The New Australian

Proudly nearly Australian since 2010. "I'm not grumpy, the rest of the world is just unrealistically upbeat"

The New Australian - Proudly nearly Australian since 2010. "I'm not grumpy, the rest of the world is just unrealistically upbeat"

A big river in Egypt – The university course

Self-advancement and edukashun is the differentiator between the civilised intellectual and the beast in the jungle.

It’s been suggested many times by the commentators of this organ that I am an uneducated, illiterate ignoramus with a patchy grasp of science, politics, economics, male business attire, grammar and mail order brides commensurate with that of an incompetent auto-didact.

Fair call.

So, taking matters into my own hands I’ve decided to go back to school.

Free education is an increasingly rare phenomenon here in Australia but, fortunately, you the taxpayer have kindly funded the lecturer of my new course to fly around the world recording interviews and lectures for my gratis betterment.

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The tide is turning on the Communists proponents of catastrophic man made climate change. Their main source of propaganda, the IPCC, has been forced to admit that there has been no statistically-significant warming for the last 18 years and sea levels continue at the long term (2 centuries) trend.

This, therefore, probably signifies the high point of the delusion. The moment those wishing and praying for a catastrophe to further their incursions into the rights of the individual and the expansion of the power of the state find themselves, Fonz-like, jumping the shark.

I encourage all readers of this organ to sign up to this course to understand the reasons why people, when faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, continue with a failed belief system.

Oh, hang on.

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Lovely Rita

A bit of local background needed here.

 

Last year, Manli ™ council phased out the resident’s parking sticker in the windows of cars and rolled out new parking ticket machines at all of the area’s controlled parking locations. Your key your car registration into the machine and, if it is registered as a resident’s vehicle, a free ticket is dispensed. If you’re a smelly westie type, you get charged the usual usurious rate.

 

 

 

Great idea, one would assume; the administration and expense of applying for and receiving parking stickers is reduced and a single register of vehicles is kept on the system for the machines to interrogate via their mobile data connection. In addition, the end of year rush as everyone re-registered is avoided and the administrative effort is smoothed out over the year. It also makes changing cars simpler too.

 

 

 

Great in theory. Except we got a parking fine last month….. with a valid ticket in the window.

 

Easy enough to challenge by posting the damn thing to them, of course. Here’s the rather supercilious reply;

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“A caution”?

Bless ‘em.

 

So that’s that then.

 

No, hang on a minute….

 

The fine is collected by the State authority? That’s interesting.

 

I wonder where the funds were allocated from for the capital investment, project costs and the ongoing maintenance of the system? As the roll-out was for the Manli ™ area only, how does the business case work if the revenue is collected by the State authority? One would hope that there’s a cross-allocation back to the good rate-payers of Manli ™ otherwise I can’t see the investment costs for the machines, the ongoing phone bills and system costs ever being covered.

 

But even if the collected revenue is directly re-hypothecated back to the local authority, think about the governance and management of the collections; if you were the manager in charge of the enforcement of parking regulations and the collection of parking revenue, even if it were outsourced, you would be incentivised to ensure as many tickets as possible were issued and the money was promptly collected. Your personal objectives would be set primarily to manage this.

 

If you don’t have direct control over the workforce of sicknotes parking rangers AND you didn’t get the revenue they were generating either, who gives a fuck?

 

Some further investigation is required to confirm exactly what the situation is but, prima facie, it looks illogical.

 

Government; making simple things look difficult and charging you for the privilege.

ABC Budget Cut Angst Bingo

At Chez TNA, our viewing and listening habits rarely trouble the services of either of the state broadcasters, with the notable exception of the children’s channel (and that’s mainly filled with content from overseas).

However, we never like to let an opportunity for schadenfreude pass, therefore this week we will be keeping the dial firmly on the ABC channels so that we can play “ABC Budget Cut Angst Bingo“.

This is a nascent game, the rules of which are still being firmed up but, broadly, the idea is that you find someone who is in denial about the fiscal landscape in which they are operating and then listen out for keywords, ticking them off as they arise.

The idea for this game has been forming for a while now as I find myself dealing with apparently senior staff who are struggling with the concept of making efficiency savings, cutting discretionary spend and planning new projects to ensure that they are self-funding rather than only having positive ROI in year 2.

Australia has been in the lucky position of not having a recession for over two decades. Let’s not pretend there was any skill involved; that would be crediting the RBA and various Treasurers with far more gumption than is probable. Regardless of whether it was due to luck or judgement, it’s great news for everyone, right?

 

Well yes, but (in the vernacular).

 

There’s a bit of a downside to that, as we’ve spoken about at length here. Any manager under, say, 50 years of age, has never experienced having responsibility for a budget during a recession unless they have spent considerable time working overseas. They probably won’t have the tools and techniques to make the rapid changes to their business model in response to (or better still in anticipation of) a downturn.

