Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Liquid Karl



 

We are concerned for the well being of Karl Lagerfeld. Once renowned as a fashion genius it seems his obsession with being thin is spiralling out of control. Some of Karl's closest friends have been calling us at all hours (our European friends often forget they live in a different time zone); they are distressed and think he may be losing touch with reality. Not only is he fanning himself constantly with the mistaken belief that it burns more calories, he has not sat down for a week, citing the same energy-burning reasons. They feel Nicole Kidman - another one who is wasting away - is a bad influence and they're asking us if there is anything the Australian government can do to make her eat. On the Baz Lurhman set of the Chanel No. 5 commercial, Nic and Karl raised eyebrows by sucking on ice cubes and eating only sunflower seeds during the four-day shoot. His friends tell us that Liquid Karl (a cheap cologne available through the H&M chain in Europe) is a manifestation of Karl's body dysmorphia and his recent tantrum when the said chain store brought his clothes out in sizes 14-16 confirms their fears. Ever since he's been together with his (much) younger boyfriend, skinny-jean designer Hedi Slimane, his sole purpose in life has been to fit into Hedi's jeans. Now that he's achieved his goal, his mates say he's on a mission to make the world a thinner place. Recently his PA intercepted disturbing letters written by Lagerfeld to Sir Bob Geldof, where he suggested doing air drops of skinny jeans over Ethiopia and requested some field shots - male and poster size. This time last year we were very worried about Karl and even wrote a poem for him, but in the wake of these new 'Dream Race' revelations we are frightened. We suggest that anyone who knows Karl block him out of his or her life and we call for a boycott on all Chanel and Karl Lagerfeld brands, especially Liquid Karl.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Claire Summonsed by Harrod's Boss



Our dear friend and life guru, Claire Voyant, has attracted attention from a most unlikely source. Since our publication of Bonnie Prince Harry we have received a lovely letter, handwritten on very expensive paper from Mohamed al Fayed requesting an audience with Claire at his residence in Switzerland. As we have previously mentioned Claire does not normally do house-calls or readings 'by request', but we were so moved by Mr al Fayed's sorrow that we felt obliged to at least ask her. After giving us a minor scolding for ignoring her rules, Claire agreed to read the letter (it didn't take her long 'cos she's a speed reader). She moved over to the window and stared at nothing particular in the distance. We were so nervous waiting for a response, we weren't able to eat and our lamingtons remained untouched on the table. Without turning around, Claire finally spoke: "This man needs me. And I've always wanted to ski the deep mountain lakes of der Schweiz. Tell him I will see him, but only if you come with me as I've never been on an aircraft before. We only need our travel and accommodation costs covered. Kindly decline his offer of gold bullion." She then blessed the letter, handed it back to us and left the room. Relieved, we headed straight to Flight Centre, taking the lamingtons to snack on.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Cad's Denial (again)

We have been contacted by James Hewitt's people. They steadfastly deny that Major James Hewitt was ever in Argentina. It was an impersonator.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

El Principe Rebelde

Hot on the heels of the Buckingham Batman Debacle, it seems The Cad's condition is worsening. During their investigations into the alleged abduction attempt of Prince Harry from Omar Nievas's Bar in the one-street town of Salvador Maria, Argentinian officials have followed a bizarre trail of evidence that has lead them to the InterContinental Hotel in Buenos Aires. In the week following the young Prince's sudden return to England on a commercial flight police searched the abandoned and unpaid hotel room of a person calling themselves Major James Hewitt.

POLICE INVENTORY OF JAMES HEWITT'S HOTEL ROOM:

PLASTIC BAG 1

1 x carton of Benson and Hedges full strength cigarettes (3 remaining)
23 x Omar Nievas's matchbooks
1 x 24 pack Trojan 'Rough Rider' condoms (unopened)
1 x black sock
1 x tester bottle Chanel L'Egoiste
6 x damaged British Royal family portraits (head of Prince Harrry missing)
1 x iPod Mini containing 2 x Mp3s (Father and Son-Cat Stevens and Alive-Peal Jam)
1 x song lyrics and chord progressions written on InterContinental writing paper with the title 'Third in Line to Your Heart'.
1 x Nickel brand Morning After Rescue Gel for the face (empty)
1 x Salon Lady Jane hairbrush
1 x floorplan of Omar Nievas's bar
2 x 2m lengths of rope
1 x balaclava
1 x room service order form (incomplete)


PLASTIC BAG 2

4 x small paper squares with white powder residue
1 x black underpants, Calvin Klein brand
1 x razor, Gillette brand (used)
1 x Polo Players Edition magazine
1 x News of the World newspaper
4 x Magnum size Verve Cliquot Champagne (empty)
1 x Yellow ruled writing pad with three loose pages (penciled writing): page 1- the name Harry Hewitt signed repeatedly in several different styles, page 2 - Hewitt & Son: Aboriginal Art Dealers written in large, block letters, page 3 - pornographic doodlings.
9 x mobile phone pre-paid recharge cards
1 x Losing My Virginity: Richard Branson, The Autobiography
1 x Caron Dache crayons

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Counselling Sir Elton

From the moment Sir Elton opened the door we got the vibe that things weren’t right; he was in his adidas, and he doesn’t like people seeing him in his casuals. He didn’t even comment on what we were wearing. Sir Elton seemed quite manic and he was perspiring heavily. He ushered us to our rooms, past all of his vases, apologising repeatedly for the dead flowers. Knowing Sir Elton’s penchant for fresh floral arrangements we knew he was unhappy.

