Turn the TV off kids, for I've got a something to tell ya.
Didn't you see 60 Minutes! Sitting in front of the box
leads to brain failure,
so I'll tell you a story to make your grey cells think:
it all started when I was walking home after a Christmas
drink,
when I turned down this street not lit by as much as a
candle,
and I spotted this fellow that I mistook for a vandal,
for though he was well dressed, in red with a neat white
trim;
a large sack for looting, he carried with him.
Fearing that the thief would quickly vanish without trace,
I quickly steeled a look, at this would be offenders face.
Slim, dark haired, big ears; he just stood there for a
while,
and his face was covered in a light scruff, he'd need to
shave that by trial.
So with the ident-a-kit securely stored in my brain,
I grabbed this fellow's arm and told him to refrain,
from his illegal activities on this day; Christmas Eve,
but whilst I gibbered on, with a tug he regained his sleeve
then he rose to a stature I knew not existed,
before 'I am Santa Claus�' he loudly insisted.
'Santa Claus indeed' I thought, for he stood slim and
without a beard,
and as he continued along with his fantasy, for his sanity
I feared...
"Please let me explain, for I know how this looks,
for your image of Santa comes from years of books,
portraying this fat jolly fellow,
with grey hair and a beard, and a smiling laugh to bellow,
as he delivers presents to children everywhere;
- well I am still he - there's a story I swear.'
'You see Mrs Claus; my fickle love,
was watching this Ray Martin special on the box.
It was on some rubbish about making men beautiful�
and that I didn't run and hide, is a fact I still rue;
for she grabbed the stubby from right out of my hand,
before proceeding to lay down the new law of the land.
"Boyfriend! Somewhere under that hair and lard is my new
modern bloke�"
I just crossed my fingers and hoped that this was simply
her latest joke,
but she continued to speak "Nic, really that beard is just
old hack,
and as for your hairy chest and legs, I've got some
epilatory wax"
She then opened the door and in came Channel North Pole,
and some camp elf guy told me that I had scored the leading
role,
in something called "North Pole - The Metro Male Makeover"!
Oh why, oh why didn't I duck for cover?
for they then shaved my beard and gave me a facial,
before a fitness instructor ran me all over a glacier,
and he called me fatty and hurt all my feelings,
but it was when I arrived back home that I really got
reeling,
for upon my return, there was not a beer in the place,
then a red rage of anger came over my face,
as I was offered a choice of wheat grass, or guava or some
other juice,
and everyone I tasted I'm sure came from the rear end of a
moose.'
'For weeks I was humiliated from the North Pole to the
coast,
as the television, Women's Day, Cleo and even the Post,
followed my progress from "St Nic to just Saintly,
before finally my spot was taken from the TV,
and replaced by this new reality television show;
it's called "The Ice Block" and by storm it's taken the
North Pole,
its got four couples renovating their houses of ice bricks;
and if you're asking me the couple in number 3 are real
pricks�...'
I left him there and went on my way,
for on the subject of the "Ice Block" he had plenty more to
say,
that to tell you the truth I didn't want to hear,
and as I walked away I wondered what he would face in the
New Year;
though that answer I think I know and I fear:
North Pole Idol with "Touch-down!" from Bing,
where all the Elves and Polar bears get their big chance to
sing,
or Big Brother with live crosses to "The Igloo" or
"Survivor in the Snow",
"Rex Hunt's Ice Fishing Adventures"; just more reality and
infotainment shows.
So I stumbled home late, on the couch to sleep that night,
for I must have dozed off with the tele in full flight,
and I woke to hear the Gladiators readied by John
Alexander,
or was it another repeat of that Funniest Home Video Panda.
Now that I think of it, could it have just been a weird dream,
from sleeping on the couch, with reality TV still on the
screen.
G'day all,
well as another year draws itself to the end, a chance to shrug off the excuses and drop you, my friends a line. 2003 has been interesting in the amount of NSW that I have seen (or at least driven across in one of those zombie trances the road induces in me) as I have delivered OHS risk management training to farmers from Lismore to Wentworth (where the Murray meets the Darling - not the mountains near Penrith).
I did however use the opportunity to catch up with those friends that have been based in the various places across country NSW (thanks for having me - the de Saxes, Sarah and Brendon, Cutto and Kim, The Hankinsons and Kirks, the Grimms and Judes), as well as visiting my normal metropolitan haunts (so thanks - Tim and Jas, Steve and Westo in Sydney, and Ed and Cass, the girls of Bourke St (Cath, Kazza, Lou and Crrrusha) and the Watts in Wollongong, Wazza and Sarah, Goodo, Briggs and the Fat in Newcastle).
The other exciting things that I managed to fit into the year was participating in Steve and Di Watt's wedding in October, attending Hex and Susan's wedding in Wagga and managing to be selected for a Rotary Group Study Exchange next year which will take me to Wales and England for about two months next year, and I also managed to join the local Moree choir (and somehow haven't managed to get kicked out - yet). I played footy with the Goondiwindi Hawks in the Queensland AFLs Darling Downs competition, where we managed to make the grand final only to lose to the undefeated Coolaroo (thanks to Steve, Peta and Celia Collet for giving up the office most Saturday nights during football season).
I hope that 2004 continues to bring you all prosperity and the opportunity to catch up at some stage (OK Melbournites and Nth Queenslanders I will get there eventually).
cheers
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