It is hard to remember that in 2003 – post 9/11 – we were worried about terrorists. Public rubbish bins were removed or converted to clear plastic bags. We were told to be ALERT BUT NOT ALARMED. But were we? Read on. This article appeared in the Herald Sun (21 Feb 2003) and The Advertiser, SA (23 FEB 2003)
WARNING: If you read this article, you must memorise it, then eat it in the name of national security. I’ve just completed a covert anti-terrorist operation to see if Aussies are being ‘alert but not alarmed’. And I have much to report.
While holidaying by the sea I received a timely tip-off. The kid in the Harry Potter t-shirt told the kid with the Spider Man bodyboard that… Sorry. I can’t disclose this information. It’s top secret. But, suffice to say the words: anti-terrorist, training and ferry were involved. So, for you Dear Reader, I interrupted my holidays to take on this mission. My Brief: Get stories. Time: Ten hundred. Location: Queenscliff. Destination: Sorrento/Portsea. Mode of transport: Ferry. Operation: Sun Factor 30 +.
The word ‘terrorism’ would shock the good citizens of Queenscliff. The only public disturbance in this backwater involved a Cobb & Co coach horse backfiring three years ago. The Sorrento/Portsea side of the bay has a more chequered past. We misplaced a Prime Minister at Portsea. Moreover, some of the cleavages in the area are so well packed; one sneeze and they could explode any minute. So there is cause for concern.
I boarded the ferry cleverly disguised as a middle-aged female tourist in sunhat and sandals and immediately discovered I was no Mata Hari. Firstly, I was not willing to have sex with high-ranking officers from both sides. General Peter Cosgrove is cute in a cardigan-and-slippers way, but not my type. As for the other side, I don’t fancy a man in sheets. I wash enough sheets already. Meanwhile, a friend introduced me to this fit, tanned, young bloke in white t-shirt and sunglasses saying ‘Kerry, this is…… from the Special Operations Branch.’ I can’t tell you his name for the obvious reason that I can’t remember it. I was too excited. Back to spy school for me.
Once the ferry left its moorings the action quickly hotted up. The helicopter disappeared and returned to drop by rope three SAS troops in all-black assault fatigues onto the top deck of the moving ferry. Amazingly, none of us tourists were that surprised. We’ve seen action like this hundreds of times in films and on tellie. It was so familiar we almost expected Piece Brosnan to drop from the helicopter in a tuxedo and Halle Berry to scale the side of the ferry in a white bikini. It was disappointing that she didn’t.
But now I can tell you if Aussies are alert. We are. The first comment I heard was an 8-year-old kid yelling ‘Hey Dad. That’s the terrorist cops chopper. We saw it on a school excursion.’
Of the other 200 odd tourists, I heard comments like this:
‘Should we be looking for Osama Bin Laden in flippers?’
‘That chopper makes a racket.’ ‘Wha?’ ‘The chopper is noisy.’ ‘Wha?’ ‘Oh! Forget it.’
‘Look. There. Navy Seals in a rubber dingy.’ ‘We don’t have Navy Seals. We’re not trained like those yanks. We’d have Navy..um.. Tadpoles’
‘What’s them mens doing , Daddy?’ ‘They’re practising to save people Luke’.
The girls in the ferry canteen were really alert. ‘Oh my god. Those boys are so gorgeous. A man in a uniform does it to me every time’. The girls were contemplating throwing themselves overboard to be saved. But they had second thoughts. Their own crew might turn up to save them.
Are Aussies alarmed? No way. The couple pashing in the lounge for 45 minutes didn’t even notice the SWAT team. Ditto the doughnut king stuffing his face nearby. Meanwhile, the remaining tourists loved the whole shebang. Comments included ‘Don’t worry. Barry here can save us. He’s really secret agent 006 ¾..maybe…004 ½. Come to think of it, you better save yourself’. With cameras and videos blazing, the tourists took pictures of the three anti-terrorist team boardings. SWAT squad photos sure beat holiday snaps of seagulls.
On the return trip I saw three more Special Op teams land. By the last trip the tourists were so excited they started waving. One of the SWAT team waved back. And smiled.
So there it is. We Aussies are alert, but not alarmed. We’re positively cheerful about the whole business. Not only that, we have some cheerful – and simply gorgeous – anti-terrorist troops working on our behalf. This is how it should be. For the day we Aussies start to view every backpacker and every rubbish bin as a possible bomb threat is the day we lose our freedom and the day the terrorists win.
