Brain graze



Magic's latest tips just arrived. In addition to the aforementioned Green Pick he advises a consideration on NATCH (Race 5, No.2) each-way and FRAAR'S TURN (Race 8, No.2) to win. Happy wagering customers.

Off to an exclusive event today. Our suburb's cultural commissar Daryl Craven has organised for the Thursday night regulars at Geelong West's Petrel Hotel to attend the critical football clash today between The Hammerheads and The Gladstone Park whatevers. For those outside Victoria, the Hammerheads are the motley combine that feature in Seven Network's The Club. This is yet another reality TV show. It is set around a minor league, western suburbs footy club. So with Eskies iced, mullets groomed and form guides pencilled, we're off to the footy. If anyone comes across Tim Blair in Melbourne, order him to get that bitchin' Monaro out to the South Kensington footy ground. His vehicle will be showered with admiration.


Magic Mick Manley's sure thing of the day in the Herald Sun is the winner he gave us a fortnight back, Green Pick. It's top weight in race 2 today at Sandown. Magic says it's been one of the finds of the winter. "Only tasted defeat once in five runs this time in and that was in a photo.'' Not much in the way of odds, but any price a winner. I've trawled through the possibles to come up with Blue Wina in the 6th at Sandown. Is stepping up in class but has been in the money and will carry a feather with Matt Pumpa's 3kg claim.



Trout of order
THE SUN reports that a trout grabbed a £5 note from a young girl’s hand — and ATE it.
The youngster was holding the fiver beside a stream at Windermere aquarium in the Lake District, when the fish pounced.
Curator Jonathan Turner said: “We warn fish may bite but this is our first mugging.” Staff had a whip-round.

KO'd by a fish
AN angler was badly hurt after a 5ft sturgeon he hooked leapt from the water and slammed into his chest.

Brian Clemens, 38, was knocked off balance and lost control of his motor boat which crashed into a river bank in Panama City, Florida. He suffered a broken sternum and collapsed lung. The fish got away.


Oh dear, more media luvvies getting the vapors over racism in footy. 3AW has been running reports that Essendon coach Kevin Sheedy has angered sections of the Aboriginal industry by adorning himself in paint and dancing coroborree-style at a tribute function to great Aboriginal player and leader Michael Long. Apparently, Long went along with the fun as did fellow indigenous player Dean Rioli. Anyone with half a brain would know that Sheedy hasn't a racist bone in his body and that Long has a terrific line in self-deprecation.
If this act, performed with genuine affection, I've no doubt, is such a news sensation, what then of the cultural offensiveness of paraders in the Gay Mardi Gras mocking Catholic clergy? (Ding, ding, hypocrisy alert!).
When Neil Mitchell put it to ATSIC commissioner Jenny Prior that Sheedy's gesture couldn't have been that offensive if Long and Rioli were OK with it, she branded them ''assimilationist''.
This is pretty rich coming from someone paid generously from the commonwealth's coffers to serve on a commission which functions along lines drawn from the Westminster tradition.
Surely, anyone who is not out hunting and gathering as their ancestors did 20,000 years ago is an assimilationist of sorts?



Why is it that in Australia we wait until our real heroes are dead or dying before we observe their greatness and what they endured so we could have such fortunate lives?
Gallipoli gets bigger every year while the original diggers fade away. Our WW2 veterans are now in their late 70s and 80s and hopefully observations later this year of the 1942 Battle for Australia will boost awareness of those heroes and the suffering of their comrades in arms who were taken prisoner.
This suffering spawned intense life-long hatred for anything Japanese in many POWs, something that would give the vapors to today’s politically correct. This poem presents images that justify that hatred. And from what I know, all the apologies in the world would change nothing for many.

Today’s AnniVersaries poem by Timoshenko Aslanidis.
(Published by Brandl & Schlesinger Pty Ltd
PO Box 276 Rose Bay NSW 2029 Australia

Saturday 7 August 1943


Repeated but not repeatable: call it a work-song,
the rhythmic repetition of what might be done
to a certain Japanese guard while they hauled at rope and ram
and let it drop to pile, then hauled again.
The monsoon, that seasonal geometry of water
that rushed to meet itself at right angles, resumed,
relentlessly rotting clothes and boots and tropical ulcers,
listing the life that daily sank around them:
the bowels dissolved to dysentery, the run to mud;
the suppurating wounds, the savage beatings;
the callous starvation, the cholera, the berri-berri;
the corpses stacked like logs, awaiting cremation;
the bubbling flesh, the writhing limbs, the rats and flies:
the rail for the ‘Greater Co-Prosperity Sphere’.
Boles arced from earth to canopy and the clouds of steam
that rose in relief from the river when downpour stopped.
Orchids, flagrant with beauty, nestled among the ferns
and tigers burned the campsite with their eyes.


