Most people say the best way to start a speech is with a
joke, but this isn't a speech it’s a blog post and I have already made a joke
but only two people will have gotten it so here’s the first thing that made me
laugh last night at the Opera House...
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| The risk of ordering over the phone is a great one. |
I’ll go on about the Opera House later in this post, for now
I will go on about last week.
Last week I was working, which means this week I can start
saving some money to continue travelling around Aussieland. After work each day
I and the other amigos went for $10 meals at various places as cooking is
something that is more of a chore when you are tired and the moment you come in
from work everybody (including Brian) is in the kitchen waiting to use the
limited amount of equipment just to make some pasta.
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| (You must be French to get this joke) |
Working as a removalist is pretty straight forward most of
the time, pick that up, put it on a truck, take it to another place, rinse,
repeat. A nice bonus is that I can drive the trucks, so I get paid a few
peanuts more than I would if I didn't drive for the removalators. Driving
the removaliser trucks has reminded me how much I love driving so I have decided
to look at buying/renting a car and making my own way south in the summer, but
that’s something to think about later as right now it’s all about working lots
and making pots (of money).
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| I'm a poet, and I totally know it! |
The past weekend was an interesting one, the Saturday night was spent in 3 very different places with 3 Frenchies and an Italian. First up was a bar with no name, tucked in an
alleyway off of Crown Street with no windows or signs to distinguish it from any
other building. After entering, it is clear the ‘sign budget’ was spent on more
important things...
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| ...like taxidermy |
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| At least I managed to pull a fox! |
After a few Bundy and cokes we toddled off to a place called 'Low' where we pulled silly faces and I explained to Alex the meaning of the
phrase ‘ he who dares wins’, all very inspirational, even if I did keep saying it in the style of Del Boy.
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| Mange Tout! |
Last on the agenda was Flinder’s Hotel, it wasn’t that good
as the music would go from brilliant rock classics to awful songs by Usher and the like,
resulting in a mire of confusion on the dance floor as the rock fans shifted
awkwardly around the people who were standing still waiting for a good song to
be played. 4 O’Clock loomed and we went back to the hostel as 22 hours is a
long time to be awake in one go.
Sunday, I did nothing until the sun went down, went to the
rooftop for the first time since staying at the Elephant, ate a pizza and then
went to the Opera House to see Dylan Moran.
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| View from the rooftop |
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| Opera House |
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| Dylan Moran |
It is an odd thing to see a comedian who usually talks about
things you can relate to but because of the circumstances you relate to the
comedian rather than the jokes, at least that’s how I felt for the first 10
minutes when Moran spoke about Australia in the same way I did a couple of
months ago (The politicians are really odd (Moran says Gillard looks like some
kind of pantomime horse, I say she looks like a bad caricature of Thatcher, but
we both agree that Abbott probably spends most of his time in church praying
that all the gay black people die). The point about Australia’s ‘winter’ was
also made, because it isn't a winter at all. The other odd thing was he had to
explain things for the Aussie crowd, like the notion of a place called ‘Newcastle’
in the north of England which is home to girls that go mad when it is too dark
and too cold for too long and wear string on a night out, whereas in Britain he
could have probably just said ‘Geordie girls in winter’ and we would all laugh.
But I learned that there is no reason to go to Perth because the only reason
anybody is there is because of ‘the shit in the ground’ and Townsville because ‘Nothing?
It doesn't have ‘nothing’, it is on the waiting list for ‘nothing’’. Also
Newcastle (the Australian one) is just ‘five lanes of gridlocked traffic queuing
for the suicide bridge’, unlike the British one which is five lanes of girls
complaining about their uncomfortable shoes in between vomiting on the high
street and being given Bacardi Breezers by a guy with £300 designer jeans that
look like they have been worn whilst he was doing a plastering job down the
road... Actually I think that is most cities? Anyway, Dylan Moran was
funny and as a special treat to you for reading this almost 900 word blog post, here
is a picture of a possum eating an apple (which will probably be stuffed next week and
put into that bar with no name) along with a few other pictures from taken last night.
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| You've earned it! |
I was feeling pretty happy so I treated myself to some
crocodile sausages in the cafe and then proceeded to kick some arse in ‘goon
pong’ (like beer pong, except the beer has been replaced by poison grape juice)
and then out to World Bar with Matteo (from Sardinia), Matt (from Somerset) and
Michelle (from London).
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