T: Hey mum, I'm home, I got a haircut like you told me to. B: Hey Darl, I thought you were going to Damo's? Come up stairs and show me your new doo. T: I did go to Damo's, his sister cut it for me, She could open up her own shop. B: Damo's sister's twelve, she must be a savant, now come up stairs and show me your new mop. T: M'kay, I hope you like it cos I'm diggin the shit out of it. B: OI! Language! Only mothers are allowed to say shit. T: I'm right behind you now you can stop bleaching the bath. B: HOLY FUCKING CHRIST! Why'd you go and do something so daft?! T: It's not that daft really… Its just a haircut Its just my very first mullet! And I'm feeling good. Ain't that what it's all about madre? B: Mate, its not the 80s… Thats not fashion, its suicide. T: It can't be that bad, what if I get it dyed? B: Someones gonna die in a minute, You're making my heart palpitate. T: Y'know I'm no good with big words I'm the first kid to get a negative reading age in this state. B: Yeah, and zygotes are probably better decision makers than you. T: Hey now, goats don't make decisions otherwise they wouldn't end up glue. B: Thats horses mate, but anyway what provoked you into such sin? T: I thought the mullet was the epitome of hairstyle practically. I imagined the top of my head would be so much cooler but I could still feel the back blowing in the wind. B: Darl, thats not reason enough to get a mullet! Now tell me why you got that abomination of a thing… T: Mum, I'm in love with a man. A man with a mullet. And you always told me there's nothing wrong with loving someone. He brings me comfort when I dream He's Al Montfort He's more than he seems. B: He brings you comfort? T: Yeah, when I dream. B: Well who the fuck is Al Montfort? T: He's more than he seems. He makes me cream.

Tommo's in the back with the ambo's and his dad watching in horror as some fibrillation causes a stir. His hand is squeezed to some odd shade of magenta, maybe fuchsia. Time is passing slow, but in retrospect will be a blur… All except some words heard murmured through a cancerous throat, and tongue, and lungs, his pop was riddled with tumours. And these last words stick will with Tommo like well cooked spag to a wall. They give his life new purpose, the words his dad whispered as if a rumour: 'Don't ever buy kitchenware again.' And his dad's last exhale rolls over him like a fog or a blanket cross-weaved with threads of guilt and shame as Tommo had purchased some new bowls earlier that day for the new house he paid off with an insurance claim. He rushes home, sprinting through traffic and back streets. He gets their and smashes his porcelain receptacles. His new home is now left with zero kitchenware as he walks over to some boxes and adjusts his spectacles. In thick black sharpie, he reads off their names: Action figures, awards, linen, DVDs but when he spies 'photo albums', he unpacks the memories within laughing at his youth and getting tears on the sleeves. Again and again are photos of Tommo, playing some sport with his dad egging him on. Yumm.. eggs, Tommo realises he's hungry but he has no way of fixing dinner unless he orders on the phone. And then something clicks as Tommo verbalises his epiphany 'Either Dad was a little high on pain meds, or he wanted me to become a professional sportsmen!' Now, that may sound absurd to your average layman, but Tommo was never one to lay down. He reckoned sports competitions are all about winning kitchenware Cups, plates, kitsch cutlery, now he was glory bound. He starts with soccer, but it just ain't kicking, He tries league and wins a wooden spoon, He tries netball, but gender rolls get the better of him, He tries cricket, starts hitting balls to the moon. But why stick with that sport when it seems the ashes is its most important prize? And what sort of kitchenware is an urn of such diminutive size. With his cool coordination and sweet swing he reckons he's left with two things. Tennis or golf... Oh, how white and bourgeois an ultimatum can make you feel. TOMMO PLAYS TENNIS! Love, love 15, love 30, love 40, love Game, Set, Match And some Brand New Kitchenware Tommo's winning tournaments; left, right and centre He goes professional within 3 weeks. 11 months pass and his world rank is number 1, and his tennis groupies hang off every word he speaks. He's closing every Open with a well-off win, not having one measly point against him drawn up. Until the only thing that he hasn't secured is the Norman Brookes Challenge Cup. And the world is in the palm of his hand, and the palm of his hand is soaked in sweat, he's nervous that he'll choke in the finals at home, so he distracts himself with all the tennis groupies that he can get. Tommo was receiving multitudes of free Love, love 15, love 30, love 40, love Gingers, blondies, brunettes but don't forget the brand new kitchenware of course. Tommo's world turns upside down and inside out when he learns the news of a groupie bearing his child He is frightened at first, but he falls in love with the way his month old daughter smiles. He throws his knee out on a clay court his physio says he'll be out for a year, his health, both physical and mental decline, He spends half his days with his eyes clouded in tears. Until he ends up in the back of an emergency vehicle with his daughter staring him in the face. Oh what a peculiar and familiar situation but Tommo handles it with grace: He turns away from the light saying, 'Sorry Jesus, I gotta win one more cup.' So Tommo trains back up and he enters the highly prestigious Australian open. And he makes it to the final, This time without all the groupie gropin'. And tonights the night he can wrap up his career, he's eating a celebratory dinner with his fam'. And the table is set with his accolades as he lifts his Alfredo DuFrampe fork in his hand. And wrapped around the fork is spaghetti and meat which he shoves in his mouth at a tremendous speed and he begins choking, and then his body goes limp, and he dies face down in his brand new kitchenware.

