Conceited crowe - Talk About Lovin' Himself!

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The Little Dano-Australian Prince

We are sick to death of the blubbering Prince Frederick of Denmark, his wife Mary (a former Australian) and their spawn. Mary has always really annoyed us, especially now that she speaks with that accent. She's been at us for months about having dinner with Bernard Fanning but we don't know Bernard Fanning so we can't help her. We thought they were friends seeing as he played at her wedding festivities in Copenhagen. And besides, even if we were friends with Bernard Fanning, we would not be introducing them because she is actually a creepy girl and he is so innocent (apparently).

We don't understand why Fred and Mary are going on about raising the child themselves, beginning with him sleeping one metre from their bed, when most parents we know would be going: "you live live in a bloody palace, you've got heaps o' cash and servants, get a nanny and give the kid his own room". Likewise we fail to comprehend the hysteria that has lead to widespread pyromania as Australians light bonfires all along our shores, apeing an ancient Danish ritual. Our drought stricken land could easily erupt in flames and burn. We find this careless and anachronistic, if millions were to lose their homes and lives in bushfires we think the couple should accept some responsibility.

At this point we think it relevant to mention that Fred used to go out with Morgan Fairchild.

Smoking Is Good

Because of smoking we get more breaks at work.

Because of smoking we have reason to leave rooms with children in them.

Because of smoking people know we are cool, so we don't have to try.

Because of smoking we get to sit outside at restaurants.

Because of smoking we laughed so hard with Mick Jagger we forgot (for a nanosecond) that he was famous.

Because of smoking we had sex with a waste management entrepreneur.

Because of smoking we met Jack Elliott and he invited us to lunch at his penthouse and asked us not to wear underwear.

Smoking is good.

The Daily Activities of Panda B. (Bandit) & His Master

Panda B. (Bandit) and His Master



Fetching the paper



Keeping up with global events



Out for a walk



His Master's frequent toilet stops frustrate Panda B. (Bandit)



Exercising off leash

A Footballer's Anguish

Footballer (no name) came round to see us this afternoon. He wanted to talk about Pip, and Claire had referred him to us. He was unshaven and looked emotionally dehydrated so we offered him a refreshing cup of Rooibos tea with lemon and ginger. He said it wasn't his kind of thing and asked us if there was anything he could put his single serve sachet of protein powder in, so we whipped up a double egg banana soy smoothie. He poured the drink down his throat and looked expectantly towards us with his empty glass, so we made him a second one, throwing in an extra egg because he didn't have another sachet. Whilst he was digesting he sat quietly on the couch patting our Staffordshire Terrier with calm, long strokes. When he finally spoke he did so without stopping.

His affair with Phillipa began with a chance meeting at an opening at Collins 234 (The Place Where It's At!). He didn't really want to go because he's not interested in shopping but he was contractually obliged to attend. He didn't like the way the creative team who wrote the slogan "The Place Where It's At' were so full of themselves, cos anyone could have written that. He also thought the tram ads with the raven on the model's arm were both uninspired and misleading. We strongly agreed with Footballer (no name) as we too had been fooled by the false promises of that advertising campaign. He got talking to Phillipa and she invited him back to her gallery. She asked him to drive her Jeep as she was over the limit. Phillippa wasted no time seducing Footballer (no name) by disrobing in front of the Brett Whiteley's and pouring her glass of Chardonnay down her bosom, begging him to 'take' her. Intrigued by her mature sexuality Footballer (no name) gave in to his urges.

It's been going on now for a month, at first he thought she was really classy and he enjoyed her dirty sms's, even joining in her fairytale role playing, but now he's a bit grossed out. Sometimes he used to catch her staring at him and think it was lovely but then he started waking in the night to find her sitting on the bed looking down upon him, like he was in a manger, and that made things uncomfortable. Lately he's been feeling that Pip is more into Footballer (no name), the sport star, than Footballer (no name), the person. She always introduces him as a footballer and he's starting to think he could be any footballer or soccer player, or at least a tennis player. His Mum had warned him about women like this when he first got famous. The coach has had a word with him about that woman in robes who keeps hanging round the training sessions, and his manager has pressured him to keep his affairs quiet as he is a more bankable star when the ladies think he's single.

