Turds of a feather

I will say this for Pounce! - she sure is a stupid-arsed cat.

On the decking out back, next to the fish pond, she just discovered a sloppy white arse-egg laid oh-too-recently by some blow-in bird or other. Gingerly checking the shimmering goo out with her schnoz, the feline's nostrils flared, then recoiled, sending her hindquarts on a merry backward dance into the pond.

She's licking said hindquarts dry now, looking up at me, somehow miffed, as if I'd been the fine feathered offender.

Pommie, Jimmy, Aussie! Oi oi Oi!

This morning, Hazel took this pic of the local bank near regular contributor, K.'s, home town which lies in the Westralian wheatbelt.

Not too many Aboriginal blokes leading hakas in there, I suspect.

Lickspittle

Last night, after slopping Pounce!'s dinner out of its sachel and into her bowl, I realised the damn fleabag wasn't gonna eat it.

So, Hazel style, I mashed the slimy rectangle into a mush with a fork, which seemed to do the trick. I then proceeded to put the fork into the dishwasher.

"How could you?!" Hazel screamed, scurrying over to fish the fork from the Meile. "That's had cat food on it!!"

This from a woman who lets the cat lick her dinner plate clean after every meal.

Too sheepish - baaaaaaaa humbug.

Good on old Willie Mason for dissing the haka in the Rugby League test over the weekend.

Only the public of Australia would get so nosebleedish about sledging some evolving ritual which basically says, "we're gonna rape your date and eat your future". This from a country with no future at the ass-end of the earth.

And by an Australian Aborigine leading a blend of Pakeha and Samoans, with a token Maori second rower or two thrown in.

Hell, Maoris have only been in NZ for the past 1,000 years anyway - not that much longer than the Pakeha, geologically speaking.

And before we get all P.C., it pays to note the Maori began their pan-pacific imperialism 500 years before their Pakeha mates. I wonder how the poor mob overwhelmed by the Maori felt about the haka?

To me, the haka's a bit of pre-match entertainment. No more, no less.

Whistler's mother-in-law

Hazel's step-mum, Bezley, took her grandkids to the Perth Show during the week. Never one for idleness, Bezley bought me and Haze a sample box of Whistler's chocolates.

Oh my gawd, Habibi!!!!!

Until this point in time, I did not know Whistler's existed, let alone how cheeky and chunky their chockies could be. Their giant choc-coated jelly babies were an instant hit with this erstwhile Dr Who fan.

The side of the sample box says Whistler's is the oldest confectioner in the whole of Western Australia. If acres were years, that'd make them bloody old chocolatiers. How is it I've only just heard of them?

I've got Hazel on the job now, seeing if Mr Whistler runs chocky tours of his Belmont Wonkorium.

Grumpy gardening

Now, look. I'm not big on reading "how to" booklets, or on listening for that matter.

Consequently, things take a little while to sink in, and because I'm forgetful they rarely stay in all that long.

However, I've struck upon a couple of things that seem to work in the average Perth garden:

1. Water the lawn with the laundry water via a watering can. Sounds gross, I know, but over time it really gives the lawn a lift, saving money on, and the Swan River from, fertiliser. I've been trialling this method for a couple of years now and the naysayers who said, "nay, it'll lead to your lawn getting all matty and tangled," have so far been disproved. The laundry water method also has the advantage of saving our ever-diminishing chlorinated water stocks for the all-important task of distillation into beer. On top of that, I've heard the detergent acts as a wetting agent. And for damn good measure, the water seems to kill the little black beetles that used to eat my lawn - though maybe that's just because my laundry is especially manky.

2. If your fish pond is atrophying like mine has been all through summer, winter and spring, chuck in a couple of surface-floating lillies. They'll soon diminish the photosynthetic light available to that pesky algae, as well as oxygenating the water, which everyone knows is a good starting point for distilling your own home brew.

More gardening tips if I learn something new. But for now, you know the score. It's your blooming lot.

The unbearable lightness of sleeping

Having outlasted my wife, the cat and SBS, I'm finally off to bed.

Could the last one out please turn off the lights?

Republicity

Hazel and I went for a 550km drive today.

At one stage, when neither of us had spoken for 15 minutes or so, good ol' Haze asked me what I was thinking about.

"As a matter of fact," I replied, "I've been brooding over how the Commonwealth of Australia, despite my best whining, has not yet seen its way fit to sever ties with the mother country and become a republic."

"I never think about stuff like that," she said, "but I knew you were brooding about something."

About something indeed.