Of all the stories I have ever been told, this one was the most absolutely unexpected

I'm really not sure whether I can do this story justice, but I really, really have to give it a go.

We start with the happy news that my parents are back from their latest six week trip to the home of country music, and a reminder than any state that voted for McCain by a fairly large margin must be a little bit nuts. Just how nuts could they be? Let me tell you.

Whilst they were over in crazy-land, a friend invited my parents to go to a show at one of the local universities. The show was put on by a group called the National Theatre Company which turned out to be pretty much just 4 guys from New York and possibly a not insignificant stash of dried herbs.

The show was a re-enactment of a curious period in Southern history when someone apparently decided that Sunday School teachers in rural areas needed to be entertained. The idea, I am told, was to put on a travelling show to help such folks learn about some more liberal type ideas and expose then to the sort of literature and cultural type stuff that is not readily available when you live within shouting distance of Dollywood and popular local music inevitably begins with the phrase "Pardon me boys..."

This notion, whilst a little patronising, was not, in itself, completely insane.

At first.

The problem was that, after a while, competition from vaudeville and Charlie Chaplin movies and the like was affecting attendance levels, so the shows had to become more and more entertainment based, and eventually even a little bohemian, to keep attracting the crowds. And it was this historical development that was re-enacted for the entertainment of my unsuspecting parents.

I sat, awestruck, in my parents' kitchen as they described the show. First, jugglers appeared with clubs and acrobats entertained with flipping. There may have been fire eating. There was certainly one dude swallowing a sword. My mother believed this was some sort of illusion until she found out later than this guy was the president of the American Sword Swallowing Association*

My parents thought the whole eating of metal thing was going a bit far. But the best was yet to arrive.

Next, a man walked onto the stage and started removing his clothing. It did not occur to my parents for a second that he would do anything other than stop this activity at some suitably tasteful moment.


No.


And here's where it gets a little bit strange.


Just as underwear was being removed, another member of the cast came running out with a piece of cardboard and placed it in front of the area recently vacated by said underwear.

Then he got out a texta.

And drew a picture of a genital on the cardboard.


Still not done, the carboard was then exchanged for a guitar, and the naked guy played four verses of a folk song before inching off the stage sideways, guitar still strategically placed in front of him and dragging his pants off the stage with one foot.



It is a while since I have laughed this hard.




For my mother went and saw a stripper.


My saintly Anglican mother, went and saw a stripper.


My saintly Anglican mother who walked out of "Pretty Woman" within the first 20 minutes due to the adult themes, went and saw a stripper.


With her husband.


Best of all, she told me about it. And thought it was hilarious.


I am, as ever, in awe of my parents.









* or some similarly titled group. Now that I think about it, there isprobably not a group called the A.S.S. Association.**



** If there is, I should probably refrain from mocking anyone tough enough to eat a sword

Weihnachtliche Milchschokolade mit Gewurzen und Orangenol

Well it's been a very pleasant few days, thanks to a visit from my sister in law, her husband, and my two beautiful nephews.

One of the many unexpected pleasures of the visit was the discovery that my in-laws are obsessed with playing Carcassonne, an intriguing little German boardgame which I must buy soon.

Another was watching Honey Bear make her sister laugh so hard that English Breakfast Tea nearly came out her nose, but back to the board game.

Not only is it fun to play but, being of germanic origin, it was the perfect excuse to finally open the Schokomod'l that had been sitting in my cupboard and freaking me out at night ever since our neighbours gave it to us last Christmas.

This leads me to comment on the curious fact that, when I googled Schokomod'l in preparation for writing this post, I could only find one reference to it anywhere on the entire web.

And it's here. Yes, my little blog is the only place on the internet to go for information on schokomod'ls. I knew if I searched hard enough, soon or later I would find my niche.

In view of the very weighty responsibilities that come with being the leading world expert on freaky Austrian Christmas snacks, let me tell you more about this exotic and artistic treat. Even though my research is, of necessity, confined to what I can read off the back of the box.

Salzburger Schokomod'ls are made using the original molds from the Peter Nagy chandlery in Salzburg. The box optimistically describes its contents as "a feast for the eyes" even though a brief glance at the freaky little eyes and calmly homicidal facial expression of the chocolate figurine could provide a month's worth of nightmares for an entire unit of SAS troops. Seriously, this thing looks like it should be coming to life and trying to kill Buffy. Or spending the early 70s stalking Jon Pertwee.