Footballer (no name) asked our advice on gently letting Pip go. For a moment we wondered if we should be circumspect but we couldn't be bothered, we hate Pip. We told him not to worry about being gentle, she was two-timing him with the raven wielding boy from the tram. Footballer (no name) was shocked as he'd met Grayam at the Collins 234 opening and had assumed he was Pip's son. No, we told him, handing him another vanilla slice, he's her lover, her toy boy, her Ashton.

crowe Impersonates Christ

russell crowe handed out lyric books to the audience at his 'sell out' (all 160 tickets went!) performance to promote his solo album. The New Zealander told his congregation to consider them 'hymn books', possibly spelt 'Him'.

If russell is at all sensitive to 'signs' then the vision of his laughing son would surely indicate that his religious path is Buddhism.



The Laughing Charlie

Sorry Steve

One Big Pig
Stole A Show
And Did TV
Trying To Pretend
He Wasn’t Greedy

One Big Pig
Tried To Eat
The State Crockery
Calling The Breaks
His Heartfelt Charity

One Big Pig
More And More
Still Not Enough
Got Caught Stealing
Going Got Tough

One Big Pig
Says He’s Sorry
Deeply Deeply Sorry




Disgraced Melbourne businessman steve vizard straining to smile at Melbourne Airport.

Sandwich

The lunch at The Botanical™ really shook us up. Our thoughts were in a whirl. Ever since Pip came along there's been this tension between her and us and now she is coming between us and Claire, helped along by that little poser Grayam. We can handle being around dicks like Pip but when it threatens our relationship with our medium we lose our cool, hence the inbox incident. Claire is everything to us, she's the reason we are so successful, she's our Paul Burrell, our rock! We love her and feel confident that when we die she won't write books about us. What made us really mad was the fact that somehow we were being made to feel that we should have informed Claire about something that was Pip and Grayam's business. We were the meat in the sandwich.

We didn't have any Xanax left as we have been handing them out to our friends in stock broking who are afraid of psychiatrists. In situations like these we find active meditation is the only way to relax, dolphin sounds and breathing do nothing for this type of pathology, so we started to arrange our CD's into the Dewey Decimal Classification System. We kept getting distracted by playing various sad tracks from Claire's favourite and least favourite acts, like Sinead O'Connor and The Smiths respectively. Tears streamed down our cheeks two lines into Nothing Compares 2 U, by the second verse we were down on bended knees before Claire's photograph on our altar. Shaking from the uncontrollable sobs we embraced in an attempt to earth ourselves. Delirious with sorrow we found ourselves in the bathroom, razors in hand, about to shave our heads when something (probably an unseen force) brought us out of it and suddenly that unopened letter from Sir Elton possessed us. We dropped our razors and with shaving cream in our hair we raced to the studio to open it.

We had assumed it was the wedding invitation but seeing the secret address still shocked us. We shared a herbal cigarette and discussed our issues with Sir Elton. It was only this week we'd seen the pictures of Sir Elton's White Tie and Tiara Ball, which showed his impropriety. In the climate of Live 8, David and Elton curiously chose an African theme, which involved the use of wildlife (zebra, gorilla's, giraffes etc) and desserts of chocolate huts with coconut roofs. Apart from the immorality of the celebrities eating the homes of African villagers, it is outrageously wasteful as most of the party goers were thinner than the folk living in the huts - Liz Hurley wouldn't have touched it and Eva Herzigova gave hers to the giraffes - although Linda Evangelista and Diana Ross did share a coconut roof. As Australians we're wondering what it is with these affluent Britons and their African themes? This sort or thing really stirs our inner-communist and we'll need to decide if we will forgive Sir Elton his trespasses.

