, way waaaay pre-blog, I realised there probably wasn't anyone for me up here on the Gold Coast. Call it too much vapidity, large print self-help books and sunshine. Arriving at this conclusion was sensational as it allowed an ongoing urge to 'ind someone to dissipate. Basically, I didn't have to worry.

From then on, I've done what I want. There've been dates, there's been sex, there has been neither and there’s been weeks and months of varying levels of flirtation. No one I slept with was particularly engaging though there were a few with the potential for at least fun and a few less for fun an more. C’est la vie.

Then I went away.

So is it only absence that swells a harem upon your return? Why isn’t it wrong to tell one the most stunning women you’ve ever met that her Sass and Bide looks like it’s made from a pile of doilies stolen from her grandmother? When the hell did 17 years olds start having that much confidence, style and wit? How come everyone you’ve had a craving for pops up all in one night? Why is this night also the one when you’re supposed to be up the coast in a spa overlooking the ocean. Why didn’t it feel weird to congratulate your ex-lover on her pregnancy whilst her mother and one of your closest friends is looking hotter than ever whilst having resolved some of the issues that kept you apart in the first place (from the mother that is, not the daughter. I never said this was simple). Why, when finally you can start culling the K names* from your phone do some old ones appear from nowhere in new, improved versions and proceed to completely blow your mind with extra-sleazy dive motel sex?

Anyways.

I went away quietly.

I came back the flavour of the month. Numbers. Cards. Divey Motels. Weekends away. There’s even some interesting ones.


*K names. A SEQ peculiarity. Until landing here I had probably only ever known two or three girls whose name began with a K at the same time.

Enter South East Queensland and seventeen of them. To make matters worse many are the same.

I doth returneth

There was fun.

There weren't many games.

There was gaffer tape, acts of strength and imagination and tortoises.

Pretty soon I'll write about it.

The old man of the sea with a heart of darkness

Gentle readers, fuck off for a week. Rest thy souls. Sup. Recline. Build.


I'm taking the other half of my break.

So, it's time for some Hemingway, Irwin and Conrad.

No, Steve Irwin hasn't written any great novels but he does feed crocodiles which is what I'll be doing before a spot of deep sea fishing and heading upriver. Seriously.

I'll best Kurtz as I'm faster but the real question is who wants the swordfish steaks and Ivory.


Back in a week.

Inaugural 05-06 Eastern states road trip Awards

I'd like to thank me for choosing me as today’s winner, for even I am impressed with the distance, hardship and effort that I put in to achieve this award. Whole species of insects and entire herds of rubber and petrol animals were slaughtered in the process.

As winner, I do of course have those I'd like to thank - I couldn't have done it without you.

Firstly, to fat bastards Australia wide. You were there for me everytime the heat became too much, pointing out without fail that it must be hot on the road. What is it, an extra 20+ kilos and airconditioning is the new Mozart and you get smarter the more time you spend in your car? Not one normal/skinny person felt the need to point this out. Have a pulmonary infarction already.

Secondly but no less importantly, I'd like to thank the Sun. Where else but other ends of the earth could you achieve 50 fucking degrees? Thankyou for the heatstroke (you're next), thank you for rubber coated grips too hot too touch with gloves ON, thankyou for forcing me to not wear leathers, (hot, hott leathers in this case) and thank you for burning through 30+ suncream and two layers of clothing.

Aah yes. Heatstroke. Holes in your skull. Falling stars. Rainshowers from clear skies. Still don't know where the last one came from, but it got me through to Narrandera, where from nothing I created the patented Dollop's Heatstroke Miracle cure: take one iced lemon squash for sugars, one chilled pot of beer for more liquids and salt (not a Glass you QLD idiots, a pot. It's before a Schooner and after a Pony. Glass is what it's made of, not a size), one glass of ice and one glass of white water . Find an air-conditioned space, oft known as a country pub. Clear a space amongst what will be known as the local characters and drink. Body temperature will stabilise within 10, drop by 20 and back to normal within 30. Repeat if necessary but not to the point of drunkeness.

Thankyou too to whoever named Australian towns - where else could I pass through Texas and Manilla in the same day.

A final thanks goes to roadside crapvertising: Do you really want to know how fast I'm going NSW Roads? I shouldn't 'Kill myself for a deadline', nor should I 'Sleep and drive'. No shit. You kept me talking to myself, swearing at your inanity. Wanna change the road toll - spend on more police, less on billboards. While you're at it, don't make roads so goddam boring - has anyone fallen asleep on the Great Ocean Road? No. Fuckwits.

Last but not least, there is my accessories to thank: 11 year old Atelier double breasted leather pea coat, white on white linen shirt, Marshall artist heavy gauge denim, patent black Brando’s, Stone Island ocean racing jacket, matt black Nitro helmet with tinted visor and of course BMW F650. You'se all rock.

Suggestions for next year welcome. Award for best roadtrip compilation ever will be in a separate post.

Thankyou for coming.