We’d never met David before, but over drinks he gave the distinct impression of a chatterbox. He was talking over Sir Elton and being very loud. It was difficult for us to get a word in. Sir Elton was becoming increasingly frustrated and eventually slammed his Pimms onto the table. He stormed out, the whooshing of his tracksuit the only sound in a finally silent room.

David opened another Cristal and talked passionately about his time in the advertising industry. There was no mention of any forthcoming wedding. When he spotted the gifts beneath our feet he made it obvious he wanted to unwrap his present. He was so excited when he opened the box containing RM Williams boots; we’d chosen the Cuban heels for David and the Pony Club for Sir Elton because of his back. We pretended to be tired from the flight and told David we were off to bed.

We got lost when we went to look for Sir Elton, his house is such a labyrinth. Eventually we heard sniffing from behind the door of one of his bathrooms. It sounded like Sir Elton might be crying. We pulled out some tissues and slipped them under the door. After a while he let us into the room and invited us to sit on the edge of the spa-bath. He sat there on the bidet like ‘The Thinker’ for about 5 minutes and then told us the wedding was cancelled, or postponed, or something. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Sir Elton was very confused, but it didn’t seem clinical.

Whilst we were concerned for Sir Elton’s plight, we were jet-lagged (our excuse for leaving David was not entirely untrue) and we had been eyeing off the spa for sometime. We suggested we all hop in for a more comfortable counselling session. Sir Elton’s enthusiasm was indeed surprising, he turned the taps on and started ranting about his many natural bathing products from the south of France. He was going on about L’Occitane, Cote Bastide and Lothantique, regurgitating what to us seemed like press releases, stuff about how Olivier Baussan (L’Occitane founder) discovered shea butter by sitting next to an African lady on an aeroplane. And how a mother and son team found ancient body care recipes in a barn on the coast of Bastide and prepare the potions by hand; they only wear hessian and handwrite all of the labels on recycled paper and attach them with string. Privately, we refer to these products as French Scams, but given Sir Elton’s state we couldn’t bring ourselves to tell him.

The spa seemed to release Sir Elton. He spoke more calmly and explained how David was The One but there was something nagging inside him. At first he thought he had residual issues from his first marriage to Renata Blauel in 1984, but we weren’t convinced and probed him further. After several hours, Sir Elton finally cracked and in a frantic monologue (with some shouting) poured out his heart. He said he had as many issues as he had glasses, and he did: lots, some of them contradictory. He said if he wasn’t in the public eye he would marry for love, and love alone, but he is a Knight and he has duties. He seemed obsessed with the gay marriage debate and his role in it and asked us for our comments. We explained to Sir Elton that his was an interesting moral dilemma, particularly in the current global climate. On the one hand, marrying David could be seen as aping ideals that were designed for the creation of family units to further the Gross National Product of the industrialised nations of the West. On the other, given the rise of Christian fundamentalism in Western politics, a high profile marriage of a homosexual icon could be seen as an act of defiance against the insidious elements of the Far Right. Sir Elton seemed overwhelmed by his predicament; we certainly didn’t envy our friend. To soothe him we offered to wash his back with the Tunisian sea sponges we’d picked up during our shop-over. As we squeezed the fragrant water over Sir Elton’s shoulders we told him that we listen to Claire in times like these and her advice for any crossroad problems is to simply do nothing, just be yourself, and the answer will come.

We left Sir Elton alone in the spa for some quiet time. With our pruned fingers and toes, we were keen to dry out. After getting lost again, we eventually found our room and were shocked to find we had a visitor. To our horror we found David, hunched over our luggage, copying notations from our journal into his mobile phone. As we had caught him red-handed he had no excuse. He squirmed as he told us that he had been experiencing a creative block as a writer and that if he ever published anything of ours he would give us money. He begged us not to tell Sir Elton and even had the audacity to threaten us with his proximity to powerful people in the ‘industry’ who could make sure we’d never work on this planet again. We told him that it was not the time to be talking intellectual property rights or intimidation when Sir Elton was at his lowest ebb. He ran from the room with his tail between his cargo pants.

The next morning at breakfast Sir Elton seemed much better. He was chirpy in his new boots and we remembered why he is so dear to us. He was teasing us about how we were eating so much toast, but Sir Elton gets the best orange marmalade from an innkeeper’s wife somewhere really obscure in the English countryside. David was nowhere in sight and we didn’t ask any questions, or mention anything about the theft. We knew that Sir Elton had a lot more thinking to do. He was obviously on a little bit of a high from his psychological break-throughs the night before. To give him space we called Arab Emirates and changed our flight details so we could get to know Dubai (we’ve heard it’s a safe way to see the Middle East) before returning home to Melbourne. Entwined in Sir Elton’s bear like hug we told him how proud we were to see him living his Knighthood with such a profound sense of duty. We were tempted to criticise Sir Mick at this point but we’d heard he’d be catching up with Sir Elton in Bali next month.

Even though it was rather exhausting, our short time with Sir Elton was wonderful in the sense that we rarely see him alone. He’s had more hangers-on than a Northern Territory road train and some of them were just big sulks who knew how to press his buttons about being ‘hassled’ by the media to get an invitation to stay at his house. There was a point where we thought Sir Elton was running a safe house for self-saucing victims. David never reappeared so it was just Sir Elt’s (as he calls himself when he does silly voices) at the door seeing us off. We knew he would make the right decision.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Offline - 4 a special invite

punk and blanket are on vacation. They flew out just before the Cup on an Arab Emirates flight bound for Europe via Dubai. Sir Elton has invited them to help celebrate his engagement to long-term partner David Furnish.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Bonnie Prince Harry

We have just returned from an amazing weekend with our spiritual mentor Claire Voyant. She invited us onto her houseboat, The Claire Buoyant, which she moors at Bonnie Doon. We'd been wanting to go to the Doon for some time as some of our friends in the Police Force have shacks and ponies up there and they always look refreshed when they come back.

