Bloggy Blog II By Producer Jack.
Unforeseen by us all ‘The Wrong Passage’ has sort become the team’s new little baby. It’s like an illegitimate digital child that’s been emailed to our conscience. Suddenly we’re all aware that it needs feeding with words and pictures… and tickling on its tummy with the tapping of keys.
But now we’ve got our little cyber kid we want you to know that we’re determined to become good parents. Late nights and football will now be exchanged with hyperlinks and wet wipes. We hereby pledge to feed him naturally, as God intended, with insight and humour. As I write I assure you he’s clamped on to my teet guzzling away on mouse clicks and space bars.
It is a bit tricky though because while ol’ Russ is a bit of a whiz, I have the technical know how of Willy Fogg. However, since our new arrival appeared I’m trying to change. I got responsibilities now. Which is why I thought I’d succumb to Twitter.
Now in the past, my moto (to not just the internet) has been: “blindly rubbish anything unless you discovered it first”. A healthy attitude you probably won’t agree. Which is why, at least I hope it is that I’m now prone to missing various social events due to my resistance of Facebook.
The problem I felt with all the MyFace stuff was the disposable nature it introduced to documenting our lives and the element of competition it placed around your number of ‘friends’. Amazing how quickly I leapt from that moral high ground. Not only are we now spewing out untold material for the website, but I am now literally glued to my Twitter for any pellet of interest I can gather. I’ve become a proper sucker for it.
Now, all of the above text was written this morning before we left for an interview. Unbeknown to me in this time between then and now Russell has posted on my Twitter. I have just returned to my work email which is now stuffed with over 500 mails notifying me of new followers. Suddenly my cute little toddler shaved his head, slipped on DM boots and is punching me in the face. Funny thing is… I like it.
We have touched down in Melbourne from Sydney – Australia has treated our grisly gang with fair regard. Which I appreciate heartily as surely this land mass has not seen such an influx of English goons since the arrival of the first settlers.
Swimming in the ocean in Sydney earlier in my little white toddler pants I felt so free and blissfull that I understood at once the temporary lunacy that inspires bathers to meddle with dolphins. Had one approached me as I splashed and giggled I’d've given him one right up the blow-hole.
Alas no bottle-nosed flirts came a calling only filthy sharks. As we disembarked from our water-taxi ( which in my mind is the best taxi you can have- except sky-taxis, which is all areoplanes really are and pilots are just high up cab drivers, so they can eff off and stop acting all snooty in their aviator shades. Even the phrase “aviator shades” smacks of self importance- “fetch me shades baby- I’m gettin ready to aviate”) the boat-captain-fella went “oh, be careful a shark bit someone’s leg off here last week mate”
Well, it made the swimming experience more fraught with horror I don’t mind admitting. Sharks are such bastards, sometimes someone’ll go “sharks get a bad rap but actually they’re real gents” oh really? Well I’ve never heard of a shark doing anything remotely pleasant, they never put on benefit gigs for aids or help the elderly with their shopping. They just attack and rape people for fun.
Your supposed to punch an aggressive shark in the face, they say. Right. If a great white, rapist pig of a shark starts tearing at yer leg, swivel underwater and biff him on the hooter like a sub-aquatic henry cooper. No way baby! Give in, roll over, stick your bum out and pout and just hope it’s so turned on that it marries you there and then because an under water “dream-punch” all slow and weedy will just irritate it.
Luckily when a shark did turn up the othe bathers all had open wounds as a result of their lifestyles so were much more appealling- look at the photos they’re all right oddities.
Keep checking the page as I plan to regularly update this blog till you plead for silence.
Alf gives us a waterside war time jig on our secluded beach. The crowd lap it up. We’ll get that jig world wide.
Russ attracts the attention of some Sydney lads down at the harbour, but eventually scares them off with some special love.