 

I’m seeing this all the time in the current gig; suggestions like, “let’s take all our costs and rank them in order of magnitude, largest to smallest, and attack the ones on the left first” are met with wide-eyed astonishment and awe. Ok, I exaggerate but I have had to explain that the technique is called Pareto to people with far more lines on their faces than me and not insignificant P&L responsibility, which does hint at the depth of the problem.

 

All good things come to those who wait and, finally after dragging their heels for a year since the election, the federal government have finally decided to reverse the trend of putting their hand in your pocket to give you comedy shows about Bondy ™ based hipsters, a demographic which probably less than half a percent of the population even knew existed, let alone cared about. You paid for a crudely photoshopped picture of a non-left wing journalist performing a sexual act with a dog too. Great value for money, eh?

 

The announcement yesterday was that the funding for the ABC would be cut by 5% year on year, which according to Clive Palmer would result in a 50% cut over ten years. Ponder that for a second….

 

Firstly, it’s a bit of a stretch to think that the government will win the next election and the next and the one following that, which is what would need to happen to ensure that the 5% reduction continued each year for a decade. Secondly, 5% reductions year on year result in a 41% reduction of the original total, not 50%. Such an expert grasp of numbers might explain why Palmer’s business “assets” give the impression that they might be as illusory as Robert Maxwell’s turned out to be.

 

But back to the shadenfreude….

 

This week is a great week to watch the non-BBC produced content on the ABC channels (coincidently, approximately 5% of the total) so that we can tick off the keywords as they come thick and fast. This might even be the week where one can safely watch the Southern Hemisphere HQ for Marxism, Q and A without risking throwing a wine glass at the eminently glassable smug smirk on the face of Tony Jones.

 

So, if you’re prepared to risk the expense of a new TV, here’s the handy print and cut out card for the ABC Budget Cut Angst Bingo game;

 Bingo!

 

A full house horizontally or vertically wins. Just to keep it from being too easy, you have to hear all the words in the line in one TV or radio programme. Start a new card for a new show.

 

You’re welcome.

Oh dear, what a shame, never

mind.

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This is the way the Roman Empire went (#52)

Hashtag everydaycoffeesexism.

 

Quite.

 

Somewhere in Australia, Mr. and Mrs. Holden are under the mistaken impression that their son, Matt, is an important and vital journalist. Woodward and Bernstein eat your heart out.

 

Matt spent literally moments on the internet researching his article. I’ve not seen the prospectus for a modern journalism degree but I suspect there’s at least half of an academic year dedicated to learning how to search Twitter and online fora (that’s the plural of “forum”, for any Australians reading this).

 

Sid the Sexist

 

Apparently, men and women order different drinks in coffee shops and, not unreasonably, the people serving them often unconsciously use these preferences when bringing their beverages to them. In any other job, that might be seen as an intelligent response by the staff.

 

But in Australia it’s the naked face of day to day sexism right there for you. Forget emotional speeches about misogyny from a beleaguered Prime Minister who was relying on the support of a corrupt customer of sex-workers or the fact that middle-aged female TV presenters are fired because their face is past its sell-by date.

 

No, sexism is all about the assumption that the lady will drink a milky drink and the gentleman will have the strong dark one.

 

Or as Pub Landlord Al Murray often points out,

 

Pint for the fella, glass of white wine or fruit based drink for the lady.

 

THEM’S the RULES.

 

Right then, has anyone got a telephone number for Alaric the Visigoth, we’ve got some work for him?

The red button on Fox Sports is bloody brilliant!

If like me, you’ve often wondered what the coaches are shouting into their microphones to the poor support team down at pitchside, I must direct you to the red button option on Fox Sports.

 

They’ve not publicised this but while suffering the indignity of losing to the Saffas this weekend I noticed that there is a multi-audio option now available on international rugby matches shown on Fox Sports Australia.

 

Firstly, and this is the option I will be constantly selecting in future, is the option to ditch the Australian commentary team, whom I find to be ridiculously partisan and also completely ignorant of the basic laws of the game (no Kearnsie, the words “double movement” do not appear anywhere in the law book). Welcome back to my life Brian Moore!

 

But best of all, they’ve added an audio channel link to the coaches’ box. This kept me interested for significant portions of the game this weekend while “a fairly average Springboks team” comprehensively white-washed a hapless English side by 3 points.

