No need for Swearing

There is no real need for swearing. But it can be fun. It can turn those seemingly uneventful experiences into something uncomfortable and memorable for everyone. That friend of yours that you’ve never liked… just use the C-word in front of his family and he’ll never call or pester you again. The right swearword at the right time can finish any relationship.
But you hardly have to say anything to offend an American. Damn is considered bang-out-of-order in many states. They are culturally devoid of good swearwords. When I lived over there someone called me a Freakin’ Goofball. I asked him if that was the best he could do and he called me a Crazy Doofberry. That’s not a swearword, that’s a Boost Juice. You can’t insult someone with a Boost Juice.
But the world’s worst swearers have to be the English middle classes. When they get really angry they use words like nincompoop and poppycock – it’s like Tourette Syndrome in reverse.

Going Underground

The story of the two Tasmanian miners got a bit too much for me this week. News networks were scrambling around trying to get exclusive rights to their "story". How interesting is the story of people trapped in the dark going to be? "Well, I didn't do anything, or see anything, or go anywhere, but I've got a story worth millions." The only thing these two men did was some basic stretching - what a scoop! And if the media are really interested in people being trapped, they should interview the ones in detention centres; I'm sure their stories contain much more emotion and heartache than two blokes waiting for a drill. But of course these detainees are not "Australian" enough to make a good story for the sensationalising networks.
The two miners were said to be "good Australians" for being trapped in a dark cell for two weeks. If that's all it takes to be a good Australian then David Hicks would surely be the most Australian person in the world by now. Except that he's now British.
While trapped, one of the miners requested a McDonalds burger as his first meal for when he was freed. If I were a rescuer, I would have blocked back up the hole and let him die. Of all the things he could have chosen, he opted for that. What a tool! That's like being offered a dream holiday anywhere in the world and choosing to go to Guantanamo Bay with Amanda Vanstone.

Parents are Dull

A lot of my friends are having
babies at the moment and they
have since become the dullest
people in the world.
Every conversation topic leads
to their beautiful baby daughter.
For example:

Russian Revolution → Red Square → Coloured Shapes → Toys → Their Daughter
Iranian Nuclear Energy → Islam → The Koran → Children’s Books → Their Daughter
Mark Butler’s Comedy → Shut Up → Their Daughter

They say “Oh, isn’t she clever because she can say the word papa?” I can do over three hours of stand-up and they never give me biscuits.
They wanted me to hold her, like I’d suddenly be convinced that the kid was a genius. And this kid started to put her snotty little fingers into my mouth, and I didn’t like it so I pulled this funny face and started to spit. I think a woman’s sense of humour must be contained in her breast-milk because the kid was laughing, but the mother was giving me daggers. She said, “Stop being so miserable and let her put her fingers in your mouth. That’s her way of communicating.” I said, “I will come back and visit when your daughter is eighteen, and if she still wants to put her fingers in my mouth I might even reciprocate. I might even put something else in there.” It was a joke. The mother didn’t find it funny. But comedy is just my way of communicating.