Sustaining and juggling friendships in this day and age is difficult and sometimes it can become overwhelming. We just want harmony with others but we felt broken, the shattered pieces of our confidence floating weightless around the room. Fatigue began to set in and we slept fitfully, waking each other up with our screams, finding ourselves still on the couch bathed in our own sweat. If Claire hadn't texted us then and there we don't know what would have become of us. Her message was simple - my anger this afternoon was misdirected sorry love you claire x. The relief was amazing, we were new people, and we were free.

CHOCO SHOCKO



DAVID AND SIR ELTON'S PARTY SAFARI




COCONUT ISN'T FATTENING




VICKY BECKHAM WITH APE

No Future For Grayam

As Pip has been on our backs about wanting to say sorry to Claire we arranged a reconciliation lunch at The Botanical Hotel™ in South Yarra. We've been quite apprehensive as Claire still doesn't know that Grayam and Pip are an item, nor is she aware of Grayam's burgeoning modeling career and she's going through one of her really intense anti-male-model cycles. Going out with Claire in winter is usually a pain because she smokes and we have to sit outside, but global warming has it's benefits as today was another summer's day in July.

Pip was only five minutes late but very apologetic and tried to reassure us that her and Steve Vizard were only acquaintances and that her shares in those businesses were a gift from her grandparents. We didn't know Pip knew the disgraced Steve Vizard, and we don't know him either so it was all a bit weird. We have little to no interest in finance. Whatever Pip!

The lunch went well with Pip impressing Claire with her direct apology, looking Claire straight in the eye. They were friends again by entree (Six freshly shucked Tasmanian oysters, properly garnished) and we all had a cheery conversation about the controversial contestants on Big Brother. It was the first time we were able to partake in the subject without having flashbacks so we were pretty jolly too. We overlooked the constant message alert beep of Pip's mobile phone and her frequent trips to the Botanical Wine Wall™ because she kept bringing back killer bottles of New Zealand white, and she was paying the bill. It started to get nerve-racking when the name Grayam fell from Pip's lips, like every few sentences. By the time we'd had our main course (Miso caramelised Patagonian toothfish with fried oysters, crab & seaweed salad) it became apparent that Pip had been seeing Grayam for sometime and we hadn't told Claire. Our paranoia was unfounded as Claire seemed okay with it, she's progressive in that old school way. Just as we started to relax Pip screeched "The Tram!, The Tram!" as Grayam's stupid pouting face one and a half metres high on the side of the Number 8 passed by. Claire stiffened in her chair whilst Pip who seemed oblivious skipped off to the Wine Wall™ again. Her face redden and as tight lipped as Arki Busson with tears welling in her eyes Claire looked at us and said, "My grandson is a model and you didn't think it important enough to tell me. Grayam has no future". Sobbing, she got up and left taking one of the Botanical™'s linen napkins with her. We were shaken but clear headed enough to tell the waiter to charge the napkin to Pip's account because stealing is wrong. While we were waiting for our dessert (24crt gold leaf Valhrona chocolate nemesis with wood roasted, caramelised figs) Pip's phone beeped yet again. We know it is unethical to invade someone's privacy but curiousity and resentment got the better of us. The message read, "dear little red riding hood I want to eat your basket of goodies love the big bad wolf", and it was from 'footballer'.

When Pip came back to the table she asked us where Claire was and we told her she had left because of the male model business. Breathing Malborough Sauvignon Blanc Pip starts yelling at us for not informing Claire of Grayam's rising star. We retaliated by asking her who 'footballer' aka Big Bad Wolf was. Silence engulfed the table as Pip gathered her luggage style handbag and cheese cutter hat. With nostrils flared and bulging eyes she spat, "Going through someone's inbox is the lowest of low. You two are nothing but self-righteous know-it-alls who live vicariously through your friends". She then left, leaving us the bill.



