Turkey Of The Year 2008

And the nominees are........

Carved Turkey - Sam Newman - for his operating theatre performance featuring Turkey Spotter Eddie Maguire in a shower cap.

Turkey Spotter - Eddie Maguire - so proud of his (un)dressed turkey's 60 minutes.

Crack Turkey - Wayne Carey

Turkey Disney - Terri 'themepark' Irwin

Bad Turkey - Brendan Nelson on Sorry Day

Flaming Turkeys - Text Publishing, David Marr & Bill Henson

Treacherous Turkey - Baz Luhrmann

Turkey In The Headlights - Jodhi Meares

Dressed Turkey - Sarah Palin

Crumbed Turkey - Gordon Ramsay

Baz Luhrmann auditioning the part of Leading Lady in His movie He called Australia.

What About David?

Well there's a little boy waiting in the shadows of the Kabbalah

He's been waiting down there, waiting like a prayer

He never ever goes to the milk bar

He gets flown around, bought by the pound

He's not allowed to eat meat and he thinks

What about me, it isn't fair

I can't stand my nannies' stare

Can't you see I wanna live

But you just take more than you give

Well there's a strange lady dancing wildly in the stadium

He's been waiting back there, waiting for his beans

Nannies walk in and out, they're not his mum

Well we're not too proud to cry out loud

We watch the tv and we ask

What about Dave? It isn't fair

We can't stand the Granny's stare

Can't you see he wants to live

But she just takes more than she gives

Stolen

We are the victims of identity theft. Recently it has come to light that two people are posing as punk & blanket in order to judge a local poetry competition. Apparently, this had been going on for two years. They have even hacked into our site and planted the competition under our 'Gigs' section. They have done something to it that stops us from deleting it. These rumours sent us into a spin so we decided to stalk the imposters. We researched them on myspace and facebook and even went to the poetry competition's grand final to see them in real life. We were unimpressed; they're not our kind of people. Our sartorial integrity was at stake. We didn't know what to do. How could we stop this ongoing theft when no-one knows who we are? In order to stop them we would be forced to reveal our true identities. Then what kind of superheroes would we be?

As always in times of trouble, we sought an audience with Claire. She's been a bit withdrawn lately. Ever since her arch nemesis Charmaine won The One: The Search for Australia's Most Gifted Psychic, Claire has been pale, withdrawn and insecure about her Gift. Luckily, practical advice was all we were after. Claire's had some experience dealing with identity theft when an impersonator was draining Dodi al Fayad's credit card. We explained our predicament and initially Claire looked aprehensive and took a deep look into the fridge door. Then she said "Well, what is identity?" She entered into a full examination of what identity means. A lot of it we didn't understand as it was pretty technical stuff. We drifted off and settled into our listening faces. Our ears pricked up when Bill Henson's name was mentioned in connection with Grayam. According to Claire, Grayam got really messed up with identity issues after posing topless for Bill in the eighties. When the picture's became really expensive, Grayam told everyone that Bill had stolen his identity. Claire said that even to this day, the Henson affair has damaged Grayam as he is supremely narcissistic and unable to differentiate image from reality.

This was all very well for Grayam, but we're under threat here. Our's is a different polemic. It is not imagined identity theft, it's real. Saying all this to Claire, she peered over her magnifiers and wide-eyed sans blinking, and goes "Yeah but, who are punk and blanket anyway?"

SORRY

The Evolution of Karl Lagerfeld

Disturbing Moments In Popular Culture

1. Troubled West Australian Liberal Leader sniffing a female colleague's recently vacated chair.

2. The aforementioned Liberal under suspicion of doing 'something inappropriate' to a quokka.



3. The front cover of Madonna's Hard Candy.

4. The sad eyes of the unsmiling Suri Cruise.

5. Heather Mills.

6. The 60 Minutes vision of Sam Newman's diseased prostate on the end of a surgical implement.

7. Gender is no barrier for Thomas Beatie and Nicole Kidman who against all odds and nature fall pregnant.

8. Mick Gatto in the boxing ring with the guy who played him in Underbelly.

9. Yoko Ono's breast pride.

10. Nicole Kidman winning an Oscar for best 'actress'.

Seven Children's Wear Boutiques In One Strip

Yesterday in the Hawksburn Village, Toorak, we were victims of parent rage. Talking on our phones we didn't notice that our Staffordshire Terrier familiar was sniffing the heels of a small child dressed in a tutu and carrying a wand. Our conversations were interrupted by the penetrating shrillness of a South Eastern Suburb's Mother shielding her young. "That dog needs training" "That dog needs training". We told her to chill. He doesn't bite. Then she screeched, "If my child squeals he'll kill her". We said no he won't. She said,

"He will, I can see it in his eyes".