Our visit brought home to us the severity of the water shortage and global warming. It was hot and the dam was alarmingly low. The receding water line made it very difficult to get to The Claire Buoyant as she was almost 500 metres from the original shoreline. Murray (Claire's Bush Poet Boyfriend) had fashioned a chain and some old fence posts into a climbing aid (similiar to the chain that infidels use to climb Uluru) so that we could get down the muddy banks with our luggage.

After a delicious lunch, cooked by Murray, of BBQ'd Redfin, potato salad and a glass of Turkey Flat Rose, Claire asked us if we'd mind her getting in a quick ski. Riding with Murray up the front of the speedboat, we were privileged to witness the natural agility that saw Claire crowned Miss Barefoot Moomba, 1965.

Later that night, which was clear and still, we played euchre with Claire and Murray. Claire was taking trick after trick and it was getting a bit boring. All of a sudden Claire dropped her hand and started rocking in her chair, then she started speaking in what we thought were tongues. Murray instinctively grabbed the scoring pencil and started scribbling. We just eased back into our chairs and savoured the reprieve from Claire's merciless card game. When it all died down and Claire had wiped her mouth, Murray turned to us and asked if we were familiar with Yumpla Tok or Torres Strait Broken, which of course, we weren't. Murray, who's really into linguistics, reckons Yumpla Tok is the post-contact language of Thursday Islanders and other indigene of the Torres Strait. He said he knew for a fact that Claire does not speak Yumpla Tok, nor has she been to Thursday Island, so it had to be 'from the other side'. He told us the visitant warned of a 'gap closing in on her boy' and also 'mind the snap'. We took note of this message and dealt a fresh hand.

The next day we are at the milk bar getting Claire some smokes. The guy behind the counter notices our Royal Tour 1982 T-Shirts and asks us if we've heard the latest on Prince Harry (he called him Ginger Meggs). We say no, so he directs us to The Age where we see Harry, a sad and troubled soul, caught in a crossfire of flashbulbs. The young prince has lashed back at the paparazzi. They are saying that his gap year has been a complete disaster and the headlines read 'Harry Snaps'. It seems that yet again Claire was spot on, and to realise we had been in the same houseboat as Lady Di last night sent us shivers.

We return to The Buoyant and upon seeing our ashen faces, Claire fixes us a shandy. As we pour out our worries for the third in line to the British (and Our) throne, Claire embraces us and whispers "Remember what I've told you, he will be fine, " into our ears. Murray joins us in a group hug.

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

Screams Inside Beckingham Palace

Transcript: Conversations between Mr and Mrs David Beckham
Recorded: October 9, 2004

*Out Of Your Mind by Victoria Beckahm playing on the sound system*
*Door opening*
*Soccer boots clicking on marble tiles*
Victoria :*Distant screech* Where have you been?
David: ugh
Victoria: Daaaaaaavid?
David: ugh
*Footsteps, (highheels) approaching*
Victoria: I've been on the phone all day trying to clean up the mess that lying cow made.
With no help from you, I might add.
*Sound of soccer ball being kicked into a wall at close range*
*Phone ringing*
Victoria: Daaaaaaavid don't you dare answer it. I'm talking to you.
Answering machine: Beep!
Voice from answer machine: Hi Vicky, Hi DB, it's Sir Elt's. Just wondering how you're coping. F***ing media, those vile, vile pigs. If you're wanting to get away David and I would love to have you guys over, so, you know, if you need some time out. We've just gotten rid of Robbie, and Liz is trying to patch things up in Bombay. So er, the guest wing is free, so, you know, you're welcome anytime. Don't worry we've got a great beautician we can hook you up with. He does great spray tans. Oxygen, not sugar. Great game last week Dave. Love to Buster and Monster, chins up eh! ciao
David: Sir Elton is really nice, isn't he. Are they a couple? I've been hearing rumours he's a homosexual. But he writes all those love songs.
Victoria: Sometimes I can't believe how dumb you are. Mum always said you were really stupid. Aaaaand lower class.
*Sound of television being turned on. Theme song of Neighbours plays*
Victoria: Have you had your head shaven again? I thought we agreed you were going to grow it out.
*Sound of incoming text message*
Victoria: Who's that.
*Sounds of text message being written*
Victoria: Who is it Daaaaavid?
*footsteps, soccer boots across marble tiles*
Victoria: Where do you think you're going?
*Door opening*
Victoria: You're using me, confusing me, two-timing me!
*Door closing*
Daaaaaaaaaavid!

The Surrealists Prayer

Our Founding Fathers
Whose arts in Heaven
Hallowed be thy names
Thy automatic writings come
Thine will be done
In Australia as it was in Parisian cafes
Give us this day our daily surrealist activity
And forgive us our bourgeoise tendencies
As we forgive those who bore us at dinner parties
And lead us not into minimax
And deliver us from earnestness
For thine is the truth
The Marcel and the Andre
Forever and ever

Amanray

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

SpaceShipOne Pt 2

............................after a particularly unpleasant bout of spacesickness, Sir Rich suggests we lie down. He unfolds the double bed and straps us in. To help us relax he presses play on the craft's sound system. We are instantly soothed by Sting's voice reading passages from Losing My Virginity: the Sir Richard Branson Autobiography. He strokes our hair and tells us we would make beautiful flight attendants. When we are feeling better the pilot announces that we are about to go weightless. Sir Rich is very excited and plays us A Space Oddity by his friend David Bowie. No gravity enables us to dance like never before. Squealing with delight we invite Sir Rich to join us in a Space Shuffle, but he doesn't answer. He seems unusually distant as he floats by the biggest porthole, staring down at Earth. In a voice we have never heard before he tells us that there were many many times in his life where he felt like he was Major Tom, but ironically, not now. Moved beyond belief, we bob up and down in silent reverence as the blue of Planet Earth reflects in the silver of Sir Richard Branson's hair.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Achtung!