Melbourne I love ya but I don't think I can stay too long When I went into a St Kilda bar on a rainy summer's day I didn't know what I was in for And all I ever wanted was a Carlton, a coaster and a table by the window When I handed over my $6 I didn't get my money's worth When I travel interstate I always know the train tracks will be kinda straight But Sir Henry why didn't you make sure my beer will be alright It wasn't till later in Footscray that I realised what was going on I walked up to the bar at the Dog and all I said was 'A Carlton, thanks' The bar tender he looked at me and said 'A pot or a pint mate what'll it be?' a pint would do once in a while but it's a schooner for me When I travel interstate I always know the train tracks will be kinda straight But Sir Henry why didn't you make sure my beer will be alright Now that I'm back home in NSW I guess it shouldn't make a difference But it only made me see the true depth of the state divide If i get handed the wrong change up here I won't pay it any of my mind It's just nice to know my beer will be the right size

The Helmholtz coil, in conjunction with an electromagnet, steers some electron beams towards a fluorescent screen: phosphor coated, so the electrons transfer to visible light, cos how can we marvel at a CRT TV if its purpose can't be seen? Receiving orders concerning voltage control determining how much red, green, or blue light will suffice to create any colour in our spectrum. Every second theres 15750 lines that it writes. Or something, thats all I remember son. You shoulda took PE cos Physics is dumb. Anyway, bugger off, the footy's nearly on. Grab me two Tooheys, and watch them become none like the beers are an electron, and my guts a positron … you've got me thinking all weird now, now go to your room. Oh, its the pre-match talk such interesting statistics highly pertinent to my enjoyment of this man on man, flesh on flesh, head to head clash, brains rattling inside skulls branch of entertainment in which every time a point is scored or a scrum is packed the broadcasters cut to commercial to get their pay. So I'm really hoping this time around no one scores any tries and no one fucking knocks on… cos I'm sick of these ads, man beer advert after beer advert maybe it was funny the first time around but by the 50th time its really getting on my nerves... You understand me right? Its like, you change the channe cos you wanna get away from it but there it is again, staring you in the face… what the hell is going on here? I've already got my choice of beer, what else could you possibly want from me man? You keep showing me the same shit over and over again I feel like my life is on repeat overtime I sit in my seat infront of my tv set and I stoop into regret I feel like throwing the tv against the wall.. It wouldn't be the first time I have episodes thats all I'll just have another drink Calm my nerves I fucking hate tv. I don't mind if it hates me. I can't help myself I'm gonna lift you up from your pretty little cabinet and smash you to little pieces. Oh… shit. I probably shouldn't have done that there goes a few weeks pay down the shitter… well always keep on the bright side of thin I guess. HEY SON! Come downstairs now you can see the inside of a CRT TV and figure it out for yourself cos I'm sick of explaining shit to you.

-badly executed dialogue-

Haven't you heard? Australia's full. But why stop the boats when theres people we pull closer to our culture when they never asked us to? We've been calling impostors Aussies, some of you lot wouldn't have a clue... DISOWN Russel Crowe, well known felon Once charged with fourth degree possession of a weapon: A telephone. And he bought our precious bunnies, with his dirty money. Give them back and then go home. DISOWN The Finn Brothers, Our houses are too crowded, I think its time for your stay to end. It's time for us to split DISOWN Phar Lap, your bones are so lonely in some Wellington Museum. We still have the poor fella's heart. Send the rest of him home so that people that care can seem. DISOWN And even you Mr Hollows? You kept us in the blind… DISOWN Really Dragon? We confided in you... When you were asking us how old we were, We shoulda been asking you where the fuck you were from! DISOWN Sam Neil you're a jurassic embarrassment. Stop pressuring vegans into eating red meat. Why don't you have nibble and slurp on my red meat? DISOWN Keith Urban Why are you playing the music of Rural Australia and tainting it with pop sensibilities? Go do that somewhere else and leave us with your kid, man. DISOWN

Come on now baby, sit on my face. I wanna be like the drip tray on a George Foreman grill. Calm down honey let me grip your grundle, and I'll twirl your cock round like a hills-hoist in Swan Hill. We're in this til' the end I wanna be your frenulum friend. And if we finish, we'll go again; lets be best frenulum friends, forever. Listen up pumpkin, I've loved ya since I felched ya I'm gonna trace your areola with my 3 inch sharp shooter. Bring it on darl, I'll keep my eyes on the freeway, when we stop, revive, survive, we'll eat out in Red Rooster. Let's eat out at Red Rooster. We're in this til' the end I wanna be your frenulum friend. And if we finish, we'll go again; lets be best frenulum friends, forever. BFFF, when we got no going left we can just cuddle, in the warmth of our clefts.

Soda popped a boner. Sometimes soft drinks are hard.