Grayam (centre, with raven) on the trouble causing tram

Click here to see the exciting Botanical™ Movie!

Surprise Invite

About a week ago an unmistakable envelope arrived in the post. We've seen that paper many times before. To appease guilt brought on by his endless consumption, Sir Elton John recycles his flowers into paper and, like his favourite late Princess, he loves a thank you note - not that we've gotten any since the scene on the Gold Coast earlier this year. The envelope has been sitting on our desk reeking of Sir Elton's custom made fragrance (a gift from David), all this time as we've been wrestling with our pride. We know it's The Wedding Invitation. We'd been expecting Sir Elton to extend an olive branch but we never thought David would let him invite us to the wedding. It's thrown us into emotional turmoil because to tell the truth, we buried that friendship long ago (something that was surprisingly easy to do with no counseling required) and now our ability to forgive is being challenged. On another level, we have been perplexed by Sir Elton publicly nuzzling around Sir Moses Geldof, promising to bring him the lamb of Pete Doherty.

Wanted: Carpenter After a Big Job

New Zealand's russell crowe recently asked one of our mates in carpentry to build the not-so-little Charlie Spencer Crowe's bedroom. He declined because the job was too big and he has no experience in barn construction. If anyone in the Coffs Harbour locale is after some long-term labour, we suggest you contact Nana Glen ASAP.

russell's vision for Charlie's space

Let's Play 6 Degrees of Desperation!

1. TOM CRUISE
disturbingly engaged to
2. KATIE HOLMES
who is 'saving herself' sexually 'till she's married, like
3. GUY SEBASTIAN
who won Australian Idol, judged by former one-hit wonder
4. MARK HOLDEN
who got bashed up by
5. TIM ROGERS
who said he'd rather slit his throat than be as hopeless and desperate as
6. INXS

Schapelle's Hotman

Hot Man
Gold Pistols
Mullet Hair
Make Sure
You Make
It Fair

Desperately Channeling Michael

Prayer For Michael (reprise)

michael,
say you didn't
touch the children.
oh mike,
say you didn't
touch them there
in Never Neverland
with your
never never hands
cos you know
its really,
really
bad.

Amen.

Originally posted July 2004

What Next For New Zealand's Mental Case?

The sun was going down and we had just thrown our russ-filled rocks into the sea (as per Claire's instructions - see previous post) when we heard the good news: russell crowe has finally been arrested in Manhattan. He chucked a phone at a hotel employee and lacerated the poor boy's face. Not convinced by russell yet again spinning his usual good husband/dad line - that his telephone call with 'his family' got interrupted - we called our friends at the NYPD. They surprisingly informed us the family angle was true and directed us to the Coffs Harbour Police, Local Area Command (also our mates) with whom they are conducting a joint investigation. The guys reckon that a long-winded conversation between Danielle and her husband drove the hungry and heavy-set Charles Spencer Crowe to gnaw through the telephone cord.

Cleansing Rituals For Anyone Who Has Been Exposed To My Hand My Heart By russell crowe

My Grandson Grayam recently returned from a weekend in Coffs Harbour. russell crowe invited him to his farm called Nana Glen; it seems russell wants him to play the 'young russell' in a film clip for his next single. Grayam just can't stop talking about russell, who gave him a swag (literally) of his latest album, My Hand My Heart. I got a special signed copy, Grayam said russell was quite insistent that I listen to it. To be honest I wasn't really interested but I played it as all things should be received with grace. Unfortunately, I had a negative and violent reaction, and I have only just come to. I was half way through the song called Worst In The World when I had to run to the bathroom where I vomited black wool for approximately 23 hours. In between bouts I lay on the cool tiles, sucking the moisture from a soggy towel. If you have any adverse side effects from this music I suggest you perform the following cleansing rituals to rid yourself of russell's woolly demons.


