hardtack

Thanks… it’s either a shocking image, or my eyesight is completely screwed… I was trying to figure out who the additional indigenous player was 🤣

My humour laden songs: And finally, for this one, DO NOT listen if you are easily offended, it’s pretty offensive in so many ways…

I’m showing my lack of attention, but who?

Please do… I’ll keep you posted.

Started cycle #2 of this current round of chemo, today. It’s the same poison that they were pumping into me last year, so at least there are no nasty surprises waiting for me. Unfortunately it has meant putting gigs on hold and cancelling a couple we had pencilled in, but I do plan to not let it hold me back this time around…it’s not like it’s going to kill me 🤣 I apologise for removing a lot of my images, but unfortunately the limitations applied to attachment allowances, means that I run out of space very quickly. I’d actually suggest, welcome even, that if you have a Facebook and/or Instagram presence, send me a friend request, I’ll definitely add you as long as you identify yourself, and you’ll be able to follow the secret life of Tim. I’ve attached a few photos from a Terry Serio gig I attended and photographed on Saturday at my local bar (the Butchers Brew). There is also one taken of me by the fiddle player from the Salonistas, Terry’s support band. I hope you like them. Hope to see some of you there… https://www.facebook.com/share/1BpitU3XSp/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Not long ago I watched the movie ‘Weapons’ on HBO Max. I was pleasantly surprised at how good it was… I was expecting a run of the mill horror flick, but it turned out to have a few good twists and an injection of quality black humour. Best ‘horror’ movie I’ve seen since ‘Descent’. Recommended!

Ah yes, I was a participant in Demonology until those brothers (were they brothers?) spoiled everything in an effort to take over the site. Hannibal, my arch nemesis RobbieF and others too numerous to mention… plenty of good old fashioned [censored] fights back then… now it’s somewhat like the difference between good old boots and all VFL and the sanitised AFL we now tolerate (not that there’s anything wrong with that) 😁

Trump would cross any road if it meant lower taxes (Boston being a centre for high taxes)? With his history of bankruptcies (6, or is it 7), I imagine he’d walk straight under a bus, which might be a very satisfactory punch line for that joke.

Looking at the signature, I’d be looking into graffiti artists as that is definitely a ‘tag’ as opposed to a regular signature. The photo is interesting just for the fact that it was taken by a local Perth based photographer…the fact that they were together could indicate that the poster was obtained from said photographer? Is it worth attempting to contact this Richard Wainwright chap to see if he has any knowledge of it?

Confidence can often be misread as arrogance…I get the feeling that he has found a place where he feels comfortable and it’s starting to show in his approach to the game.

Ah, I hadn’t realised that Bob was linked (he’s also played with a great little band called Los Romeos Oxidados 😉), and I’d never considered that Greg Macainsh would have sat out injured. Thanks for those snippets!

It is, but unfortunately, what choice do they have? It only takes one troll to bring down a person’s self esteem, so when there’s a pile on, I can’t imagine how bad it must be for the targeted individual. Anyway, I suppose that we can live without that stat…the only important thing is that the club keeps across such things.

I didn’t know that any of them did, and none of their names strike a chord (pun unintended) when I think of the Skyhooks. I’m pretty sure that they’re a Sydney based band as as I see them listed in gig guides every now and then, often a pub somewhere around the Lidcombe(?) area. The only former Skyhook I know that’s living in Sydney, is Bob Spencer, and he’s got no connection with them at all.

I hope they do a better job than my medical specialist. I need to have my height and weight checked before they dose me up, and this week they had me at 183cm & 87.5kg…now, the weight I could gladly take, but I’m 188cm for gawd’s sake! As a child I’d been pointed out as being a bit of a shrinking violet, but they made me shorter than my sons!!

A few assorted things from the dim dark past…

Just wanted to say that I’m absolutely loving how broad your taste appears to be…it’s grand to be an eclecticist!

A festering relationship?

I went to the concert he did for that 1996 tour, at Sydney’s State Theatre… it was so good!

‘Spin’ is the key word… CA went without it, while the MFC used it to excuse their poor selections.