In the wake of yesterday's ferocious crocodile attack in The Top End we are taking it upon ourselves to warn visitors to our Wide Brown Land that Australia is becoming more and more dangerous. Thousands of deadly Saltwater Croc's are veering off the Crocodile Highways¹ and making their way into people's tents. We feel it is only a matter of time before Germany looses another tourist. To assist travellers to Australia we have compiled a list of handy hints:

1. Never ever smile at a Crocodile, it will not lead to any form of bonding. They are cold blooded and do not make good friends.
2. They are fully protected so pre-emptive attacks are a no no.
3. Swim in designated safe areas only - so if you see one of these signs
don't enter the water.
4. Do not accept sweets (or any other inducements) from Crocodiles. Do not get into a car with one.
5. If at a water's edge or mangrove keep throaty growls to a minimum. You could attract a male Crocodile in search of a mate. Crocodiles mate for several months, and seem to like it. This could hamper your holiday itinerary.

Please observe our advices so that you arrive home in one piece. Have a lovely holiday.
With love and respect,
punk and blanket.

¹"They often travel from one watercourse to the next and use the ocean simply as a crocodile highway..." Gary Zillfleisch, retired croc handler.

Friday, October 08, 2004

SpaceShipOne

We've always wanted to go to Space and now Sir Richard Branson is making it possible. Of course we are hoping that he will invite us along on one of his trips. Like Sir Richard we are very interested in the Grand Scheme of Things. Our studies in existentialism also attract us to the voyage. It really is the only way we (and Sir Richard) can experience the reality of being a speck in the universal ocean. We also think Sir Richard is handsome. Claire reckons the best way to achieve your dreams is through creative visualisation, using sequence rather than narrative......................................................................

..................as a Baby Boomer, Sir Richard is a rebel billionaire who can handle his drugs. Cruising the Grand Nothingness we share the Virgin Galactic Hookah connected to SpaceShipOne's fuel tanks of nitrous oxide. Sir Rich is so witty we're wetting ourselves, which assists in the prevention of Puffy-Head Bird-Legs Syndrome. Sir Rich is so terrified of Puffy-Head Bird-Legs Syndrome, where microgravity causes body fluids to congregate in wrong places, he has designed us special suits that are very tight, very slimming second skins, sort of 'Nancy Ganz 4 Space'. Witnessing the extent of orbital debris out there raises our environmental concerns and we gingerly put them to Sir Richard. He tells us in no uncertain terms that space junk can be likened to free radicals like himself and that in the name of progress they are part of the equation.



Thursday, October 07, 2004

Mental Cad

The latest wire from MI5 concerning James Hewitt is astounding. Apparently Hewitt sent this sms to Prince Harry repeatedly on the day British Art Experts estimated Harry's dot paintings to be worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

I was once like U R now + I know that its not easy.........2 B calm.......when U found somethings been going on.....but take U'R time.......think a lot.....Y.....think of everything we could have.........4 U will still B here 2moro..........but our dreamings may not..........

Get this!



When Rhett Hutchences' second daughter was born Paula Yates suggested they call her Saucy Cupcake!

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Total XS

Another heart felt congratulations goes out to Rhett Hutchence for his first book titled Total XS. We're only up to page 65 but we are gripped by the story of an unconventional upbringing of two brothers. There's an excellent tale where Rhett and his pet albino rat share a moment with Michael Jackson. Rhett had the rat up his sleeve whilst flying first class alongside Mike and his entourage. Here are the details of their encounter in the cockpit:

'Hello, my name is Rhett, and I just want to say hi and introduce you to my rat'.
Michael was going through a stage when he dressed like Mickey Mouse in Steamboat Willie, he sounded like him too.
'Oh he's so beautiful, he's so cute,' he squeaked.
'He's a big fan of yours,' I said.
'Oh I love animals I love rats. What's his name, Ben?'
'No. His name's Plague.'
'That's so cute, I love animals, I love rats.'
'Well we'd better be going. I hope you enjoy your stay and have a good tour.'
'Oh thank you. Bye Plague. I love animals, I love rats, he's so cute.'

Some Potty-Mouthed Truths From Sir Elton

We would like to congratulate Sir Elton for lashing out at Madonna. Sir Elton spoke for all of us when he highlighted the injustice of charging 75 quid to watch her mime. Using strong language to cite his case Sir Elton risked his seat on the next Kabbalian camel train, but his committment to pure musical experiences overrode his affection for Mrs Ritchie. Our wonderful Claire is supporting Sir Elton (even though she hates swear words) and even sent us a text whilst the story was on the news, saying 'he's right u know'.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Frenzied and Deranged SMS

We have just obtained the first instalment from MI5 regarding the Batman Hewitt matter.

On July 4 2004 James Hewitt sent this sms to Prince Harry 23 times:

Son I say......have I got a little story 4 U.....what U thought was your Daddy was nothin but...........while you were sitting home alone the age of 13 your real Daddy was crying.............oh Harry I'm still alive...........oh Haz we will survive.........