Smudging

Smudging can be used to eliminate negative energy fields from any technology involved, this includes computers, car stereos, ipods etc. (when cleansing your ipod it is imperative to run the battery down completely first). I like to use sage as it is good for banishing dark forces. I usually use Ceremonial White Sage, but garden sage works equally well. Work in one direction, spiraling to the centre using the classic Counter Clockwise Banishing Manoeuvre.



You can use a smudge stick. I prefer a small wad of the leaves. Carry a heatproof container (ashtray) in your left hand; the smudge in your right. If you use leaves or a smudge stick, knock the ashes off often, so you won't catch anything on fire (avoid nylon garments). It's a good idea to keep a container of water close by, just in case.

For severe contamination bury your technology under a pile of your favourite CD's (original, not pirates) on the eve of a full moon night. Retrieve on the following half moon.


Self Purification Ritual

Using a bowl you have an everyday relationship with, fill with spring water (not evian) and three pinches of salt. When you are ready breathe russell's woolly demons into the salt water where they will dissolve away. Repeat until all images (aural or visual) of russell crowe have passed out of your body. Carry the bowl to the sink and flush water down with cold running water. Smudge yourself with jasmine or lavender.



Smudging outdoors (photo courtesy of Coffs Harbour Smudging Society).




Getting Rid Of Nasty Astral Slime


Sit in nature at sunset holding a stone (any stone will do). Project all the nasty slimy and inky feeling you picked up from this ordeal into the stone and then say:

I release this astral slime
And all darkness which is not mine
I let go of all that may have harmed
My aura is bright, all russ released
And I am charmed

Now throw the rock into a body of water preferably as the sun drops below the horizon and be conscious of its fading light taking away any astral slime in your energy field.




I hope these will help those whose lives have been polluted. To those remaining untouched, remember - prevention is better than cure.

CV x

Poem 4 The Pit Dog

Miners taught
‘em how to fight
Yet they held ‘em
Close to keep warm
At night

It made ‘em tough
But loving too
So pleasing is the
Only thing they
Wanna do

They can’t help
The disaster
When a master
Lives through
His dog

russell crowe Lower Case Appeal

Our mission is to bring russell crowe back down to Earth. From now on we will only write his name in lower case, thereby stripping him of his Proper Noun status. We urge all members of the media, and the planet as a whole, to do likewise. It may seem trivial to some however there are many issues at hand, the biggest one being russell's head. Join us in this grassroots crusade. The russell crowe Lower Case Appeal needs your help!

New Zealand's Megalomaniac Knows NO Boundaries

Will New Zealand's Russell Crowe ever stop?

His delusions of grandeur are triggering anxiety within us. If he is not medicated soon, we may have to resort to pharmaceuticals or voluntary admission to a psychiatric facility ourselves. Within the last two weeks we have had to brace ourselves before reading the morning's broadsheets, something we used to find relaxing. It appears nothing is sacred to this seemingly ubiquitous self-styled sage. We don't know if it's the birth of the plump Charlie Spencer Crowe or if Russell, following in the footsteps of Kung Fu's David Carradine, has become the Master and Commander, but NZ's Russ cannot stop giving advice. Whether it be the Prime Minister of Australia, the 3rd in line to the British Throne or parents around the globe, the Crowings are coming through thick and fast. Recent transgressions include:

DEMANDING the Australian government disregard the sovereignty of the nation of Indonesia and intervene in the Schapelle Corby matter.

BLABBING about his friendship with Prince Henry (Harry) to promote his solo album.

BANGING on and on about fatherhood and how great it is to be the Dad of the large-ish Charlie.

We used to admire the Kiwi's acting skills - he made a great Neo-Nazi - but now we are unable to separate the actor and the celebrity. Like anyone else we can suspend our disbelief, but the last Russell Crowe movie we saw found us contemplating which scenes Russell had rewritten.



Charles Spencer Crowe at 3 months