Hundreds of Indian worshippers are bringing offerings of alcohol and cigarettes to Capt. F. Wale in an abandoned garden at Moosa Bagh in Lucknow. Only trouble is the good captain has been dead for 145 years.
The always informative Nury Vittachi in THE FAR EASTERN ECONOMIC REVIEW reveals that Wale, who was killed in action in the Indian Mutiny of 1857, was elevated to divine status following a recent graveside visit by family members of a man on trial for a serious crime.
When the man was acquitted, word got around that the gora bhagwan (white god) was a sort of patron saint of lost causes.
Since then, there has been a growing number of visitors, all of whom have difficult problems to solve. There are barren women wanting to get pregnant, villains wanting to escape prison sentences and men with sexual problems. Some of the requests are not as noble or serious as others. One man offered beer at the grave because he wanted to have sex with his neighbour.


A politically correct police chief in North Wales has outraged his officers by demanding they be nice to each other.
THE SUN reports that Richard Brunstrom sent out information packs telling cops they cannot give each other nicknames, play practical jokes or make “hurtful” comments.
But one civilian police worker said: “We’re not five-year-olds in school. Do grown men and women really need instructions on how to get on together?
“You can’t find a bobby on the street, yet money is frittered away like this, treating us like children. We’ve managed for years by using our common sense, but I suppose this ‘diversity’ culture keeps someone employed.”
Officers are also being sent for diversity training to listen to talks from transsexuals, Muslims and a Welsh speaker to understand their lifestyles.
The 'Be Nice' strategy has had zilch effect on real police business in Brunstrom's bailiwick.
Violent crime rose 36 per cent in North Wales in the past year — while detection rates for violent offences fell from 82 to 64 per cent.



Canadian know-it-all Leah McLaren asked for trouble when she bagged Pom blokes for not being crash-hot with the dames, preferring grog and other blokes to canoodling with the fairer sex.
Old Dart males are firing back furiously and conforming beautifully to eccentric house style in the Telegraph's letters section.

Viz: Take that, ill-educated colonial hoyden!
The idea of a Canadian "arts correspondent" ("Why won't Englishmen seduce me?", Review, July 28) is about as convincing as an Inuit snake charmer. So the English invented courtly love, did they? And I suppose the Canadians invented ballet. Try looking up "troubadour" in the OED, old girl.

No wonder the unfortunate English males whom Miss McLaren singularly failed to seduce had to anaesthetise themselves with cocaine and alcohol when in her company. What sensible Englishman wouldn't do the same if cornered by this ill-educated, colonial hoyden?

Brian Bone, Sunbury-on-Thames, Middlesex


Pantyhose fetish shows in the Big Apple and hooker shots on the Californian golf course. You can't say we don't bring you culture. Check it out at Justice William Bedsworth's place.

Unctuous nawab Malcolm Fraser can be guaranteed to deliver his opinion -- usually unrequested -- on many matters: refugees, and reconciliation are particular hobby horses. But one subject old Easter Island Statue is silent on is the murderous racism taking place in Mugabe's Zimbabwe. When he was Prime Minister of Australia -- before Bob Hawke's ascension sent him blubbering into obscurity -- Fraser championed Mugabe relentlessly, despite the African's earlier connections to the homicidal Mau Mau. Now, as the NEW YORK TIMES reports, Mugabe is at the zenith of his oppressive, corrupt reign. And still Fraser is silent. But don't worry, it won't be long before he's asccusing Australia of racism and brutality.
Don't you love the smell of hypocrisy in the morning?

That dishevelled sack of wombat farts, Bob Ellis, has tried to make a noble hero of himself by sneaking into the Woomera Dentention Centre to interview illegals. Not that the poor buggers got to say much. In his piece published in the CANBERRA TIMES
old Faeces Face is too busy giving his demented take on the place to actually report much of what is said to him. But he does reveal how he got in there and hopefully that will get him and his editors into a spot of strife:

What I did was show up with some lawyers, claim to be Robert Ellis, of Palm Beach, NSW (which I am), wear glasses, present my driver's licence, put a tape recorder which could have been a bomb in my inside jacket pocket, and the nice young official admitted me and I spent a day there.

Heamorrhoid Head also told Neil Mitchell on 3AW last week that he posed as a paralegal to enter the facility. Now Scabrous Cranium should know that if lefty journos revere anything it's the AJA Code of Ethics, in particular to wit:

8. Use fair, responsible and honest means to obtain material. Identify yourself and your employer before obtaining any interview for publication or broadcast. Never exploit a person’s vulnerability or ignorance of media practice.

I pointed out Dandruff Brain's contravention of the code to the Canberra Times which has not replied. Readers, feel free to add weight to my effort.



Is he hot or not, our equine estimater Magic Mick Manley?
We've plonked $20 of the hard-earned on Rubitano, as advised, for a narrow profit -- again as advised -- of $8. Hey, it's still a better return than you'll get at any bank without a pistol and balaclava. Sticking with Magic's counsel, we invested $10 each way on Crimson Gem for a gain of $65. We dropped $5 each way on It's Platonic in the last but ended the day $63 the richer. At this rate we'll be in Vegas for Christmas.