From Charming and Colliding Blog
Ministers of Education have been alarmed in the past to discover Australian High School Students know very little about the history of this country. The following essay by Ashlee M, Year 8, Coolathanu High is believed to be included in some bureaucratic report somewhere.
Australia is a large incontinent which lies in the Specific Ocean except for Tasmania which doesn’t know where it is. Australia is very hot because the Topic of Popracorn is in Queensland somewhere, which means Queenslanders are sweaty and can grow topical plants in their ears. But the most important topic is the topic of Cancer because if youse get sunburnt, Omigod, ya gonna die.
Full Article: Captain Hook and the History of Oz
Kerry Cue article several newspapers 2005. Bzzzz! Ugh! Bzzzz. Thwack! Missed. Damn mozzie!
It happens every Summer. The Aussies Vs The Mozzies Test Match. And the mozzies win because there are zillions of ‘em. There are, in fact, 400 types of mozzie in Oz with names like Aedes Sollicitans. So at least one blood-sucking pest is also a lawyer makes perfect sense. Now each of these 400 mozzies has its own modus operandi. Some buzz around your head. Some go for the ankles. Some go for plump, sporty blokes.
According to Tokyo researcher Dr Yoshikazu Shirai mozzies like Type O blood – marinated in a good wine, slightly aged and warmed in the sun – and, apparently, more blokes have it. If you are a fit, fat, sweaty bloke, now you know why you’re invited to barbecues. You’re the mozzie decoy.
But we all get mozzie bites. It’s the female mozzie doing the damage. And here’s the scary bit. She uses your DNA to make mozzie eggs. 200 to 300 of them. She spreads you around. And there may be little Bazza and Shazza mozzies out there that look a little like you about the blood-shot eyes.
But mozzies aren’t just annoying. They’re nano bio-terrorists. They spread fevers, plagues and mental diseases. This may explain the odd behaviour of Queenslanders at times.
So how do you outsmart mozzies? First, you must understand the mozzie psyche. Unionists, they work mostly at dusk and dawn attracted to smell, sound, carbon dioxide, warmth and light. An evening barbie is like yelling ‘come’n get it!’ to a mozzie.
Aussies use many concoctions and contraptions from coils to sprays to zappers to get rid of mozzies. But do any of these devices work?
I can tell you. For we Aussies have a secret weapon, the Australian Mosquito Control Manual (2004) written by Darwin Medical Entomologist Peter Whelan. And here’s the low down. Anti-mozzie devices from citronella candles to zappers only work in confined spaces. That’s inside, mate. Any device that lures mozzies is useless because the kamikaze mozzies simply snack on you midway through their death dive. Sonic-repellent gizmos don’t work. Mozzies like others with brains the size of a pinhead enjoy one-note techno music.
Ritual flame torches help. Mozzies aren’t attracted to yellow light. But if you don’t want your backyard to look like a fake tribal set from ‘Survivor’, just use yellow globes. Shrubs don’t help. Maybe you can squash the leaves and rub them on the skin. Or better still just grab some tea tree branches and thrash your guests. It mightn’t deter the mozzies, but it would scare off the neighbours!
Wind is good. Mozzies can’t fly in the wind. So the perfect time for a mozzie-free barbecue is just when the plates are flying off the table in gale-force winds. Sprays and gels work. But Aerogard is not enough. It keeps off flies. You need the big guns for mozzies. Tropical Strength Aerogard. Rid. Bushmans. Muskol. Repel. Use them all!
Now you’re on holiday. Camping. In come swarms of mozzies. It’s an emergency. What do you do? You open your Australian Mosquito Control Manual and read on. Peter Whelan suggests to avoid mozzies in an emergency you cover yourself in mud, camp downwind near stock (They’re cows, city folk.), burn dung (Well, you’re near cows!) and if necessary bury yourself to the neck in sand and cover your head, which sounds like a fun camping trip for all the family.
And one other thing. If all else fails. Run. Like the wind, I guess.
Parody was allowed as a ‘fair dealing’ exception in the Copyright Amendment Act in Australia in 2006.
AI isn’t necessarily good. You have to ask it the right Question. When I was asked to write something on a Futuristic Theme I used CHAT GPT. Was it fair use? You decide.
Here is AI’s response to the request:
The robot kangaroo is AI generated too.