Panda B. (bandit) is a darling and a gangsta rapper but he is so not a killer. Then she starts on about reporting us to the council. We try to avert her procedural gaze but everywhere we turn we see children in designer fancy dress. Spooky girls holding red devil umbrellas and little boys dressed as Fiona Scanlan's 'big' sailors. We didn't mean to hurt her but we snapped and slapped her clean across the snout.

Panda B. (Bandit) in an Onion Trance

The Wayne Carey Crimp

for Noel & Julian

grabbing tits
was my life
then I sauced
me best mate's
wife

GLASS THE BITCH
GLASS THE BITCH
GLASS THAT BITCH

they sprayed mace
in me face
tied me up
like a mental
case

GLASS THE BITCH
GLASS THE BITCH
GLASS THAT BITCH

went to Koh Samui
just to be me
took the bitch
in case I
itch

GLASS THAT BITCH

Mr Mom?

We were in Hanoi on an extended break, fresh from our viewing of Uncle Ho (aka The Green Man), when a text came through from our tribal lands: 'We have so much to discuss. Heath is dead. Nic is pregnant.'

We hastened to the nearest temple* to catch BBC World. It was true. Nicole Kidman was claiming to be pregnant. We were so blown away because we have told all of our friends - and even people who are not our friends - that Nicole Kidman does not have a womb and she has never had a period in her life! What were we going to do? It meant we looked like we didn't know what we were talking about! Stunning.

We used up all of our dong calling medical authorities in Sydney and Melbourne, only to learn that they were as perplexed as we were.

Then we heard that Mr Kidman (Daddy, not Keith), an engineer and psychologist by trade, will deliver the baby 'at home' and we thought, shouldn't a 41 year old 'woman' with her obstetric history and money be having her first born in the finest birthing suite, attended by actual doctors? And what's with having your Dad deliver your baby? Sick.

Our long standing claim found corroboration in the Korean Job Discussion Forum. All we can say is there must be a prosthesis and a spooky baby machine sister involved. Scary family.



*newsagent/source

And The Winner Is.................................

....................................................Peter Garrett

Turkey of the Year 2007..... & the Nominees are:

Turkey Fool - Simone Warne
Pretentious Sci-Fi Turkey - Jamie Packer and that fuckin' wedding.
Real-Life Turkey - Mark Philippoussis
Small Turkey Syndrome - John Howard
Turkey Chick - Bindi Irwin
"Clean" Turkey - Phil Jamieson on Enough Rope
Turkey For Sale - Peter Garrett

Punted By The Mask

We're still recovering from election night over at our friend Footballer (no name)'s house in Brighton. It was the dawning of a new era and a night of revelations that left us questioning our ability to read people. Kaet (not her real name), Footballer (no name)'s wife, has always been like a sister to us, but that night she was a stranger.

Always the great hostess Kaet had driven all the way to Prahran Market to get some mini Kosher hot dogs. She served them with buttered, crustless white bread and off the shelf tomato sauce jazzed up with some of Maggie Beer's Verjuice. But something was amiss that night. Whenever we made witty and insightful remarks about the tally room coverage, Footballer (no name) would piss himself laughing and she would look at us blankly and say, "That's the funniest thing I've ever heard". After this happened a few times we began to feel insecure, like she thought we were idiots or something. Whenever Footballer (no name) wasn't in the room it was really awkward because she'd bring up 'her feelings' about 'her marriage'. This was very confusing because she said she'd been really depressed and anxious but to us she was looking better than ever! When we're depressed we don't look good at all so we quickly became suspicious. Maybe she wasn't down, maybe she was setting a trap, maybe she was testing to see if we have designs on her husband. It's true, one of us was in a spa with Footballer (no name) early on in our friendship, but we've moved on from that, and so has he.

By the time Troubled Footballer (no name) came over, just before Mr Howard surrendered, we were so removed from our instincts we had to remind each other to blink. Out of control, we assumed Troubled Footballer (no name)'s arrogance was drug induced and not a symptom of self doubt. We heard him on his mobile saying he wanted a kitchen he could cook in and thought he was talking to The Coffin Cheaters but it turned out that he was discussing his renovation. After Kevin claimed victory Footballer (no name) muted the sound and stood in front of the TV. He asked us to charge our glasses for a nation that could now play by Australian Rules. Kaet sits there looking completely chilled and then we see a solitary tear slide down her wax like face. Troubled Footballer (no name) starts to weep silently. His frequent hard swallows and the famous snap of the Kosher hot dogs we were nervously eating the only sounds in a tense room. Footballer (no-name), who has a problem with public displays of emotion, leaves the room and we back out after him. We find him on the deck, hand balling a footy against the wall and ask him why his wife is so distant and why the hell does he have a drug addict coming down in his lounge room. Footballer (no name) goes, 'She's had botox and he's grieving for Deceased Footballer (no name)'.

