Tuesday, May 19, 2020


covid19 diarist

11.30 :    Isolation. Self-isolation. Lockdown. What sort of cruel jokes are these. There is nothing new here. We are alone. Always alone. Born alone, live alone, die alone. Forgot to order breakfast.

11.47:       Alone so alone here in the Motel Mortality. The mediocrity of it all, the banality. Heidegger said it best, didn't he, when he said "I wish I'd remembered  to order breakfast " Schopenhauer would have remembered.

12.19 : Check diary, have 4-hour block set aside from 1-5 : Attempt suicide. But why four hours. Usually only takes me half that time. Seems like wallowing in it. Should re-read Heidegger on this.

1.15pm:   Almost stayed in bed. Get up ? What for. The futility of it all.

1.40:    Caramelised-eel-and-paw- paw-icecream with weetbix for breakfast. It's all I deserve really. I might have coffee and then kill myself.

1.55:     Call from Valkerie my personal stylist. Restrictions lifted. My life has purpose again.

2.00:      Broke into a smile. Mild injury. Not doing that again.

3.05:      Call from Valkerie's PA Siegfried. Total Disaster. Delivery of black nail polish and Noir lipsticke held up at NSW border by customs brute ruling not essential goods. WTFF.

3.10:       Impossible to go on living. Barbarians at the gate. Order double-shot Hemlock from UberDeaths.

4.00:        White House Press conference. Trump taking acid, washing it down with detergent. Still no hemlock. This one's on Uberdeaths. There in half an hour, or double your agony back.

4.45:      Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck you death. Fucking useless Chinese Hemlock. Not only am I not dead, I'm stuck here watching Neighbours. For eternity. I could cry.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020


A national cabinet meeting  friday may 8 to announce a press conference on monday may 11 which will report on the decisions of the national cabinet meeting on may 8 and some other stuff which may or may not have happened in the intervening interval and of course being dependant on those dickheads from the surfclub not stuffing it up for everybody else yet again


Let me make one thing perfectly clear ... we\re not there yet. But we can see from here where there may almost certainly be lurking. Now you've all put in a beaut effort, really good effort. Don't stop. It's vital if we want to keep going, that we don't stop. So we've decided a few restrictions can be lifted, particulary on tuesday and wednesday afternoons, and friday mornings if it's overcast. And we'll be letting you know by tuesday afternoon at the latest which restrictions exactly they will be be. This is tricky. This is complicated. To be quite honest my brain hurts a bit, but I expect yours does as well. Let's all be each other's paracetemol here. It's the Australian way.

Because this hasn't gone away. Make no mistake. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's gone. It's very tiny. It's a virus. Very small. You can't really see it all. It's still there. Hiding.

Dan, do you have anything add

DAN ANDREWS: Yes. I have a very deep voice. It adds gravitas.

SCOTT MORRISON;  Yes you do Dan, and I'm sure you're right about the gravitas. I usually leave the cooking to the ladies, but there you go. Anyone else ....

ALL THE OTHER PREMIERS: Aw get fucked Dan you fucking commie poofter wanker

SCOTT MORRISON; All right well that seems to be everything. That's great. Good to see we can play as a team despite our political differences .Let's go play cricket.

Thursday, May 7, 2020


the covid19 diaries

7.49am: Woke up far too early. Keep having these terrible dreams where I have chronic insomnia, and then I wake up and can't back to sleep again for fear of being awake all night. It's a nightmare.

8.00am: Zoom meeting with spiritual advisor. Spiritual advisor refused to unmute me, told me that having four books of Rumi's poetry on the bookshelf next to a copy of Jonathon Livingstone Seagull  was bullshit and I should meditate more. Or less. Or was it masturbate Not quite clear as I was fiddling with Zoom back-drop of Kylie Minogue's bum.  Bill arrived for .0176 bitcoin. No cheques.

8.20am: Forgot how to make coffee. Made cup of instant while I tried to remember how to make  real coffee.

8.25am: Turned on Good Morning Sunrise Australia Mate with Biff, Blondie, Jonestown Massacre, and Gecko the weather reptile.

8.27pm: Overcome with inchoate rage and  suicidal impulses. Turned off Good Morning Sunrise Australia Mate after buying a set of Dyson bladeless knives for only four easy payments of $49.95. Thank God for this option. The four difficult payments would have killed me.

8.30am: Meditation. Have app called Rumi-nation. Get inspiring message every day at 8.31: Rumi says never take your goat onto the roof of your neighbour after the goat has been eating the figs of your uncle. Wow. The clarity. The compassion. I am at one with all, neither above nor below, and quite possibly just over there and up to the right.

9.30am: Zoom meeting with Harvard Law School Task Force Committee to launch class action against Trump on multiple counts of negligent homicide. May have dozed off during meditation and hallucinated this. Even so, I feel we have a good case.

11.00am: Turned on Studio 10 at 11 (till 12). Dr Kerri-Anne Kennerly and special guest Richard Wilkins  debating efficacy of Trump's plan to rename  Coronavirus  Chinese Bastard Flu, and how well this might sit within the context of Kant's Moral Imperative. Some of the things Richard Wilkins said were starting to make sense. Got very confused and frightened and switched to SBS Viceland where Trump's plan is being debated by two naked people on a tropical island who feel  Kant's ethical imperative may be too rigid given endemic uncertainty about actual metaphysical locations. I need a pumpkin scone and a cup of tea

12.30pm:  Overwhelming anxiety bought on by metaphysical uncertainty and  having to set up Zoom meeting for my local Alcoholics Anonymous  group. Accidentally drink three medicinal brandies to overcome the shakes on advice of new housemate who says he'sis a doctor.                                                                                                                                                     
12.50pm: Hopelessly anxious about calling Sponsor to tell him about bust, take 2 oxycodeine and a valium washed down with Coke Zero,,on the advice of new housemate. Accidentally ring old drug dealer. Easy mistake to make.Sponsors name John, dealer's name Zaphod. Names next to each other in phone

2.00pm Zaphod turns up with five grans of coke which he says is is free. Not completely certain I hallucinated this but on balance seems likely. Snort four of the five grams of cocaine and watch News in the Nude on SBS Viceland..

2.15pm:  Zaphod goes online, votes in US Presidential Primary in Dakota, then applies for political asylum. I take the dog for a walk and remember half an hour later that we do not have a dog. Well we didn't have one. Now we have an Australian terrier who wants to see references before he agrees to stay

2.55pm: Sponsor rings to ask how prep for zoom meeting is going. I pretend to be Welsh and tell him that I am not there. Pretty sure I got away with it. Housemate not a doctor. Has BEEN to the doctor.

5.00pm: Apply for job with Offtits Television as a quiz show zoom coordinator. Get the job.

5.10pm:: Start job. Log in. Lose all meeting data, Id's  and passwords. Take compassionate leave.

6.00pm:  Order Vegan pizza and two slabs of Carlsberg Elephant Beer. Watch porn till orders arrive.
Hey. Don't judge. Don't oppress me. It's locally-sourced, gender-fluid artisan porn with strong female characters, authentic narrative arcs, and energy-efficient lighting.

7.30pm: : Non-binary identifying pizza person arrives with order. Oh dear, we don't seem to have any money. What are we to do...

(Video available on Snapchat. Special offer, tonight only $5.99)

Friday, May 31, 2019


I blame Wagner. You can blame him too, if you'd like. If it'd help. It's not like he can fight back or anything, I mean he turned two hundred last week. The trouble with Wagner is that he's so bloody Wagnerian. And another thing. I checked out his comic opera The Mastersingers of Nuremberg. Not one single joke ! WTF Richard Wagner. Who would have thought that my favourite sentence of the week could be .... "And I'm sorry that's all the time we have for Wagner this morning"

But on to serious matters. I have decided in the interests of mankind as a whole to spend at least one hour a day having really deep thoughts. I know you'd do it if you had the time, but hey, I'm a writer, it's not like I have a proper job or anything. So, on your behalf I will be thinking very very deeply everyday about matters of universal importance. And I'll be passing the results on to you, the lucky consumer.

Now. Can of worms. Seriously people, is this the problem we all seem to think it is ? How bad can it be to open up a can of worms ?  Are we looking at a threat to civilisation as we know it ?  I'd be a little more concerned about the sick and sad bastard who first went "What the hell am I going to do with all these worms, I know I'll stick them all here in this tin. And seal it. Then we'll all be safe ". Excuse me ? What ? So. In the interests of truth and safety and universal peace & understanding I have conducted an experiment. Having obtained a government-certified Can of Worms ... oh all right I just grabbed a bunch of worms and sealed them in a tin. You work with what you have. Anyway.


I opened the can of worms. Several hours later one worm had almost reached the edge of the table, called out for water, then collapsed and had to be stretchered off. Two worms had found a couch and settled down to watch Celebrity Rehab, and a fourth worm discovered that James Blundell was standing as a candidate for Bob Katter's Big Hats party in the upcoming election whereupon he shot back into the can and demanded political asylum. The rest of the worms came over a bit dead.

So. Your biggest danger here would appear to be funeral expenses for around twenty-seven worms. Not the end of the world as we know it. I hope this settles the matter.

Saturday, May 18, 2019


Voting is really important. Check carefully to make sure this is a real how-to-vote card. How can I make sure ? Firstly, there should be an enormous amount of confusing and apparently conflicting information. If the item you are holding does not fit this description, it may be a membership application for Costco, or a library card. If it has a picture of a sepia-toned girl with no knickers then it is a naughty French postcard, and if it has a tasteful painting of flowers then it is a birthday card from my mother and I'd like to know what the hell you're doing with it when mine was a day late. You bastard. Right. Back to the three-ring circus. It is useful to remember that democracy is a deeply-flawed concept invented by a bunch of unemployed philosophers wandering around in frocks. I don't want to upset you, I'm just saying.

Now. Voting is not as easy as people think. You have to pay attention. This election campaign has been going on since roughly the time of the Industrial Revolution and we're all a little fatigued. We keep seeing the same faces on the front page day after day. Do Not Be Fooled. These people are not running for office. They are people from football clubs who have been accused of giving their players drugs with unpronounceable names. You cannot vote for them. You cannot even vote for James Hird's hair ( for information about whose hair you may vote for, see below). Do not waste your valuable vote by trying to elect people who are not running for office. Other people who are not running in this particular election are Justin Bieber, Winston Churchill, and that really cute girl who used to be on "Cheers" you know the one whose name you can't remember but she put on a lot of weight.

Can we be brutally frank here. You know it all boils down to voting for the bastard, or voting for the other bastard. Or the really nice and fantastic people who aren't going to win. You just have to make sure you actually correctly perform the act of voting. Okay, you ask, how do I do that ?

It involves a certain amount of furrowing of the brow, scratching the head, and trying to remember what that guy from the Reserve Bank said about interest rates. Then put a number in the little square.

REMEMBER: Cutting your wrists and bleeding over the ballot paper, while perfectly understandable, is not voting. Neither is standing in the booth and screaming loudly in Italian that you are in the seventh circle of hell. And of course waving your penis about and calling it a magic wand is not voting either. Apparently it's just a campaign tactic.

Special stuff to remember this election:


You can if you wish direct lower house preferences to Senator Scott Ludlam's hair, while at the same time voting for Scott himself to retain his Senate seat. This powerful bond between man and hair, Upper and Lower House stands to revolutionise Australian politics as we know it. We live in exciting times.

Finally, a special warning about ninnies and cretins:

  This is Toadsquash Thump, the Nazi Existential Chicken Party Senate candidate for Western Australia. The Wikileaks Party have directed their preferences to this man. And in other electorates, Wikileaks Party preferences have gone to a rock, a smallish penis belonging to an unemployed pastry worker in Albury, and a McDonald's wrapper in a storm water drain in Parramatta . They have done this to fuck with the system, man. To show the Man. That'll work.



      Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate .... it's me Tony. Tone Tony. Tony the Toned  The Jockstrap Jesuit. Used to be the Prime minister remember ? You used to love me but it's all over now ? Say it ain't so bro. I hear I don't have your vote, surely that can't be right. Tell me it's wrong ..... You what ?  What am I wearing ? ..... no, yeah, nah, I won't give you a blow-job, not even if you throw in your wife's vote as well. How about a pony. Yeah mate. A pony. I'll give you a pony … no, an actual pony, I can never figure out all that patois about money and stuff anyway. I once lent a mate five thousand for a cup of coffee. Ponies monkeys gorillas it's all Greek to me I'm just a simple man of the people. Give me some bacon and eggs and a bottle of Chateau Lafitte for breakfast and I'm a bloody happy simple man of the people …..  you calling me a liar, mate? Mate, you calling bullshit on me ? On me ? Your mate. ... you what ? Have you been drinking ? No I mean mate what have you been drinking. Of course you've been drinking, the sun's up. Me ? Of course I've been drinking, the sun's up and I'm a deeply embittered man who's given his all for this country and been tossed aside like an old cherry ripe wrapper for Malcolm bloody fucking mink underpants fucking bloody Turnbull. Sorry. Sorry. Bit emotional today, trust bloody Labour to think of knocking off Hawkie two days before the election.
Wish I'd thought of something like that. Keating's right in a way, eh ? We do lack vision in this party. Christopher should have thought of that before he buggered off. Oh look you know I did used to call him a conceited little fuck-poodle from time to time but it was all in good fun, and he did get things done. He was a fixer. And he could've fixed this -  bit of a going away prezzie. Howard's a nice enough guy but … shtum shtum, said enough. I never said it, I never said a thing. We were discussing the democracy sausage. Right mate ? ..... Sorry. Right. What ? ... I thought you rang me. Anyway, what's the diff. You say tomaaato, I say you're a fucking pretentious twat, we laugh and have another beer. It's the Australian way. So whaddya need to change your mind about voting for me ? ... uh huh... . uh huh .... uh huh.... so first you do understand the government whip isn't an actual whip, oh I';m sure he's got one somewhere but ... uh huh uh huh uh huh ... okay look. You get me your wife's vote, a case of Grange, and a guarantee no-one in your street gives preferences to that asshole Palmer and you get the blow-job. Except we call it a pony not a blow-job and we tell everyone God made me do it. And that Chris Pine fixed the whole thing.



Vote early. Vote often. And if you want someone who can  swallow table tennis balls and turn
them into policy which makes as much sense as this process would suggest, you could always vote
for these three. We know she'll be trying to. Pauline Queen of the Dessert.

Good luck and don't forget your democracy sausage.