Yarra River, 2023
Kerry Cue article several newspapers 2005. Bzzzz! Ugh! Bzzzz. Thwack! Missed. Damn mozzie!
It happens every Summer. The Aussies Vs The Mozzies Test Match. And the mozzies win because there are zillions of ‘em. There are, in fact, 400 types of mozzie in Oz with names like Aedes Sollicitans. So at least one blood-sucking pest is also a lawyer makes perfect sense. Now each of these 400 mozzies has its own modus operandi. Some buzz around your head. Some go for the ankles. Some go for plump, sporty blokes.
According to Tokyo researcher Dr Yoshikazu Shirai mozzies like Type O blood – marinated in a good wine, slightly aged and warmed in the sun – and, apparently, more blokes have it. If you are a fit, fat, sweaty bloke, now you know why you’re invited to barbecues. You’re the mozzie decoy.
But we all get mozzie bites. It’s the female mozzie doing the damage. And here’s the scary bit. She uses your DNA to make mozzie eggs. 200 to 300 of them. She spreads you around. And there may be little Bazza and Shazza mozzies out there that look a little like you about the blood-shot eyes.
But mozzies aren’t just annoying. They’re nano bio-terrorists. They spread fevers, plagues and mental diseases. This may explain the odd behaviour of Queenslanders at times.
So how do you outsmart mozzies? First, you must understand the mozzie psyche. Unionists, they work mostly at dusk and dawn attracted to smell, sound, carbon dioxide, warmth and light. An evening barbie is like yelling ‘come’n get it!’ to a mozzie.
Aussies use many concoctions and contraptions from coils to sprays to zappers to get rid of mozzies. But do any of these devices work?
I can tell you. For we Aussies have a secret weapon, the Australian Mosquito Control Manual (2004) written by Darwin Medical Entomologist Peter Whelan. And here’s the low down. Anti-mozzie devices from citronella candles to zappers only work in confined spaces. That’s inside, mate. Any device that lures mozzies is useless because the kamikaze mozzies simply snack on you midway through their death dive. Sonic-repellent gizmos don’t work. Mozzies like others with brains the size of a pinhead enjoy one-note techno music.
Ritual flame torches help. Mozzies aren’t attracted to yellow light. But if you don’t want your backyard to look like a fake tribal set from ‘Survivor’, just use yellow globes. Shrubs don’t help. Maybe you can squash the leaves and rub them on the skin. Or better still just grab some tea tree branches and thrash your guests. It mightn’t deter the mozzies, but it would scare off the neighbours!
Wind is good. Mozzies can’t fly in the wind. So the perfect time for a mozzie-free barbecue is just when the plates are flying off the table in gale-force winds. Sprays and gels work. But Aerogard is not enough. It keeps off flies. You need the big guns for mozzies. Tropical Strength Aerogard. Rid. Bushmans. Muskol. Repel. Use them all!
Now you’re on holiday. Camping. In come swarms of mozzies. It’s an emergency. What do you do? You open your Australian Mosquito Control Manual and read on. Peter Whelan suggests to avoid mozzies in an emergency you cover yourself in mud, camp downwind near stock (They’re cows, city folk.), burn dung (Well, you’re near cows!) and if necessary bury yourself to the neck in sand and cover your head, which sounds like a fun camping trip for all the family.
And one other thing. If all else fails. Run. Like the wind, I guess.
Edited extract of an article I wrote for The Canberra Times, March 2013
It’d be St Paddy’s Day soon and not just in Oiland. All over, like. Oi’ll be turnin’ meself into a cliché to get in ehead of the rest of yiz. You can drop the accent now. Keep it for Thursday 17th March, 2022. But why do the Irish celebrate St Patrick’s Day globally by channelling Leprechauns, talking blarney, swilling green beer and slurring ‘When Irish eyes are smiling … da da dada’ because no-one can remember the lyrics? Happy St Clichés Day.
I have the Irish in me. What with the Meehans, the O’Donnells and the O’Mearas, Irishness has been layered in my soul like lines of sediment in a fossilised rock. I’ve inherited the fist fighting fury, the lilting poetry, the blarney and, Holy Mother of Sweet Jesus, bog Irish Catholicism. I’d have pure Irishness throbbing in my veins except for one grandmother, a Beardsell of English stock, sent among us, I suspect, to make the rest of us eat with the proper fork.
to read the full article click on title below:
Just having fun with friends. My take on the Queen’s Speech.
kerrycue 