You Are Here: Why?
6 July, 2011

By now, you’re all well aware of my feelings about tourists: they park out the library; they stagnate the supermarket aisles; and often they have heads straight out of H.P. Lovecraft.

So, I’ve got nothing but praise for the new signage Council have plonked down the front. Isn’t it perfect? We call it “Four Ways To Die At Coolum Beach”. All it really lacks, in tourist-repulsion terms, is a big arrow pointing north that reads “Noosa That Way: Open All Hours”.

But I think the sign should be  more explicit. It is a matter of public record – police reports, death certificates, transcripts from the Coroner’s Court – that our proud beach-side community boasts many more ways to die than those depicted. There should also be a little stick man, hurling over the balcony rail out the back of the surf club – ALCOHOL POISONING. A stylised chalk outline  in the pub car-park, with a halo of blood – GLASSING. A hotted up V8, speeding away from a broken stickman – HIT AND RUN. And a little stick woman, bludgeoned in her own kitchen over a meal she was preparing – ANSWERING BACK.






Citizenship by Trial
14 January, 2010

Forget questions about Don Bradman, the Rum Rebellion, and wattle. How about a practical component to assess would-be migrants eligibility for Australian citizenship?

  • Dump them out the back on an open beach, preferably one notorious for unstable conditions with plenty of flash rips and holes, well outside the flagged area. Those who make it back to land are eligible for phase two.
  • Present the candidate with the choice of an irukandji jellyfish, a funnel web spider and something harmless. Maybe a large carpet python. They must grasp and hold one of the critters for 5 minutes.

  • Survivors get a two year trial of citizenship which must be served way out west. No, not Ipswich or Cabramatta. I’m talking the Isa. Anyone still alive and keen to reside then becomes officially Aussie as and is allowed to stay.

This has got nothing to do with racism. I’d be as happy as Larry to watch some seppos or poms give it a burl. Hell, I reckon you could sell tickets.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!

Champagne Slurpies
11 December, 2009

Come in, make yourself comfy. Kick off your shoes and let you hair down – or put it up if you prefer. There’s a refreshing seabreeze rustling the teatrees outside. I’ll just put Ry Cooder’s ‘Mambo Sinuendo’ on the CD, unless Quokka wants to loan me Hildy.

Faff all you like – I’ll just duck into the kitchen and mix up the champagne slurpies. Anyone for tapas?

Christmas Poem
10 December, 2009


Christmas is coming

so let us flee

the artificial jollity.

Avoid all presents,

tinsels’ drape and

Spurn the mobius sticky tape

Don’t try the Plaza;

Santa’s there

Stuck – pervy sweat on plastic chair.

The freeze-dried carols,

strain on faces,

shopping carts sudden death races.

The beach is worse

‘cause sand and heat

can’t make up for the par-cooked meat

of tourists lying

on their towels.

Let’s bury some – you bring the trowels.