 

After a bit of a fisk around the Foxtel website, I’ve found the transcript of Heyneke Meyer’s advice and guidance to his team, to be passed on via the water carriers and other support personnel. Selected highlights from the first half follow;

 

Time – 00:00:05

(Whistle blows, England kick off to South Africa)

Heyneke Meyer: Bloody flip! Get a message on to the team to tell them they’ve got to secure the ball better from the kick-off!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:09:15

(Penalty to South Africa)

Heyneke Meyer: Lekker! Lekker! Get a message on to the team to tell them to force more penalties!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:15:21

(Try for South Africa)

Heyneke Meyer: Lekker! Lekker! Get a message on to the team to tell them to score more tries!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:16:45

(Dan Brown makes good yardage from a received kick)

Heyneke Meyer: Jeesh! For fok’s sake get a message on to the team to stop that doos from making any distance!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:26:32

(Penalty to England)

Heyneke Meyer: Ach nee man! Get a message on to Vermuelen to tell him he’s got to release the player in the tackle!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:39:46

(Missed penalty by South Africa)

Heyneke Meyer: Fokking doos! Get a message on to Lambie to tell him he’s got to kick straighter!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Time – 00:40:00

(Whistle blows for half time)

Heyneke Meyer: Right get a message on to the team to tell them that’s half time and meet me in the changing rooms for a briefing!

Head Water Runner: Yes baas.

 

Buster Blood Vessel

Courageous or self-unaware?

If one were to get up in the morning thinking, “hmm, today is a great day to wear a loud indigo linen suit”, perhaps ask your significant other to sanity check whether it clashes with your tan shoes (brown in town!) and ginger hair.

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While you’re at it, check to see if you’ve outgrown the trousers since you bought the outfit…..

Perhaps the kindest thing we can speculate about him is that he’s single.

Dressing like this it’s likely to be a permanent status too.

How can you “close” a village in a democracy?

It’s a question that struck me when I read about Western Australia’s mooted plans to “close more than 100 remote communities”.

 

In a democracy with rule of law, property rights, freedom of movement and freedom of association, what are the legal and practical steps a government (elected by the people for the people) must navigate to “close” a community? What does closing a community even mean?

 

Don’t look to the article on the Their ABC website for answers though.

 

It would be very difficult and a process fraught with considerable and credible legal challenges at every stage to close a community such as Cottesloe, for example. The whole project would be clogging up the courts for decades, probably generations.

 

Why? The residents have independent incomes and privately-owned property.

 

Sure, there’s precedent for compulsory purchase orders when building infrastructure such as roads, dams or Springfield monorails but the independent courts (cough) are going to be reticent to allow a blanket purchase of an entire village or town. Magna Carta, innit?

 

However, if the entire population of Cottesloe lived in property provided by the government and subsisted entirely on government handouts, their existence might be somewhat more precarious. Termination of housing leases, closure of the local Centrelink office, closure of the government-owned grocery store, etc. would certainly make things a little tricky for those community members wishing to stay. I suppose if enough of them found work in the private sector they would be able to take control back of their lives though.

 

Perhaps that’s what Bella Brohpo was referring to in this quote;

 

Closing down these communities will only make more people homeless and despair. The way we choose to live, it should be our choice and we shouldn’t have domination of Government people telling us how to live or where to live.

 

Quite right Bella, you and I are absolutely in agreement on reducing the domination of the government. They should have no say in how or where we live. The less a government is interfering in my quiet enjoyment of life, the happier I am.

 

But should they pay for our choices though? Especially if those choices result in extreme hazard to minors? Cottesloe doesn’t currently have an infant mortality rate three times that of, say, Fremantle but the now empty Nyungah Community did.

 

As a taxpayer, I’d be extremely hostile to the idea that a single dollar of my daily labour is translated into subsidies to maintain the status quo in a location where, if children aren’t dying before they learn to walk, they are being raped, beaten and not provided adequate education and healthcare.

 

For a country with such a heavy lean towards statism, it seems incongruous that this keep em poor, keep em dying policy is still in place. If Australia can find $40bn to nationalise the provision of high definition porn the internet to everyone’s house, why haven’t these subsidies to live hours and hours away from basic services been removed? The alternative is to provide every one of these remote communities with a fully-equipped hospital, police and social services on a fly-in/fly-out basis, GPS-standard high school and a Telstra call centre where all the adults work heavily subsidised by tax-breaks.

 

If neither of these two choices are taken, Australia is effectively reverting to the lie of Separate but Equal and Plessy vs Ferguson, 1896.

 

 

What could possibly go wobbegong?

“Sustainability” is one of those words which can immediately raise the hackles for anyone who has realised that the Eco-Fascists are playing an agenda in many areas of our lives disguised by faux concerns for the environment.

 

The aims of many of their policies are hard to disagree with but the preferred solution is nearly always authoritarian and inappropriate. Offer an alternate opinion and you risk being dismissed as a “denier”.

 

Take this current suggestion, for example; make most of the bays and ocean around Sydney a marine park. Of course, we all want the marine life to be “sustainable”, nobody wants a species to be threatened by our actions.

 

However, what exactly does this marine park proposal consist of?

 

It’s fairly obvious that commercial fishing will be the first casualty. Our Calabrian friends down at Sydney Fish Market will have to spend a lot more time further out to sea to bring in their catches, the cost of which will be passed straight to the consumer. If you had previously wondered why a city situated next to an ocean has seafood that is more expensive than London wait until the fleet has been upgraded to enable longer periods away from shore. The current reason for the high prices is twofold, by the way; high rents and a Mafia monopoly.