Once you close your eyes and take a bite, you will discover that chocolate infused with orange oil, cinnamon, ginger, cloves and cardamom tastes, well, about as good as you might expect.

This 'exceptional chocolate specialty' (yes, the box again) is only made at Christmas time and is available from, well, my neighbours' house. And thus is my knowledge of schokomod'ls exhausted.


All suggestions as to what I should give my neighbours for Christmas this year will be received with enormous gratitude.

Look! Over there!

All having gone stupid around these parts, I cannot imagine writing anything good about the week I'm having. In my current mood, I would end up SCREAMING THE ENTIRE POST IN CAPITALS and that gets tedious after a minute or two.

Instead, I recommend the possibly entertaining little story that I posted over here, just for you.

Have a great week. I'll be back, you know, whenever.

In an un-gardened moment

Just a few of the things I was thinking about whilst gardening today:

• If Barack Obama loses, it will be because everything thinks he will win and no one bothers to vote for him. If the USA is so concerned about voter turnout, would the first step in sorting this out possibly be to move the election to a damn weekend?

• Who was it who first came up with the term "booby trap" and did they realise just how funny people would find that in the future?

• If I am ever asked to construct an ad campaign for a speed dating service, I will find it very difficult not to use the slogan "Wine me, dine me, ill-define me"

• Thanks to this excellent post, a whole bunch of stuff about ethnicity and identity that can now be found in the comments section of aforementioned excellent post.

• Is it possible that the producers of "I kissed a girl" might have made even more money if they had found a singer who did not try to convince us that she "liked it" even though she sounded like someone had stuck her foot in a bear trap and refused to remove it until she got the words right?

• There is absolutely no excuse for Lilydale Topping. Unless someone is planning to eat Lilydale, stop making it.

I guess this is throwing up

There were a few good things about yesterday's sudden and offensively spectacular attack of food poisoning.

For example, it's years since I've even thought of Sleeper's Sale of the Century, which must be the most underappreciated song in the history of britpop. So, it was not at all bad to have the bit where Louise Wener sings "It's been too long, so it can't just be something we ate" stuck in my head for a few hours.

Also, I'm all for new experiences, and throwing up so hard that 20 minutes later I was still blowing food out of my nose certainly fell into that category.

More importantly, since I wasn't going to do much except sit around the house all day until the tendency to hurl at short notice abated, I had plenty of time to indulge my inner politics junky by looking up every electoral map I could possibly find and then clicking on each state to see the latest polls, just to make sure all the areas marked 'leaning Obama' still were.

It turns out that every poll ever taken shows that Barack Obama is absolutely going to win this thing. This includes a poll of 11 Peruvian shaman, which Obama won 9-2. Actually, I struggle to believe that this poll was ever actually taken, and I'm pretty sure someone in Peru is having a little bit of fun with the Associated Press. Still, it's nice to have the spare time to find out how they would react to this poll in South Dakota. And, indeed, how it was reported in Turkey.

As far as I am concerned, the two shaman who are backing John McCain should be fired immediately.

As a side note, people who remain obsessed with the Bradley Effect are yet to explain why they think anyone anywhere would lie to a pollster they have never met and never will just on the off chance that said pollster might jump to the conclusion that the voter in question is a howling mental racist rather than, say, someone who just happens to be voting for the other candidate.

Also,the same people who are currently obsessing about this may have noticed that there was o sign of this alleged Effect during the Primaries despite the rather obvious fact that Hillary Clinton is, quite openly, white.

Look, everyone just needs to stop worrying. Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States. And Sarah Palin will not run against him in 2012 because, although she hasn't realised it yet, CBS news actually keep their recordings of interviews for more than four years.

We just have to trust in the good judgment and common sense of the American people. And, really, how could one do anything else when faced with headlines like Naked Halloween Pumpkinhead Arrested.

Yes, finally, a news story that combines my twin passions of streaking and pumpkins.

I could probably have got past the fact that a bunch of people ran around naked with pumpkins on their heads. I could even have got over the revelation that this is an actual organised event which has been running for the past ten years.

What I can't quite cope with is the part where Boulder police Chief Mark Beckner said police officers "wanted to do something before (the event) got out of hand".

He's right. 10 years of naked people running around with pumpkins on their heads is tolerable, but allowing it to go on for 11 years is just plain nuts.

So, in conclusion, the future of the world's largest democracy is clearly in good hands.