Archive for the ‘devil’ Category

Advent of Doom
12 December, 2016


Less than two weeks until the Clan gathers in our formerly peaceful beach town.  The shopping’s been done, the seafood has been ordered, now the panicking can commence.

Krampus is coming, dear readers.  Pray for my soul, such as it is.


17 August, 2012

Sad news today for all on-line vendors of witchcraft and wizardry – eBay is set to ban the sale of magical workings from the first of September.

So get in quick if you need a mystical unicorn incantation or a little something to thwart the mother-in-law.

While they’re at it, there are a few other things eBay should look at banning: lots of happy meal toys, which may or may not be broken and, let’s face it, were without value new; Twilight merchandise; and vintage toilet paper.

No, I’m not kidding –


What else do you think we could do without on eBay?

Cause and Effect
26 April, 2011

Christopher Walken as the Angel of Death.

In a lyrically traditional piece of symbolism, the Angel of Death passed over my house on Easter Sunday. We enjoyed a low-key and major-incident-free celebration with family and close friends. As one might expect from the events of Christmas, though:-

for those of you whose merciful memories have suppressed the Yuletide incident – we came unstuck yesterday.

Magic Man, like the proud little digger he is, shed blood on ANZAC day. It all started when I was at blissful repose, inside the makeshift cone of silence I’d cobbled together from headphones, my internet connection and Youtube. Magic Man came rushing into the room, face twisted in anguish, gabbling something or other than for some reason I couldn’t interpret. Oh, the headphones – right. When I took them off, I heard:

‘A chook’s gotten out of the chook yard and The Dangerous Dog is out, too!’

Since the Dangerous Dog was doing his best to trip Magic Man up – i.e. arguably inside at the time – I failed to panic.

‘Settle down, mate. The chook’s gotten out before.’

And it has. My chook yard might as well be Stalag 13, the number of times this chook has escaped. It may be that Tikka is so stupid – even by chook standards – that she can’t realise we’ve got a free-ranging hound out here and she’s got food, water, shelter and companions in there. It may be that she’s a poultrine freedom fighter, protesting her interment at Villawood by the Sea. It may be chaos theory in action. Whatever the root cause, the kids and I have got re-capturing and returning her down to a fine art. We sprang into action.

Livestock corralled, we conducted a forensic assessment of the scene of the crime. There was clear evidence of dog-digging along the front fence line and a new gap along the back fence.

‘Aha!’ we concluded, ‘DD tried to dig in and Tikka panicked and fled out the back through a tunnel she’d made ready.’

The bloodshed came when he tried to patch up the yard. To cut to the chase, Magic Man stumbled backwards and stepped hard onto the upturned edge of the Weber lid. Which, as it happens, is sharp enough to gash a gusher into the sole of a 10 year old’s foot.

There was wailing, there was a great deal of invective hurled at Elf Boy – who was blamelessly on the other side of the backyard at the time, there was limping, there were tears. I got him in the shower first, to rinse off the archaeological layers of mud, blood and chook poo.

Elf Boy tried to help by yanking his brother’s dick ‘To distract him from the pain in his foot.’

I responded with a string of curse words delivered in a tone of voice so many octaves below my normal pitch that for a moment I wondered if I’d finally been possessed by an incubus.

In conclusion, I patched Magic Man up and after another day’s rest and elevation of the affected limb I hope he’ll be fit for camp. Some of it, at least. They’re only travelling 40 clicks or so south from us, so I can always go and change his dressing if required.

Needless to say, though, I’m fearful of the terror the Labour Day long weekend might hold. Stay tuned.

Light My Fire
27 February, 2011

You’ve probably heard that a voodoo sex ritual has been blamed for starting a fatal fire in a New York apartment building:

It seems that discarded clothing, a protective circle of splashed rum and the lit candles around the bed proved an incendiary combination.

What gets me, though, is that the lady involved went to the Voodoo priest’s apartment wanting to rid herself of obstacles and turn her life around. She gave the dude $300 – okay, American dollars but they’re still worth something –  and let him have sex with her. Candle-knocking-over, lost-in-the moment sex, it seems.

Nice work if you can get it, Voodoo Dude.

The other striking feature of this case is the appalling commentary from NY Post readers. Noo Yawkers have a great deal of scathing, ill-informed and flat-out racist things to say about people from the Caribbean. Allegedly, these are the only people who burn candles… always, according to the commentators, with a callous and ignorant disregard for human life. Many expressed their desire to expunge all Caribbean and South American (que? because of Santeria, one assumes) people from entire residential areas.

Nice one, Seppos. Makes you proud to be Australian.


The Devil’s Ringtone
23 May, 2010

I got to wondering today… what ringtone does the Devil use? I’m pretty sure he’s got an iphone, but what tune does it play, when one of his fallen angels is calling to check in?

For a while I thought “Crazy Frog” was a given. I doubt there is a more annoying sound in this world or any under. But perhaps the Devil is a jazz fan – maybe he grooves to some obscure Thelonius Monk track? Then again, he may well have a loyalty to opera.  Something overwrought and Germanic, I’m thinking, not a frothy piece of Mozart: Wagner. Not Faust, that’d be too corny.

What do you reckon – what’s the devil’s ringtone?