 

The Sydney Morning Property Advertiser has a helpful little picture on the stub of this story which suggests an even more draconian outcome though; leisure angling will also be banned.

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Given the fact that he’s employed by Fairfax, one wouldn’t expect that Peter Hannam would have read, let alone reported on the draft proposal. So here at The New Australian, we have.

 

The draft vision is two and a half pages long and offers no tangible details as to what is being proposed. The usual discredited climate change bollocks is repeated by rote in the third paragraph, despite the lack of warming for 18 years, during which time the carbon in the atmosphere has increased by 12.5%, and the predicted catastrophic sea level rises don’t show any signs of kicking in anytime soon (I’m still waiting for someone to show me a nautical chart with a depth updated for climate change, by the way).

 

Little else is detailed in the “vision” until you get to page two and the three “bold” actions we are expected to take. All three of which have the word protection in the headline statement. Translation; legislation resulting in reduced individual rights and freedoms.

 

Marine parks and no take zones (i.e. banning private angling) is legislated under the Fisheries Management Act 1994. To designate an area as a “no take zone”, the responsible minister (and this has included the Minister for Fisheries AND the Minister for Climate Change – yes, there is such a person in New South Wales) just needs to write a Regulation and put a notice in the Gazette. Here’s the clause;

 

194 Declaration of aquatic reserves

(1) The Minister may, by notice published in the Gazette, declare an area

specified in the notice to be an aquatic reserve.

 

 

So, worryingly, there is nothing to prevent the entire coast from Botany Bay, Sydney Harbour and Pittwater being declared a “no take zone” pretty much immediately.

 

Obviously, the elected Ministers of New South Wales are responsible officials, acting in the best interest of the electorate and would never consider abusing such a wide-reaching delegation of power for their own personal gain. The most recent Regulation was enforced in 2002, let’s have a quick look at the first page;

 

 

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Oh.

Sydney buys a monorail from Springfield

This organ has nothing but total respect for the public transport system of Sydney.

The seamless integration of the timetables of various ferries, trains and buses, the world class ticketing system successfully implemented as an early adopter of smartcard technology and the forward planning of expansion as the population sprawls out to more distant new suburbs.

Everything screams “world class”. No wonder the good burghers of other world cities flock here on fact-finding missions to learn the secrets of our integrated public transport system.

Which is why we can forgive the Sydney planners for this mild project budget overrun before hardly a shovel has broken ground. What’s the odd 25% between friends (assuming none of your friends are professional infrastructure project managers)?

 

Just a teeny $600m underestimate on a $1.6bn project. Nice.

 

One can only hope that the revised budget has taken into account the mandatory “donations” to union leaders’ Superannuation funds and the account set-up at the Red Turbo Spa to pay for the hire of the room used to negotiate the enterprise bargaining agreements.

 

Those of you who are unfamiliar with New South Wales government procurement practices might be somewhat confused as to why the estimates were so undercooked at the point that the project was about to kick off. The answer isn’t too difficult to work out once you realise that the prime contractor engaged to build the railway is a joint venture by the name of Obeid/Roozenthal Industrial Construction Consortium.

 

Fortunately, we have the NSW State Government’s top negotiation team on the case;

 Negotiation Excellence

Just to be clear, Royal Randwick Racecourse are getting a station out the deal, bringing punters direct to their door. One doesn’t need to be the hardest-arsed negotiator to think that should be more than enough quid pro quo for the use of some land as a marshalling yard, but no, the people charged with the responsibility to look after our tax dollars think we ought to build a multi-storey car park for free too. Isn’t that generous of us?

 

Time to remind ourselves of the 4 ways to spend money;

 

P. J. O’Rourke once suggested that there were only 4 ways to spend money;

“1. You spend your money on yourself. You’re motivated to get the thing you want most at the best price. This is the way middle-aged men haggle with Porsche dealers.

2. You spend your money on other people. You still want a bargain, but you’re less interested in pleasing the recipient of your largesse. This is why children get underwear at Christmas.

3. You spend other people’s money on yourself. You get what you want but price no longer matters. The second wives who ride around with the middle-aged men in the Porsches do this kind of spending at Neiman Marcus.

4. You spend other people’s money on other people. And in this case, who gives a s**t?

Most government spending falls into category four. Which is why the government keeps buying us Hoover Dams, B-1 bombers, raids on Waco cults, and 1972 Federal Water Pollution Control Acts.”

If only there was a more equitable and efficient way to fund new railways. Oh, hang on.

The perfect marinade, Mama Privée stylée

Here at The New Australian Mama Privée we often get asked” how do you manage to get such a succulent and vibrant flavour to your kebabs whilst juggling the demands of a spoilt only child, a beautiful house in the most fabulous location in Australia, an alpha male primary income generator husband and yet STILL remain glamorous and stylish?“.

