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    They shoot frigid women you know Lou.

    As a little girl I always wanted to be a collector. I imagined growing old surrounded by collections that would reflect the adventures and perhaps even sometimes misadventures (that’s when I’d giggle to myself as my grandchildren sat at my feet looking up in awe and confusion at my self-deprecating, yet humble eccentricity), of my life. The problem was I grew bored with collecting and it took a long to time to realise I could appreciate a good collection but lacked the talent for creating and maintaining my own, well that, and I had convinced myself that if I put all my self worth into a collection I would be…

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    Happy Festive Shananigans

    A BRIEF MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR… Ok, so we all know sometimes I can’t spell, my grammar can be questionable and let’s just say that not all my stories have inspired hope in humanity – but f#@k, for the most part they’ve been mildly amusing and you seem to have enjoyed them and for that I just wanted to say thanks. We’ve had a long year, one of ups and downs, hits and misses and sure things might’ve run more smoothly for all of us if I’d put out more consistently, but that’s what New Years resolutions are for. (NOTE TO SELF: just say yes, it can’t always end badly…

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    Christmas does Lou, literally.

    I’m not sure when exactly Christmas got banned in my house. There was an awkward stage where we pretended it didn’t really exist between 1993-95 following an incident involving my father dressed as Magnum PI dressed as Santa after he was discovered under the Christmas tree in nothing but his underpants, my mother and a simple keyboard dedication that he was serenading her with on my new Yamaha keyboard. It returned for a short while until 1997, when my mother upon getting yet another frying pan banned Christmas until her family learnt not to buy ‘crap’ presents, and with that in mind, now looking back that perhaps the moment the…

  • To whom it concerns...,  Uncategorized

    Dear Public Transport Department

    Dear Public Transport System: While it may have startled some people lately the idea of a man going around on your trams with a camera in his worn out Dunlops, a bum bag and a perverts dream, it barely raised one of my newly shaped eyebrows – you see I catch your trams, buses and trains and not a day goes by where I’m not propositioned, gyrated against, spat on, smothered, kicked, sneered at, pushed at, leered at, had God introduced to me, gotten a stain on my favourite dress, something smeared on my good shoes and beeen photographed without my permission (and I’m not talking a nice tourist shot…