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Hunter v Hunter



We were listening to the radio the other day and we heard a touching tale of another Aussie battler. Crocodile Mick is being stood over by Steve 'Zookeeper' Irwin, his wife Terri, and his company. Although Mick actually hunts wild crocodiles, according to Steve et. al he should not be calling himself 'The Crocodile Hunter'. We would like to make it clear that we @ punkandblanket.blogspot.com do not condone the slaughter of exotic animals (although we have heard that the crocs in the Northern Territory are out of control and roam the streets of Darwin at night), however we fully support Mick in this semantic debate.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Claire Voyant - Email Stalkers

Since Claire joined us on this site we have received thousands of emails from some lovely people, but there have also been some that are proving to be troublesome. We feel it necessary to reiterate that Claire Voyant will not do house calls or give advice over the phone, and more importantly she will not reveal the name of Prince Harry's future bride. A lass by the name of Kiki is particularly insistent and we have even feared for Claire's life, such are the sinister undertones contained in her emails. Kiki, your address has been blocked by our software.

Saturday, September 25, 2004

Trapped




trapped
in Never land
the rollercoaster
don't seem that fun now
trapped
in Never land
me and the chimps
set up the trundle
and
clean the windows
and
do the dishes
while
michael dances.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Melbourne Gangland Qiz: The Second Hit



1. Arrange these Melbourne mobsters into their respective Gangs under the headings Carlton Mob and Western Suburbs Clan:

Alfonso Gangitano, Lewis Moran, Victor Brincat, Graham Kinniburgh, Jason Moran, Carl Williams, Antonios Mokbel, Dominic Gatto, Andrew Veniamin, Milad Mokbel.

2. Who am I?


I was once a regular patron of Crown Casino's Mahogany Room.
I am known as a Gentleman.
As part of my protest against sharing one razor with 38 other prisoners, my normally close shaven chin now sports a salt and pepper beard.
My once portly, Lygon St waistline is said to be receding due to the light cream based pasta sauces that are derigeur at Port Phillip Prison.
I am...

3. Match these underworld identities with their aka's:

Alfonso Gangitano
Victor Brincat
Graham
Kinniburgh
Carl Williams

Dominic Gatto
Andrew Veniamin

Antonios Mokbel

Marathon Man
The Don
The Munster
The Truth
The Godfather
Tony
Benji


4. W
ho dobbed Carl Williams in for conspiring to murder Mario Condello?

5. What two words rang through the air seconds before Carl took a non-fatal bullet?



Answers
1. Western Suburbs Clan
Victor Brincat, Carl Williams, Antonios Mokbel, Milad Mokbel, Andrew Veniamin

Carlton Mob
Alfonso Gangitano, Lewis Moran, Jason Moran, Graham Kinniburgh, Dominic Gatto

2. Dominic Gatto

3. Alfonso Gangitano - The Godfather
Victor Brincat - Marathon Man
Graham Kinniburgh - The Munster
Carl Williams - The Truth
Dominic Gatto - The Don
Andrew Veniamin - Benji
Antonios Mokbel - Tony

4. His cousin - (name suppressed)

5. No Jason!

Monday, September 20, 2004

Scoop!






Our contacts in MI5 have wired us scorching intelligence! Jason 'Buckingham Batman' Hatch is not who he claims to be. James 'The Cad' Hewitt did not realise he would be exposing himself by using the same initials and our MI5 associates are stunned at his lack of imagination. Supposedly in rehabilitation for his cocaine addiction, The Cad had been planning this stunt for some time. The Secret Police seized Batman comics, DVDs, costume patterns, a sewing machine and a Rolls Royce refashioned into a Batmobile from Hewitt's country estate. In an extraordinary turn of events, James no longer denies parentage of Prince Harry. Friends of Hewitt have told police that James had been babbling he would one day scale the walls of Buckingham Palace and "reclaim his son", although it seems proximity to Harry has been motivated by greed; the young Prince's dot painting empire is now worth a fortune. British agents have discovered frenzied text messages sent by Hewitt to Prince Harry's mobile and what initially appeared to be touching sentiment turned out to be lyrics lifted from Cat Stevens' 'Father and Son' and Pearl Jam's 'Alive'.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Mob Lingo #4

Squareheads...




...people who work for a living, pay taxes and die of natural causes.

Mob Lingo #3 (archival)

College of Knowledge



HM Pentridge Prison

Melbourne Gangland Qiz Questions

1. Who was the last person to call mobster Andrew ‘Benji’ Veniamin’s mobile phone before Dominic 'Mick' Gatto put him down at La Porchella restaurant?

a. Carl Williams
b. Ray Martin
c. Greg Domaszewicz
d. One of his girlfriends

2. Why was it unusual that Benji was photographed in the Queensland surf with his master Carl ‘the Truth’ Williams?



3. Underworld figure Nikolai Radev was known as ‘Nik the Russian’ and ‘Nik the Bulgarian’. Where was he actually from?

a. Russia
b. Bulgaria
c. Molvania
d. Turkmenistan

4. Nik had the word taxi tattooed on his penis - why?

Answers

1. c. Greg Domaszewicz
2. Benji could not swim
3. b. Bulgaria
4. Because it went everywhere

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Melbourne Gangland Qiz

Questions, Guns and Memories - coming soon ! ! !

Friday, September 10, 2004

Open Letter to Sir Richard Branson

Dear Sir Richard,

Re Our Blog punkandblanket.blogspot.com

We've decided you are the right person to approach about this. We are artists in need of emancipation. So that we may concentrate on our artistic endeavours, we need a philanthropist. In return for your generosity we will include your name in the URL of our blog (eg punkandblanketandsirrichardbranson.blogspot.com) and we will weave you into every post. As we view you as an artist yourself we do not see our union as compromising our integrity. If it is of interest we are blonde and female.