The answer, as we are about to exclusively share with you, dear envious reader existing out in less affluent postcodes, is simplicity itself.

Why are we giving these secrets away for free? Well, it’s less demanding than doing charity work and we both get something out of it; you receive enlightenment and we bask in the glow of your envy.

Back to the subject at hand. Have you ever gone to the trouble of marinating meat only to find it doesn’t really taste of any of those subtle flavours you painstakingly added to the marinade?

Of course you have, you pathetic leisure-time poor western suburbs scum.

This is where you’re going wrong and the solution…..

If, when you marinate, you simply soak the meat in your chosen sauce for a few hours, all you’re really doing is basting the skin.

If you really want to marinate your meat (and of course you do because your life experiences are so limited that you will never witness the Aurora Borealis, gorillas mating in Bwindi Park or attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion) what you must do is find a way of penetrating those flavours deep into the flesh of your cheap non-organic supermarket genetically-modified e-number rich protein.

You’ll need to buy three items;

1. Some meat. Mama Horsey likes the subtle taste of the flesh of organic fairtrade Golden Eagle, Giant Panda and (don’t tell anyone, but I have a secret source) Dodo.
2. A medium sized food grade plastic pot with an airtight lid. Bunnings sell one for $10 but an empty large Greek yogurt pot will suffice if you are pathetic and a bit ethnic.
3. A one way valve. You could have these hand made by Tuscan artisans like we do or a budget option is to buy a pack of 10 from eBay for $2.50.

First task, ask your breadwinner husband to drill a small hole in the lid of the pot, assuming he’s not out playing around golf as per usual.

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Then push the valve into the lid. It should be a snug fit, like that time you agreed to do that painful and disgusting favour for your husband in exchange for a beautiful gift from Tiffany’s.

 

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Next, add your meat and spices. We’ve used garlic, ginger, coriander (cilantro, for our dear readers in The Hamptons), apple cider vinegar from Normandy, organic sesame oil, Maldon sea salt, the finest Javan pepper and nutmeg, saffron, gold leaf and unicorn tears. Give it all a stir to coat the meat evenly, like some horrid culinary version of Communism.

 

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You’ll now need to do something I find a little demeaning and distasteful so I ask my housekeeper to do it as she’s a bit slutty. You have to put your lips over the valve and suck the air out of the pot to make a vacuum. This has the effect of opening up the pores of the meat allowing the flavour to rush in.

15 minutes in this vacuum marinator is the equivalent of a normal overnight marination using whatever pathetic suburban method you employ.

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Then load the meat onto skewers. These wire skewers are imported from Selfridges and are excellent for use on the smaller barbecue we have at our summer holiday home in Avoca.

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And here they are sizzling away in all their glamorous flavoursome lifestyle beauty.

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Serve with saffron rice, seasonal vegetables al dente, a chilled white Burgundy and an intense discussion about private schools and house prices.

Today’s blog post was guest authored by Mama Trinny and Mama Susannah who were most pleased with this organ’s appreciation of their work.

The trend is our friend

Over lunch yesterday in the excellent company of a lurker of this organ, Diplo, the subject turned to tonight’s test match between the dirty cheating bastards All Blacks and the Mighty, Mighty England at Rugby HQ.

Our consensus was that, despite being a little injury-hit this week, the boys in white will discharge their duties well and should take the Kiwis close. Certainly closer than the three gerrymandered tests earlier in the year.

One point of conversation was a shared perception that New Zealand’s penalty count seems to be creeping up over recent tests. The words yellow card and Richie McCaw in the same sentence would have seemed like a fantasy come true a couple of years ago but now the seal has been broken and the cloak of invisibility that Bilbo Baggins loaned to the Captain of the Offside Law seems to have slipped.

But what of that perception that the cheating cheaters are cheating more, or getting caught more often at least?

Turns out it’s true. I had a hunt around the various websites offering rugby statistics to see if there was a database we could query and then I found this article which has done the work for us already.

Between 2005 and 2011, the All Blacks played 92 Tests, and were on the receiving end of 25 yellow cards through this time. This equates to an average of one for every 3.68 Tests played.

By contrast, their opponents copped 30 yellows, and two reds, for the same period – with a mean of 2.87 Tests per sanction.

Fast-forward to between 2012 and 2014, and the search threw out 17 All Black yellow card sanctions from 33 Tests, with the average lowering dramatically to one card for every 1.9 Tests, a drop of nearly two full Tests per sanction.

Through the same time frame, their opponents suffered just 10 yellow cards, at one for every 3.3 Tests – which represents an additional 0.4 Tests of playing time, per infringement.

The numbers suggest that the All Blacks are cheating more, while their opponents are either getting smarter, or are actually more disciplined.

