Monday, 17th September.
Category Archives: Audio
Friday, 10th August.
Ben telling anti-jokes at about 3am (wait for it):
As rehearsed on Sara’s uke on the train home from Geelong.
And it’s good! Can’t complain.
“Friends – you know who you are; you know we’re grateful.” – Blur, 1993. (Seriously. If ever a year was about Who Your Real Friends Are, it was 2011.)
Similarly, those who have fucked me up and fucked me over this year most likely know who they are also, and possibly how I feel about this (hint: angry, bewildered and sad) – with the possible exception of the Rt Hon Lord Mayor of Melbourne Robert Doyle (note contact details), who I strongly suspect does not have any idea who I am.
(I also doubt he reads this blog. But since it just can’t be said often enough I might as well take this opportunity to (re)state, for the record: Robert Doyle, you’re a fucking cunt. You really are.)
The bulk of this year’s SIDTY post I rendered in audio format at the coast a few nights ago. It goes into a bit more detail (although, to be honest, not all that much). Enjoy:
Vale 2011. Viva 2012.
Happy new year!
Friday, 21st October.
As anomalous Chez Hagakure parties go, I’d rate this one as anomalous out of ten. We didn’t even do Russian Cocaine in the end. Due to earlier events I was a bit discombobulated. Etc. But it still went off.
At an advanced stage of the evening I even shot a video. Don’t say I never do anything for yiz.
Saturday, 24th September.
An epic time was, needless to say, had.
The Patrick Porter award for the best present and best guest overall goes to Kirrily. The prize for the most perverse guests goes to the Keith! Party crew – comprising on this occasion Talkshow Boy, 2-SHEE, Hot God, Gezus and entourage including Ms C. C*ulter (alias unknown) – who turned up unfashionably early, immediately occupied what would normally be the dancing room and systematically set about turning it into a chillout room. WTF. (NB: And it was *great*.)
Prize for the most long-lost-but-pleasingly-now-seemingly-regained former CH party regular goes to Vicwie. Prize for the best guest who wasn’t able to attend physically but who came in essence goes, as always, to Wads. Prize for the best autographed copy of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” and best Tasweigan mafia attaché goes to Doktor Midnight aka The Dan Cross Revolution. Prize for the best drug by almost universal consensus goes to nitrous oxide.
Prize for the most gobsmacking act of delusionality – not to mention the most concerted but nevertheless pathetically unsuccessful attempt to ruin a birthday party of mine in the history of the world – goes to the profoundly
fucked in the head disappointing Ms G. Rouse. Prize for the most departing housemate of three years goes to Grim$ha.
Prize for the most heroically tenacious still-recovering-from-her-own-birthday-shenanigan-the-previous-night attendee and all-round best MC-Ren-would-you-please-give-your-testimony-to-the-jury-about-this-fucked-up-incident regaliousness goes to Toots.
Special award for the mouthiest ho goes, as it generally does, to Kat (see audio, below).
Extra special thanks to, y’know, everyone. Seriously.
Saturday, 14th May.
UPDATE (Sat 21st) – I thought no audio had been captured, but upon checking my phone this afternoon I found this recording, captured at 4:51am, of Johnny “Liable For Nothing” Coburg performing Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, accompanied (IIRC) by Ford on the acoustic guitar and featuring Grimsey scatting at the very end, which is something you don’t hear every day: