This is a bit weird, innit? You all sitting down like that…

So says Mr Gallagher, three songs into his set, to his hitherto entirely seated audience at St Kilda’s The Palais theatre.

Do you have to sit down? I mean, have they told you that you have to sit down?

<pause>

Well stand up then…

<audience rises en masse…>

Thanks Noel. Someone had to say it. Thus began an entertaining hour and a half of old Oasis songs, stuff off his new album, and the occasional spot of banter. I was pretty happy with the mix of songs — including as it did, acoustic versions of Whatever and Supersonic, as well as a smattering of those great early B-Sides (Talk Tonight, Half The World Away, It’s Good To Be Free…), although it apparently wasn’t good enough for some of my fellow audience members, who started yelling out song titles at random in between tracks.

I’m not doing requests, says Noel. I didn’t spend 20 minutes last June working on this setlist for you lot to shout out random shit.

…Especially if you’re not wearing any merchandise, you cheap bastards…

One person who was wearing the merchandise was the kid sitting a couple of rows in front of me with his mum and dad, wearing his brand new Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds T-Shirt. He must have been about 14, and therefore wouldn’t even have been alive the first time I saw Oasis live (back in December 1994 at the Liverpool Royal Court…) Sheesh. That makes me feel old. Where did all that time go?

Bloggers terrorizing politicians? Well that will never do. That’s your job, isn’t it Rupert?

Also, while I’m at it Rupe, do try to remember that if you’re going to make claims about what results a particular Google search returns, you might not want to do that on the internet, where such claims are laughably easily verified.

I’m not entirely sure how this happened. Maybe it’s Twitter’s fault. I used to look at the world for things that made me think “I should blog that”. But that’s so very 2004. Now if I see an amusing typo or a funny sign I just think “I should tweet that”.

Sure, it’s more immediate, but is it as satisying?

I always thought that moving to Australia would be the catalyst for some sustained blogging–oh look at those cultural differences, how amusingly different is Aussie life–but I don’t think my cultural observations got much past laughing at the fact that they use the word Manchester to mean bed sheets. And maybe it’s too late now that I’ve been here for three years. Have I assimilated too much to notice how odd the Aussies are?

Well, we’ll see.

I think I wrote down “write more blogs” as a new year’s resolution about 12 months ago. So obviously that worked well. If I’m claiming it’s for 2012 then I’m already three weeks late. But hey it’s a start. And isn’t admitting you have a problem the first step?

This has been a post about nothing. But a public post about nothing, which is the important bit. Let us see how we go.

The resulting outcry is awkwardly timed for [Sir Peter Stothard, the editor of the TLS], since to access his organ online is to find utter chaos. Already a laughing stock because it is reached via the Times’s “entertainment” division, the TLS’s website has been “under construction” for so long, even Stothers himself felt compelled to admit the process “has tested the patience of readers and writers alike”.

Ahem. Well now. I’d link to the story in the extensive archives on Private Eye’s comprehensive, modern and easy to use website, except that Private Eye don’t seem to have got round to making it yet…

Come on guys. Of all the things you can criticise other publications for, I really don’t think you should have a go at their website until you’ve sorted out your own.

Having said that, when I visited the Private Eye site just now I did see that they have started to embrace the modern age. My subscription apparently entitles me to exclusive “digital downloads”:

Please note, as one of our valued subscribers, you have full free access to all digital downloads and content as well as your print copy of Private Eye every fortnight.

Except. Oh…

Clearly we have neither the time nor finances to attend them all–you’d literally never stop–but every now and again we somehow find ourselves at a disproportionate number of events attached to a particular one. A few years ago it was the comedy festival; another year we binged on short film at the St Kilda Film Festival, and this year we ended up “doing” the Melbourne Writers Festival.

Somewhat surprisingly, every time I would mention to someone that we were seeing the festival’s big international name, Jonathan Franzen, in conversation at the beautiful BMW Edge theatre in Fed Square, I was mostly met with only blank stares (seriously? He wrote The Corrections! He said no to Oprah! He’s, like, really famous…) Well, I’m a big fan whether you’ve heard of him or not, and although I still haven’t found the time to read Freedom (the curse of walking to work means that I’ve lost my novel reading time), I’ve read everything else. He was an entertaining and articulate speaker and the hour flew by. Even the audience Q&A segment (which can sometimes be excrutiating) was very entertaining. I particularly enjoyed Jonathan’s rather endearing habit of pausing to think before answering a question. Clearly this is a man who does not fear an uncomfortable silence. Maybe I’ll start adopting this strategy in job interviews. Or maybe not.

The following night we were back in Fed Square to see the live recording of the ABC’s Q&A (the Aussie version of question time), hosted by the always entertaining Tony Jones–a sort of cross between Dimbleby and a slightly friendlier Paxman. As the producer assured us before it kicked off, it really is live–not for them the luxury of a 10 second delay. Perhaps one might have come in handy, though, judging by the fact that they accidentally put this to air:

That was supposed to be a short pre-show promo in which Tony Jones introduces the panel, but unfortunately someone put the audio feed live just early enough for the unfortunate punchline to the warm up guy’s joke (“…85 year old Sudanese woman”) to be broadcast to Australia’s living rooms. I can’t imagine what people at home must have thought (the setup that they didn’t hear was something along the lines that the makeup artists who were at that moment dabbing foundation on the panel are so good that underneath it all Tony Jones is actually that aforementioned 85 year old Sudanese woman…)

Oops.

Still, all of that did mean that I made my second appearance on Aussie telly: many years ago I randomly switched on Channel Ten to see my stupid laughing head in the audience of that year’s Melbourne Comedy Festival Gala. This time with the aid of the pause button, a bit of Where’s Wally type fun backed up with the knowledge of exactly where I was sitting and what I was wearing I was able to locate myself in the crowd pulling a stupid face. Between the two of us we’ve now appeared on three of the five terrestrial channels–Sal was with a group of girls interviewed by Channel 7 at Flemington many years ago–so that just leaves Nine and SBS. I wonder if we can make it onto the other two? Channel Nine is probably achievable if I hang around on Dorcas Street in South Melbourne for long enough in October while they’re filming the next series of The Block, but SBS could be tricky: I guess I’d either have to go on Countdown or get my kit off…

Our third writers festival event in as many days was an evening of foodie indulgence at the new Vue de Monde up the top of the Rialto tower in the company of chef and owner Shannon Bennett talking about his new guide to New York. It was enough to make me really want to go back to New York–just a shame it’s not quite as accessible from here as it was from London. Still, a lovely evening with some great food and wine. We even got to shake the man’s hand as he signed our book for us.

Yesterday I received the following email:

Just as well it’s not the Melbourne Spellers Festival…

As we stopped to watch for a bit, we almost literally bumped into presenter Scott Cam, who was pacing up and down practising his lines:

“Shall we get a pint and watch?” I asked Sal, and as there was a free table outside The Napier across the street, we sat down with a Mountain Goat Hightail Ale and a glass of Chardonnay and gawped for a bit as a series of cars pulled up and deposited a series of increasingly ridiculously overdressed real estate agents and their hangers on at the steps of the town hall, much to the bemusement of the hipster Fitzroy locals having a fag outside the pub.

Some of these agents were familiar faces to us: we spent the best part of a year going to open for inspections in the area before we found our piece of Collingwood, and I recognised a good few faces in the crowd from those days (including the agent who sold us our house, and who I remember having a massive phone argument with when she wouldn’t pass my offer on to the vendor…)

After the agents came the contestants, past and present, posing for photos on the steps of the town hall:

Considering how many people had apparently invaded Cameron Street for the open for inspections, there were surprisingly few members of the public hanging around: just the aforementioned bemused hipsters outside the pub, a few passers by, a couple of kids and us.

As the auction itself was held behind closed doors, we finished our drinks, wandered over to take a few photos and left them to it. As I was taking the last of my shots I turned to my left to see a Channel 9 bloke with a camera pointing it directly in my face. So should you happen to watch the show tonight keep your eyes peeled for a skinny Brit taking his photo of the day…

Well yes, Jarvis, I do actually. For me it was the 23rd February 1996 (15 years ago–gosh does that make me feel old…) half a lifetime ago on the other side of the world, in what was then the Manchester Nynex Arena, although to this day I’m not entirely sure who Nynex were, and why they were ever sponsoring a music venue in Manchester. This of course was in the days following that little incident at the Brits (Jarv was even interviewed from his dressing room before the Manchester gig by Chris Evans for TFI Friday).

Pulp are one of those bands that I really never thought I would see live again: even when they announced they were reforming to play the Isle of Wight, not to mention Wireless and that surprise Glasto set, all of which we narrowly avoided on our recent trip home, I thought I’d missed my chance.

There’s been some water under the bridge for the band as well as me in the intervening 15 years, but their set on Friday was remarkably similar to the one I saw them play in Manchester, and Jarvis was on good form, at least once he got his shoes sorted: after Do You Remember The First Time? he called back to the stage crew for a change of footwear, blaming the slippy Festival Hall stage. “They’re not orthopaedics”, he reassured us in his Sheffield deadpan as he put his new shoes on, before giving them a little try and announcing “oh yeah, you’re in for a show now…”

And we certainly were. Sadly they apparently played their last ever Australian show at Splendour last night, but I’m glad I was there for this one.

I can’t help thinking that the author of this message could have phrased that last line a little better…

To: [A Different Matt]

Greetings All

Thank you Matt and Jennifer for your insights. I appreciate the distinction ..having a critical spirit or critical thinking. Many times when I take a hard line I question it after the fact.I I expect when we take a hard line it will be to the improvement of the overall Joac Ministry. If I am going to hold David’s feet to the fire…I expect my feet to be held to the fire. I look forward to us building relationship with each person on the Uganda Board, each child in the family home. I believe we have a unique Us Board that is helping the Lord build his kingdom in Uganda. Thanks Jenn for the photo of the kids with the black shoes. That makes what we do worthwhile. Touching each child.

Blessings
John

I’m sorry, what now? I’m supposed to have a favourite transaction? Well I don’t remember them asking the pop stars of Smash Hits that question back in the 80s. To be honest, Mr NAB, before you asked I hadn’t even given a second thought to what my favourite amount of money to take out of my account at any given time might be. I guess it depends.

Perhaps the bank likes to think that its customers hang around discussing this, arguing High Fidelity-style about their top 5s (“…oh man, ‘fifty bucks from my savings account, no receipt, on-screen balance’ is where it’s at. Best. Transaction. Ever.”)

What makes this annoying is that even after you’ve given in and selected your favourite, it keeps asking you. Every time you select an amount that isn’t your favourite, the machine asks you if you’d like to save this one instead. Well if you think I’m so fickle that I want to change my favourite transaction every time I use your ATM, then you haven’t really understood the concept of a favourite, have you?

So they’ve added a feature of dubious usefulness at the expense of forcing everyone to click through an additional screen every time they use the machine. Hmm. I’d call that one a UI-fail.

It’s almost as annoying as those Barclay’s machines in the UK that ask you if you’d like an “advice slip”. I’m always slightly disappointed when the ensuing piece of paper that spews out of the machine just tells me how much is left in my account, rather than that I should “dump my partner”, “quit my job”, and/or “never eat yellow snow”.