The article goes on to draw a link between the increase in yellow cards and the change in the head honcho overseeing international referees….. from a Kiwi to a Saffa.

Maybe there’s something in that theory but I wonder if that’s not all? In the case of Saint Richie, I suspect he’s getting caught more for the first time because he’s physically slowing down. Where he would have had a little fiddle off his feet or on the wrong side of the “gate” and be back onside whistling like an innocent cherub by the time the referee had turned his gaze, now, as middle age takes its toll, those extra milliseconds he requires to cheat play on the edge of the law are the difference between a illegal turn-over or a penalty against the world champions.

This is great news for England and South Africa, the two other contenders for the 2015 Rugby World Cup, because it is compounded by another serious problem for New Zealand rugby; what we might call The Sachin Tendulkar Quandry. Quite simply, the status of legend with which the man is held in his home country means that he’s become one of those players who almost defines the sport for a while. It’ll take a man far braver, popular and respected than Steve Hansen to get away with dropping Richie McCaw between now and next year’s world cup.

There’s a third problem for New Zealand too; they’ve got the piss-easiest pool to play in the opening games, which never goes well for them.

So that’s why this organ is making three predictions today;

1. A 5 to 10 point win by England tonight
2. England vs South Africa in the world cup final
3. New Zealand to leave the tournament at the quarter final after losing to France

Check in this time tomorrow to see how this trifecta is progressing. Don’t expect any reply to comments before 11am Sydney time though as we’ll be watching it at 8am and avoiding all communication devices until we’ve seen the entire match.

A debut Richmond

My lunch date today was a fellow ex-pat with a fine eye for a Richmond opportunity, sometimes lurker of this parish; “Diplo”.

A pleasant repast at my favourite Japanese barbecue restaurant was made even more enjoyable by fine and witty conversation interrupted by a shout of surprise as a classic 67 point Richmond sat down at an adjacent table.

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I wonder if Clive Palmer’s wife minds him having lunch with the office intern that he unknowingly hired from the Chinese secret service?

This sets a high bar for the Richmond Game newcomer. How are you going to beat this first attempt, Diplo?

Probably time for a visit to the UK’s version of Surf City…..

Where’s my compo?

Australia, sometimes one has to wonder where it all went wrong?

 

How did a nation forged from a turbulent and tough history of exiled criminals, brutal suppression of the indigenous inhabitants, gold rush prospectors and hardy farming stock reduce itself to this?

 

A woman in Victoria was awarded $140,000 because she left her engine running while her dogs were in the car, one of which knocked the handbrake and the car rolled onto her.

 

The compensation (“compo” in the vernacular) was awarded from Victoria’s Transport Accident Commission. This is a government organisation funded by the compulsory vehicle insurance all drivers and riders in Victoria must pay.

 

It’s a “no fault” scheme, which means you can be as fucking stupid as you want in a motor vehicle and someone will pick up the tab for the consequences of your actions. Which explains why lawyer Ann Cunningham managed to grab a nice chunk of cash for her and her client, despite the glaringly obvious fact that her client is entirely responsible for her own injuries.

 

Maybe I’m just a bit too Libertarian-leaning but this just seems morally reprehensible; taxing people to pay into a fund which compensates idiots for being idiots. Perhaps I’d be more comfortable if the fund only paid out for accidents caused by third parties without insurance, but the current rules are rewarding the careless at the expense of the diligent.

 

This isn’t an extreme example of the Australian entitlement/compensation culture either, click the category “Australia Frontier Nation” for further head-shakingly depressing instances of idiots being paid for their stupidity. The woman who got a pay out because she injured herself whilst having overly-energetic sex in a hotel room on a business trip is my favourite.

 

Frankly, if you can’t beat them, join them.

 

As inferred on this organ a few weeks ago, I’ve suffered a bit of a physical set-back. A disc in my lower back burst following a fairly robust 10km run to the office in September. Much agony ensued and two nights in hospital did little to alleviate the pain but did remind me why I gave up hallucinogenics in the 90s. As of today, I’ve still got a reasonable level of constant pain and need a walking stick to cover any distance longer than 100 metres.

 

All in all, a bit of a rapid slow down for someone who considered 60km on the bike and 20km running his base level of weekly exercise. My ambition to progress to short board surfing this summer has been given a smack in the chops too.

 

I’ve had to take unpaid leave from work, buy prescription medicine, non-prescription “botanicals” (bush-grown, not hydroponic, natch) to help with pain relief, MRI scans, appointments with specialists and a forthcoming operation. Yes, Medicare paid for some of this, my health care fund for some others but I’m still out of pocket.

 

Here’s the thing; this is Australia, the home of the fair go. Someone needs to step up and pick up the tab for all this and any future expenses and loss of earnings.

 

Obviously I’m doing the research now, but I’d like to put this to the talented and expansive network of consumers of The New Australian. How can I claim and from whom?