We were thinking around the 500.000 dollar mark, each.

Thanking You In Advance Sir,

punk and blanket

Young Prince Unwittingly Laying Foundations Of Destiny



Claire's Automatic Writings

From the look of Claire's place it appeared she had been trancing all night. It was like a blizzard had taken place in a stationary store; paper strewn everywhere. We found ramblings written in texta on the walls and the fridge. Claire had spray-painted the letter Y in dots, in the same way our black brothers do, on all of her doors. We began to worry about her, wondering if she was referring to some dis-ease of her own (we've never known Claire to be political in any way so it was unlikely that it was a reference to Prince Harry's controversial dot paintings). The sparkle of her Melanie Griffith screen-saver caught our eye. This was unsettling, Claire is not one to leave electrical equipment on, it tends to flip her chakras. Tentatively we nudged her mouse, dissolving Melanie's sparkle to reveal an unnamed 23 page Word document. So far we have deciphered 10 pages. It's like peering through a mystical keyhole.

Claire must have been in quite a state as she had changed font every few paragraphs, returning obsessively to comic sans. It took us hours to disseminate the voices that spoke through her, and there certainly were some recurring themes involving popular music. Prince Harry will continue the tradition of noblesse oblige so beautifully embodied by his late mother. Instead of looking after the sick and the dying, Harry will stick with what he knows. His largess will concern the plight of celebrity offspring who have lost one (or two) parents, empowering them through music. Meeting Heavenly Hiraani Tigerlily Hutchence Yates and Frances Bean Cobain in rehab (once again taking the rap for William) will change his life. Knowing that 'art is the only real drug' Harry will use his considerable funds to finance the girls post-post electro grunge outfit - Children Of The Fallen (COTF). Casting himself as artistic director and Sean Lennon as producer, the bands first single will be titled - "Daddy, Why'd Ya Do What Ya Did?" Their album, simply titled Y will go platinum and the cover, designed by Prince Harry, will be heralded by Rolling Stone Magazine as a triumph in post-it modernism.

Claire's SMS

Just received this text from Claire - theres some writings @ my place let yourselves in I need some space

Thursday, September 09, 2004

emu

Good Vibrations For Prince Harry

Lately I have been feeling a lot of energy from Prince Harry and I'm tapping into it. His journey will be a difficult one as he will have to carry his older brother (and his secrets). But it is his keen interest in the arts that will see him rise above it and step into his truth. It is his destiny to become the Patron Prince Of The 'Nanny Generation'. I don't really know what that means; the words just came.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Truth Behind Purana Delays

The Victorian public have been fed a lie by Purana Taskforce. The whole drug-squad corruption thing is a smokescreen; the truth is, key evidence has been destroyed. Shortly before he was put down, Benji was entrusted with vital documents pertaining to The West Sunshine criminal portfolio. Whilst concealing bugs in his home, Purana detectives discovered a suspect mound in the rear left-hand corner of Benji's backyard. The stench of decaying flesh further raised their suspicion. The younger members - who always like to do things 'by the book' - were keen to call in Homicide, but the excitable Sergeant grabbed a nearby shovel and started digging. He uncovered not a body, but several large marrow bones, some old tennis balls, and the chewed remains of the West Sunshine documents. Recognising their significance, the Sergeant put them in plastic bags and sent them off for forensic. The report came back: the mauling of the documents had been so severe, the pieces left provided no conclusive evidence.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Bytes From Table 301

Once again we are delighted to be privy to some scorching (and highly sensitive) information. In the early hours of this morning we received an urgent call from our friend in surveillance (no name). He was begging to come over to our office at The Righi Cafe in the Car Park Arcade, Malvern. He said he had some audio that we "had to hear". As it was 5am we agreed to meet him in three hours time 'cos The Righi doesn't open till 8.
At precisely 8.01am, our friend (no name) burst through the door, ordering a cappaccino on his way to our table. Slamming down his iPod, he looked at us all wild-eyed, trembling with silent excitement. Offering us a headphone each, he pressed play. The following is what we heard:

*General restaurant sounds: plates, glasses, conversations etc* Waiter: Hello Mr Gatto. The usual? Table 301?
Mick: Yes
*footsteps* Acquaintance #1: Hi Mick!
Mick: Hi.
*footsteps*
Acquaintance #2: Mick, hi.
*sound of backs being patted*
Mick: Good to see you.
Acquaintance #3: G'day Mick.
*sound of handshake*
Mick: Ciao.
Enemy: Hello Dominic.
Mick: Get out of my office.
*sound of gun cocking* *footsteps, running* *sounds of Mick sitting down - chairs, tummy rumbling*
Waitress: The usual, sir?
Mick: No thanks, just a Caesar Salad today.
*sounds of footsteps, trotting*
Benji: Hi buddy.
Mick: Hello stranger.
*sounds of panting*
Waitress: Would your friend like a bowl of water? *whispers* He's got beautiful markings.
Mick: He'll be right. *to Benji* Have you eaten?
Benji: No, Carl's on a diet which pretty much means I'm on a diet too.
Mick: Atkins?
Benji: Nah, The Zone.
Mick: You must be really hungry then, my friend.
Benji: *sniffs* Yeah.
Mick: Well, I've just been to the butcher and he gave me a special treat for you...lots of marrow for a shiny coat!
Benji: *excitedly* That'd be great, mate!
*sounds of chairs pushing out, footsteps, trotting* *slam of back door, silence for 30 seconds*
Benji: Where's my bone, Mick?
*yelping, three gun shots*


Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Another Incredible Story About Claire

Claire comes from a long line of Seers. The ‘gift’ has been in Claire’s family for 4000 years. Her ancestors came to Australia on some of the first ships. One lady was known as The Compass and according to Claire’s family tree it was The Compass who found Australia for Captain Cook.