Back on the juice as of today…

There was something in the way he moved that carving knife.

Ok then, possibly the only other joke I can remember… Sir Henry Rawlinson is a wealthy businessman courtesy of an inheritance, who has several large operations that he very occasionally deigns to visit, but usually opting to work from the comfort of his sprawling mansion just outside Oxford. (none of this has much to do with the joke, I’m just padding it out with useless information…and you ain’t seen nothing yet!). Well, on this particular day Sir Henry decided to visit his sock emporium located on Castle Street in the city of Oxford. Now, when Sir Henry visits any of his business premises, he like to start the day with a bubble bath, meticulously prepared by his faithful old retainer, Waddle. Sir Henry called out, his booming voice echoing down the corridors, loud enough to wake the ghosts of centuries past. “Waddle!!”, he cries, “Waddle, I’ll be visiting my sock emporium today, so could you please prepare my bath to the usual 74°F (we ARE in Britain, after all), and with a three and three quarter inch layer of jasmine scented foam on top.”. As Sir Henry was finishing up his sentence, Waddle arrived, puffing from the effort (he’d been busy preparing Sir Henry’s breakfast at the other end of the mansion), and greeted Sir Henry with an enthusiastic, “Of course sir…as you wish sir!”. Today was no ordinary day, as it was Waddle’s birthday; no one really seemed to know how old he was, Waddle himself had lost track…but that is of no consequence to this tale. Sir Henry held a fondness for Waddle, of the kind that a veteran of the Boer War might hold for his old hunting dog, that is on its last legs. “Happy birthday old chap!” he said, in as gentle a voice as he could muster, “After you have finished preparing my bath and breakfast, as a tribute to your passing years, I am awarding you the rest of the morning off!”. And so Waddle ran the bath, diligently checking the temperature of the water to ensure that it didn’t exceed the stipulated 74°F, and using a squeegee, levelled the foam on top to the desired depth of three and three quarter inches. He then announced to Sir Henry, “You bath is ready sir, prepared precisely to your specifications, I shall now return to the kitchen and finish preparing your breakfast after which I shall take my leave.” Sir Henry thanked Waddle and entered the vast bathroom, removing his scarlett red satin dressing gown and paisley patterned pyjamas (souvenirs from his days with the British Raj). As he entered the bath and commenced lowering himself into the temperature perfect water, his corpulent buttocks parting the jasmine scented bubbles, Sir Henry had a sudden urge to pass a copious amount of wind, and as his buttocks came in contact with the water, he let fly with the most enormous fart, a fart that continued as he submerged its source to the point where it came in contact with the bottom of the bath. Maybe half a minute had passed when all of a sudden, Waddle burst into the bathroom, a hot-water bottle clasped tightly in his hand, breathing heavily from the effort. Sir Henry, startled by this sudden, unexpected intrusion, blurted out, “Waddle! What in god’s name are you doing, bursting in here uninvited, with a hot-water bottle in your hand?? I thought I’d told you to take the rest of the morning off!”. Waddle, looking somewhat bemused, rather sheepishly muttered, “But sir, I distinctly heard you call out, “What about a water bottle Waddle”, and so here I am.” boom boom!

But hey, at least we got to take delivery. Meanwhile, we outlay billions on subs we’ll probably only take delivery of after they are well and truly redundant, while Trump Class (an oxymoron if ever there was one) battleships are scouring the Gulf of (cough) America, in search of Venezuelans on belly boards after failing to find Greenland.

A joke that I’ve probably told on here before (I don’t have many), but what the hell, I’ll do it again, followed by a Christmas/Easter themed video.. First, the joke: A chap is out walking his dog and is waiting for the traffic lights to change, so they can safely cross. There is another gentleman standing next to them, also waiting to cross, and he couldn’t help but notice the first chap’s dog was sitting there calmly and enthusiastically licking his nether regions. To break the ice and to stave off boredom, the gentleman says to the chap with the dog, “Wouldn’t it be great to be able to do that!”, to which the chap with the dog replies, “Well, if you pat him first, he just might let you!”. And now for the video:

Almost as bad as GWS hijacking the Gatorade colours and motif.