 

Reminder of the circumstances;

Location of injury – the hill between North Sydney Oval and Sydney Harbour Bridge

Activity – Sprinting like a loon down the hill at the end of a 10km run to work (worker’s compensation?)

Value of claim – Approx. $10k in medical fees, $30k in lost earnings, $15k for a 2nd car, $10k in lost prize money at the National Surf Championships, $200 for half an ounce of natural pain relief.

 

Come people, get your thinking caps on, who do I land the claim on?

UPDATE:

H/t Russell…..

Running to work is covered by Worker’s Compensation here in New South Wales Cuba.

Fuck me backwards this country never ceases to amaze me.

UPDATE 2
Should have done the injury two years ago before the legislation changed to be sensible. At least there’s no moral dilemma for John Galt TNA.

Camper than a row of swags

Are you going to Camp Gallipoli?

Are you hoping to meet a cute blonde wearing a cheap Chinese-made nylon Australian flag (‘cos that’s appropriate when remembering the casualties of war, right)?

Made in China

Well, there’s no need to spend a night out in the cold, flag-wearing pulchritude can be fund in warmer, less sombre locales….

ChavballMaybe you’re hoping to have a few quiet drinks with your friends?

Sorry but you can’t because alcohol is banned.

Well, not banned like Saudi Arabia but banned as in you can’t bring your own booze. That doesn’t stop you buying over-priced booze from the bar though, because all Remembrance services have a bar, don’t they?

You can just imagine the organising committee’s debate on that agenda item;

Hmmm, we don’t want any bogans getting loudly pissed and inappropriate at this sombre event but they can get loudly pissed and inappropriate if they can afford to buy grog from us.

Maybe you are looking forward to sleeping in your Premium 1915 Replica Swag? Or even planning on having a drunken fumble with the cute blonde in the Chinese flag in your Premium 1915 Double Replica Swag?

I wonder how many of the Diggers shared double swags? We’d need to check the war memorial on Oxford Street for an indication, one supposes.

Swag

Don’t worry or wonder whether what you’re sleeping in is in any way authentic or not, of course the boys slept in exactly the same gear 100 years ago. Well, maybe some of them did while a few others perhaps slept in something more similar to a canvas sleeping bag. These mere details aren’t important right now.

Don’t forget to take up the option of having an ADF personnel number marked on your Premium tent swag.

You’ll probably fancy a bit of tucker with all this authentic and appropriate remembrance. Good news is that your $121 ticket includes a traditional Australian meal of the time (which I guess means British or Irish really unless they’re serving Aboriginal bush tucker or some Chinese goldrush cuisine).

Right then, time to settle down to a selection of cracking ANZAC Day movies. Ok, the movie is going to be a tastefully-produced documentary this year but don’t forget to set your Foxtel Plus to record all the great films that will be shown that week. Don’t expect to record many showing Churchill in a sympathetic light though because it was all his fault, apparently.

So, log on and buy your ticket for the once in a lifetime experience of camping in the park.

If you enjoy this historic event, put a date in your diary for the following year for the opportunity to attend a free circus and collect freshly baked bread.

Happy dress like a pikey or prostitute day!

It’s here again! The day when half of Australia get up, open their wardrobe and think to themselves, “hmm, what can I wear today that strikes just the right balance between classy and sexy?” and then get it almost exactly completely wrong.

We’ll run a rolling blog post today where any quality pictures of badly-dressed muppets will be loaded up as they are captured.

If you see any, email the picture to thenewaustralian at Gmail dot com along with your preferred nickname. Happy hunting, punters!

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First entry in from a sonambulent Vegemite Wife. She’s in her bedsit in LevenshulmeThe edge‘ and is missing the old country. Apparently, Mariah Carey is making a guest appearance at Flemington this afternoon;
Flemington Filly

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Slim pickings today. Busy day at Bureau de TNA and the rest of you have been a disappointment, frankly.

Here’s some classy ink on a girl talking to someone on her mobile phone about fairly personal matters loudly and quite uninhibitedly as she walked the streets. Apparently she’d had “7 or 8 champagnes”, which I think is Australia for “7 or 8 glasses of sparkling wine”.

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Bondy ™ MILFs

Today’s blog post was going to be about something else, probably one of these subjects; the immorality of collectivism,  the Gallipoli hype, Australia’s disease of over-reach,  a Richmond photo or just generally trolling climate change thumbsuckers, but instead, Aussie Pride has completely diverted our attention to Bondy’s answer to Trinny and Susannah.

 

The utter bastard.

 

I mean that in the nicest possible way, but what a bastard to make us all aware of that website. Now we’ll not get anything done in the office as we browse the car crash that is the anectgloatal blog, Mama Privée.