Monday, August 30, 2004

About Claire Voyant

Claire has been our Guide for a number of years. Her readings have been instrumental in all the decisions we make, from selling shares to the colour scheme of our blog. Claire sees her forecasting talents as a sacred gift so she would never use them for financial gain. We noticed early on that her mystical expertise gravitated to the more prominent members of society. Way before Milli Vanilli were exposed Claire was sure "those boys were not singing those songs". Before we knew the author had made it all up Claire told us how she had experienced headaches and dizzy spells whilst trying to read The Hand That Signed The Paper. When news broke of the Michael Hutchence/Paula Yates Affair Claire sent us an email saying she had a bad feeling about 'those two". Clearly our friend Claire is extraordinarily gifted.

Given Claire's obvious connection with those in the limelight we are proud to have her contribute to our blog, occasionally and when it comes.


Friday, August 27, 2004

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Harry Sweeps Up After Billy

We are right-royally shocked! Our sources on the ground in the UK have informed us that Prince Harry is NOT a pothead: it is William. It all began with William's first year of his Arts Degree at St Andrews, and his introduction to Kate 'The Bud' Middleton. It seems the secrecy surrounding their relationship has more to it than avoiding tabloid interest in their love-life. Kids on campus refer to him as His Royal HIGHness Prince Billy, and the word is, he and The Bud are always holding the best gear. Their secret was safe until term break and Billy's return to St James Palace.

Royal aides became increasingly exasperated by his lounge-lizardry. Billy would spend days and nights slumped in a Chesterfield, red-eyed and playing PlayStation. On the day of Trooping the Colour Harry received a call from the Page of the Back Stairs. Several aides had been trying to coax the Future King into getting dressed for the ceremony. Billy was refusing to get out of his tracky and was insisting he be left alone to finish his level on Medal of Honour. Ever the dutiful Spare, Harry went to speak with his brother. After a good half hour of trying to persuade Billy to come and watch Granny take her salute, Harry realised that his efforts were in vain. As he left the smoke-filled room, he turned to the heir and asked one more time if he would come with him. Slit-eyed with drooping jowls, Billy replied "Maybe later".

At the Trooping, some friendly paparazzi approached Harry and asked him of his brother's whereabouts. Looking distracted and reeking of Billy's cannabis, Harry muttered that William wasn't feeling well. The bemused press assumed that the Spare, with his paranoid eyes and suspect odour, was the smoker. And Harry Pothead was born.

Friday, August 20, 2004

Mob Lingo #2

The Slot...



...maximum security wing of Barwon Prison.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Zhao Bandi is a Surrealist

Mob Lingo #1

tropical...




hot and under investigation

Saturday, August 14, 2004

Simon Overland's Lament

I see you in my dreams



My baby faced Soprano


Playing with your



Puppy in the surf



I hear your cries



"No Jason" "No Jason"



I hear your lies



"Not Jason" "Not Jason"




Mr Williams



Let me sleep



Signor Williams




Bring the peace



This feud



This war



Don Carlo



The truth



Must come out

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Melanie Griffith Is Wise

Whenever we have a blue day, Melanie gives us shelter. She comforts us in our darkest of hours. Like the many who seek Melanie's counsel through her message board we recognise and admire her gritty determination to triumph over adversity - she's made it from Don Johnson (twice) to Antonio Banderas - from alcohol to prescriptions, and she is still the same fresh-faced lass from Working Girl. When we are time poor and need to fast track an issue (which has been a lot lately due to recent events on the Gold Coast) we'll pop into Mel's Dream Room to heal with her tried and tested techniques:

When I have questions in my life I look to my inner conscience for answers. Whether it’s how to portray a character or how to deal with a crisis in my life, I’ve been lucky to be able to find guidance from within. Because it has been such an incredible gift in my life, I would like to pass it on to you…Before you go to bed at night write to your inner self a letter asking for answers to be revealed to you about something that you need help with. What you seek may come to you in a dream, or the answer may develop first subconsciously and then just take place in your conscious life.

Below is one letter I use:


Dear Inner Self,
If it is your will, please reveal to me
in a dream tonight the secret of my success
in order to become closer to you.

With love and respect,
-Melanie

Here is a letter for you to use:

Dear Inner Self,
If it is your will, please reveal to me
in a dream tonight the positive way to (insert problem here)
in order to become closer to you.

With love and respect,
(Insert your name)




Thank-you Melanie.
With love and respect,
punk and blanket


Monday, August 02, 2004

Seeking Closure

We need help. And the sooner the better. Friends have sneered at us at dinner parties when we question the Gretel and Saxon 'friendship'. Our peers have branded us as conservative and that really hurts. Our feminist wimmin friends point out that if Gretel were a man, no-one would question it. We didn't know feminism covered pouncing on children. Does that mean Michael Jackson is a feminist? On top of all of this, 'the visions' won't go away. In fact, they are more frequent and more terrifying than ever. We have begun counselling, and in group the other day Courtney suggested we confront our fears. She says we are projecting our ageist ideals onto Gretel and Saxon and that the reason why stems from events in our early childhood. It could even have been something in utero. It became clear that we had to see the couple with our own eyes. So we went to the Final Eviction After Party.

