Valley of the Shadowy Pee
16 September, 2011

Steampunk Urinal: somebody is taking the piss

It seems that Brisbane’s favourite nightclub and random glassing by inebriated strangers precinct has a wee problem:

People are going out, going hard and then… well, just going wherever they feel like it. A Mr Mergard said the problem was so bad that “There is a toilet in which people urinate outside and people inside get urinated on.” Don’t worry too much about that one, Mr Mergard –  I think it’s in The Beat, and the patrons actually like it that way.

Other instances of public tinkling are non-consensual, however, and it’s a bigger problem than you might think. Up to 30 people a day are being fined under a Police public nuisance blitz. 30 a day? Makes you wonder how many caught-short scoff-laws are whizzing undetected.

Not to worry, though, I’ve come up with some workable solutions:

The Garden Bed 

Just pop bunches of these little beauties, in a circular formation, at regular intervals down the Brunswick street mall.  No need to weed!
Heritage Pissing
These are a personal favourite. Shame that ‘Monastery’ is now closed, but there are still a number of operational and converted churches in the Valley that would be enhanced by an open-air installation of gargoyle pissoirs. I’d also like to see several rows of them against the flats they built on the old Cathedral site, in memory of the Vatican pinching all the money raised for building on that block.
Go-Go Glowsticks
An idea derived by this charming invention for those caught short on the golf course. Just increase the volume and, erm, calibre of the average glowstick, include a screw-on lid, and voila! Rave on, hipsters.

Scents of Then
29 January, 2010

Marcel Proust had madelines… a shell-shaped fluted cupcake, I’m told, not that cartoon girl who lived with nuns (Miss Clavel? I thought nuns were all Sister Something??). Anyway, the aroma of those bakery items brought back hundreds of pages of memory for M. Proust.

What are your scent triggers – which whiffs transport you back to a simpler time? ‘Kay, for many of you it was a dark, tormented time – bear with me.

I can’t smell a lit mozzie coil without remembering camping out on Grandma’s patio. Lilos and couch cushions under an old school fabric tarp, that itself smelt of oiled, musty canvas. Grandpa’s garden poking inquisitive tendrils through the wrought iron balustrades; mock orange along the front, because Grandma had orange blossoms in her wedding bouquet. The sleep-out patio was where Grandpa would shell prawns for the family. He’d always do all our peeling. When Mum first met my Dad’s family they dived in like savages and peeled their own. She should have taken it as fair warning, don’t you reckon?

Mango Insanity
13 January, 2010

Mango trees in Brisbane have gone berserk. Favorable growing conditions have  resulted in a mega-glut of the tropical fruit. Residents under siege compared the clunk clunk clunk of fruit hitting their tin roofs to being strafed in the blitz – yeah, that was a resident in her 90’s. Council rubbish trucks  can’t lift wheely bins full of unwanted rotting fruit. The solution – a chutney recipe.

Don’t get me wrong, chutney’s great with curry or on a cold lamb sandwich. But how many gigalitres of chutney does the average household consume in a century?

Maybe we should cook up all surplus mangos and crate the chutney to NSW. It seems their economy is exploring the Coriolis effect, spiralling faster and faster down the economic plughole.

Chutney for Cockroaches! Victory Chutney!

I like it – it’s got a good, old-school ring. Chutney hard, Brisbanites.