Fuckwit spits out well.
Fuckwit seems universally beloved. An elderly Australian a few years back was describing how, as an adolescent in a small NSW town during WW2, he was made a fire warden. This involved patrolling the town while wearing a helmet emblazoned with the letters FW. Everyone, including the most straight-laced citizens, seemed mightily amused by this. As long as he smiled and waved right back the joke never seemed to get old.
"A tune was being played, sparing of melodic invention, free too of any marked variation in volume, rhythm, harmony, expression, tempo, or tone-colour, and, more or less in time with it, groups of dancers were wheeling, plunging, and gesticulating while the ogre, more aphasic than before, mumbled at full strength:
'Ya parp the Hawky-Cawky arnd ya tarn parp-parp, Parp what it's parp parp-parp.'"
Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim, 1954
Isambard Kingdom Brunel connection.
Kate Beaton's Brunel.
Tony Abbott is mourned in Australia...will be missed by the country’s wordsmiths.
Wordsmurfs, more like it. Going by their mealy-mouthed collection of bland "Australianisms", that lot couldn't get a soapy stick up a dog's bum.
I understand that London's Victorian underground railway has resulted in a sometimes fatal disease now known as Tube-berk-closeness...
...not to be confused with brucellosis, encountered mainly around Earl's Court?
Mike Yardley (Chchch's own Mike Hosking clone) weighs in with a highly emotive and ham-fisted rant against legalisation...
Yardley generally manages to sing from the same hymnal as the Herald's John Roughan. A while back their opinion pieces - talking up e-cigarettes, spruiking offshore oil exploration - appeared so tightly synched that you could've been forgiven for assuming that the same folks had been shouting them lunch at the same places.
Korako's example seems ill-thought out.
Claire Trevett's apparent fuzziness with detail can't be helping. For example, how did Cosgrove manage a "ministerial trip" in 2010 when he'd been an opposition MP since 2008?
I recall the first time I actually got to go inside and behold William's vast basement record library ...
From the infectious ease of his writing you never feel daunted by William Dart's expertise. Ever since encountering his work in Rip It Up back in the late 70s I've loved the way he makes what he writes about seem like a shared discovery. As a side note to Peter Alsop's superb work on NZ photo history I found this worth revisiting:
...this grandchildren's lives.
Because shapeshifting reptilians have multiple lives, like cats? For those who follow the signs, the truth occasionally oozes through.