 

At first read one thinks, “this is a parody, surely?”. But then, as you page through the pages and pages of advice, opinion and excuses to post views from someone’s picturesque balcony, you realise that this is genuinely a blog written by two women who think there’s a market for parenting advice for female 30-somethings in the Bondy ™ area with functioning uteruses and a disposable income equivalent to most people’s mortgage repayments.

 

There are many crimes in life, but perhaps the most heinous of all is to be self-unaware. All sorts of consequences arise when one fails to recognise internal faults and weaknesses.

 

A major consequence of Mama Michelle and Mama Vic Trinny and Susannah’s ramblings on all things reproductive in the 2026 postal area is that we all get to laugh like drains at their complete lack of embarrassment and desperation to become Sloane Rangers. By the way, the similarity between Trinny and Susannah isn’t just in the Sloaney aspirational bollocks; there’s a horsey-faced semi-attractive one and a dumpy minger on Mama Privée, just like the celebrity clothes-horses.

 

The website is an absolute comedy gold mine. We could pick any of the posts they’ve written but this one is as good as any; Girls Weekend.

 

A quick skim read will lead you to the conclusion that the young fillies are clearly both on their first marriages. How do we know this? Well, anyone who thinks it’s appropriate to explain to the world that her husband is a chauvinistic arsehole who doesn’t usually pull his weight around the domestic chores and parenting duties obviously hasn’t experienced the cost and disruption of a divorce.

 

Also, only someone with an incomplete set of requirements for a life partner would contemplate marrying anyone who played golf, because golf is for twats. Just look at what they wear if you’re in any doubt.

 

To punish equal her husband’s leisure time away from her, Mama Michelle Trinny books a skiing weekend without him. Because that’s what you do when you love someone, isn’t it? Spend loads of time apart on golf and ski weekends, etc. Heaven forbid that they ever found a hobby or pastime they both enjoyed otherwise they’d have to, y’know, spend time in each other’s company.

 

The Mamas sans Papas are not content with telling us they’ve gone skiing, an activity probably 25% of the people in her post code also did this winter, but they’ve got to put into context for us. Look at the tame activities they could have done but instead opted for the daring and recklessness of sliding slowly down a blue run in Thredbo between long lunches and boozy dinners;

Rock AND Roll

Ellen Macarthur eat yer heart out.

 

A blog post on Bondy ™ MILFs, sorry, Mama Privée, isn’t complete without pictures of the authors enjoying the expensive thing that they are gloating about, be it food, alcohol, shoes, holidays, etc. The Girls’ Weekend Away blog post goes one further; they even give some other ideas and locations to spend time away from your family. They’re really pitching this blog as some sort of lifestyle service, aren’t they? If only they could monetize it they could give up full time work and just get free money from someone other than their husbands for lounging around supping soy decaffe lattes in Bondy ™ with their only child…. Oh, hang on.

 

We’ve added a permanent link to the comedy genius that is Bondy’s ™ Trinny and Susannah but, in the meantime, I suggest you sign up to their “newsletter” so you get the juice from the source.

 

By the way, some linguistic and etymological information for those who are interested;

 

Privée is the feminine version of the French adjective and noun for private. It has a secondary meaning though, that of private place, which is why it has been appropriated by English to mean toilet.

Mama is a term used by Hells Angels for women who are considered the property of the entire gang, as opposed to a gang member’s exclusive relationship with his “lady”.

Mama is also the name of another fashion-conscious trend-setter, Mama Cass.

 

Mama

UPDATE:
I’ve yet to receive a cease and desist letter from either Trinny or Susannah’s legal team but they have removed the skiing holiday lifestyle blog post. You’ll just have to got to the main menu to get your hilarity.

Or look at this picture of one of their husbands doing a passable impersonation of Arthur Dent in Florence.

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The future of the ARU board is safe

Looks like we’ve got loads of potential replacement board members being groomed to take on the demise of Rugby Union in Australia. If the sport is still being played here in 20 years’ time, any one of these booster seat occupants will be excellent fodder for the GPS-Alumni Sheltered Workshop that is the ARU board. Billy Boy can fall on his sword at the end of November as agreed, safe in the knowledge that, Boys From Brazil-esque, there is generation ready behind him.

 

The entitlement culture is strong in the Scots’ College parents. Apparently, driving a hundred grand’s worth of German 4×4 means that the regular rules of the road are not applicable to you.

 

Can’t wait for a space to open for you? Just drive down the footpath, after all, it’s only testing a small component of the highly-engineered off-road capabilities of the vehicle.

Off Road in Woolhra

 

Someone needs to have a serious word with the NSW Land and Environment Court, however. How dare they enforce consequences to the parents’ actions!

 

Imagine if this action/consequence linkage was demonstrated to the wee bairns, just think what chaos it might cause in later years….. These future employees of Macquarie Bank might start considering others or even being wary of being perceived as brash, arrogant and without empathy.

 

No, this decision must be overturned by a higher court before the very fabric of Sydney’s elite society falls apart.

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