So Long Hedi

After a couple of wonderful months we've had to let our tapeworm go. It's been such a gas having him on the inside, but Hedi exists in his own right. In a way it's been too good with us, we've been catering to his every whim. He's got to realise his full potential as a parasite and move on to more character building hosts. Let's take several minutes to relive our journey with Hedi to the tunes of Sir Elton John...

Panda B. (Bandit) Listening to His Masters Voice

Panda B. (bandit) is in a very strange mood

Inpatients

Because of Claire and some of our other friends, we've checked ourselves into the Eating Disorder Unit at the Melbourne Clinic. They all suspect our tapeworm is a symptom of some kind of eating disorder, but we've just got a tapeworm so that we can keep eating. Life's too sort to stop eating. We know we got caught up in thinspiration with Karl Lagerfeld, but if anything his food has propelled us in the opposite direction. Food is great. We love food. And so does our 'friend on the inside', Hedi.

We've had our worm for a few months now and we're spending a fortune at the supermarket. It's great! You can eat whatever you want, at anytime and not put on one gram. This is really confusing for the other inmates. The anas and the mias stand there (always standing - it burns more calories) whilst we relax on the couch feasting on sausage rolls and sponge cakes. They follow us to restrooms to see if we throw up, but Hedi never lets that happen. He's an insatiable parasite.

To tell the truth we don't connect with the ED Crowd, they're always telling each other how beautiful and slim they are whilst swapping lollypops. The lollypop thing is really weird, they lick the lolly (strictly one lick, no swallow) and then stick on a cut out picture of their favourite thinspiration girls - pink for Mary-Kate, lemonade for Allegra Beck and orange for Nicole Richie. These skinny girls spook everyone out, every day there are different registered nurses. We've started to hang with the patients from the other wards. One of our bi-polar friends is of Italian heritage (second generation) and his family bring in huge hampers of the best smallgoods.

Letter To All Friends of Punk and Blanket re Their Condition From Claire Voyant

Hello all,

The last time I saw punk and blanket I was in a hypertensive state because I was being forced to eat my lunch with Karl Lagerfeld's compact disc album playing. They were taking this Karl Lagerfeld diet thing a bit far at that stage, I would even say it was borderline hero worship. They showed me what they called an 'installation', but it was clearly an altar (pictured below).






Since that day I've only been communicating via text message with punk und blanket, as they are calling themselves these days. Their messages are random accounts of calorie burning, spinning classes and German style boot camps or invitations to go over for 'bowls' (always plural) of Karl's Lemon Soup. Last night after my evening Baileys and last ciggie, I saw it all as I stared into the fridge door. There they were, out the back of Melbourne's Watergrill restaurant, scavenging through the scraps of Sir Bert Newton's seafood, and I knew then what they were up to. They were angling for a tapeworm. Not only are they deifying a rubber man but they have succumb to the lazy persons idea of weight loss. I have seen their future and it's not nice. They hold a Naming Ceremony for their tapeworm in the park over the road from their house (because of the malnutrition, this is the greatest distance they can travel) and they call it Hedi. Hedi Slim-man.


For further information on tapeworms, go to: http://www.parasitecleanse.com/fishtapeworms.htm

Our Karl Lagerfeld Diet Luncheon

Our luncheon was a huge success. It was a glorious autumnal day in Melbourne and our guests were delighted with the recipes, particularly the lemon soup, the pizza and the creamed cucumber. The eggplant and pink grapefruit dish was left untouched as it was inedible. Only one hiccup arose during the course of the day and it happened when we put on Karl's new CD release, Karl Lagerfeld Les Musiques Que J’aime. This had an extremely adverse effect on the atmosphere. The industrially inspired tunes, a sound favored by many people of German extraction, resulted in our guests showing signs of acute acoustic trauma and some of our older guests like Claire began to experience rising blood pressure. When some of them threatened to leave the premises we knew we had to push the stop button. Later that evening we decided to sell the CD on ebay as we too have difficulty with Karl's musical choices, especially as it was daring us to defy Karl's strict two glasses of red wine policy. We're very surprised as we had been lead to believe that Karl has a vast music collection and that he owns 10 ipods with 80 gigabytes each. Our hearts go out to Karl as he is obviously trying very hard to appreciate music but unfortunately we feel he will never get it because from the evidence available it seems Karl has no sense of rhythm or beauty when it comes to music. One of our guests remarked that maybe Karl should smoke marijuana as it could assist him to tune in.