The party was really out of it. We tried to distance ourselves from Trevor and Breea because all of that 'I love you' stuff was getting out of hand. Gretel and Saxon were keeping pretty much to themselves. Everyone around us was saying how happy they look together. A former contestant remarked that Gretel's perfect for Saxon because 'no-one understands what it's like to be in the Big Brother House'. By the end of the night we were somewhat more at ease. Gretel and Saxon are just like any other couple who enjoy spas and eggs benedict for brunch. Saxon's mother was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling relieved and politically correct we wandered back to our room at Palazzo Versace. We ordered some coffee to drink with our pillow mints. We were watching cable and it was some time after midnight when the room went dark and cold. A strange glow emanated from the television and it was hissing. All of a sudden it came alive with the following digitally enhanced horror:

Gretel is in labour. She looks like she's been there for sometime. Her Russian hair extensions are ragged and a couple of them have fallen on the floor. Saxon is crying floods of tears which is making Gretel angry. Saxon pulls himself together and stands behind his lady. As Gretel makes her final push Saxon's mum crashes through the birth canal, landing feet first at the end of the bed.

Our counselling continues.



Friday, July 23, 2004

Urgent Plea

STOP! ENOUGH!
POSH
STOP! NOW!
KYLIE
STOP! ENOUGH!
GUY RITCHIE
STOP! NOW!
GWYNETH
STOP! ENOUGH!
sam newman
STOP! NOW!
DON BURKE
STOP! ENOUGH!
KARL LAGERFELD
STOP! NOW!
DANNI
STOP! ENOUGH!
JUSTIN
PLEASE!





Secret Prison Tapes

We are in a highly excited state. We have in our hands a tape secreted from Port Philip Prison. The tape contains conversations between the Armed Robber and Matthew Wales that form the basis of the as yet unpublished book "Matthew: Dark Prince Of Wales" (working title). The first part of the tape is a bit boring, it's just Matt going on about his bad childhood. It starts to get interesting when Matt links hairdressing with the murders. We had to re-wind that bit. Unbelievably he is telling the Armed Robber that there are pressure points on the back of the head that can trigger death. He learnt this in 'Shampoo, Conditioning and Head Massage' during his hairdressing apprenticeship. The interview comes to an abrupt ending with the sounds of Paul Denyer's hairdryer being run up and down the bars. He is demanding Matthew give him a blow wave.

Friday, July 16, 2004

I just woke from this nightmare

I am having brunch with Gretel and Saxon. Saxon's Eggs Benedict are delicious, a recipe he has learned from Nigella. Gretel looks languid. She is wearing a petticoat and high heels. After brunch I leave the couple alone doing the dishes. Suddenly, the sounds of a vicious argument come from the kitchen. I can hear raised voices and smashing plates. Saxon is vehemently denying ever having stained the Peugeot's seats with baby oil and talcum powder. I hear him stamping his feet. Just as I am about to call her, Saxon's mum crashes through the door, screaming at Saxon to go to his room. Crying, he runs to his room and slams the door, shouting that he hates us all.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

More terrifying visions...

I'm lost in the Gold Coast hinterland. It is dark and I am running. My mobile phone has no signal. I am in a frenzy. In the distance I can hear running water and a strange whirring sound, not unlike that of cog-wheels in constant motion. I surge forward through the bracken into a clearing. Through the chlorinated mist I can just make out two naked bodies lowering themselves into a bubbling spa. I'm not sure, but I think I can see the silhouette of a pacifier protruding from the male figures mouth. I inch closer, squinting in an effort to get a better view. When I am approximately 5 metres away, I recognise them: it is Gretel and Saxon. I am badly shaken and reach for my Xanax, but another vision, more frightening than the last, causes me to drop my tablets onto the mossy ground. To the couple's left Saxon's mum is astride a pedal-powered outdoor generator. She pedals furiously, periodically dipping her elbow into the spa, monitoring the water temperature.

Big Brother Botches Bree's Boot-off

According to BB central, Bree was wrongly evicted and has since been reinstated as an official housemate (HM). It is with some suspicion that punk and blanket observe these happenings.

Is it really possible that a reputable and sound company like Legion Interactive has made such a mistake? We know ratings have been low this year, Big Brother, and we fear that the show may be suffering from the publicity surrounding Gretel Killeen's relationship with former contestant Daniel "Saxon" Small. These rumours are particularly alarming given the couple's musical aspirations. The whole Gretel/Saxon phenomenon has disturbed us greatly. Over the years we have watched Gretel shine, mesmerised by her razor-sharp wit and bedazzled by her sometimes curious costumes. Phrases like "I hope I look that good when I'm her age" have been known to spew from our mouths. Our image is imploding. We are woken during the night with frightening visions such as this:


'Gretel and Saxon are lying in Gretel's bed, the breeze gently blowing through her open window. Just as she is about to join Saxon for another 'coupling' Saxon's Mummy pops her henna'd head through the window. She wants to know if her little boy would like some bircher muesli and some fresh nappies.'

Monday, July 05, 2004

Mission Beach

This blog is dedicated to the Founding Fathers of Surrealism.

It is our mission to comment on events in popular culture.

We are against the notion of 'celebrity' - we believe it to be an unsavoury phenomenon that is threatening to destroy the civilised and 'uncivilised' worlds. Celebrity has infected all walks of life and is playing havoc with the minds of the young and the restless. We will be tracking the media and highlighting the transgressions of those who have lost themselves in a wash of self aggrandisement though the misuse of infamy. We will celebrate those who handle notoriety with grace.

We are already known on a particular forum as muckrakers however we feel that the commercial interests of the unsaid forum impeded our work as we were banned several times because our work was incomprehensible to them.



Manifesto

Our manifesto has already been written.
Here it is