My birthday is next Friday, and this year I’ve found it necessary to ask for a new pair of slippers. All of us in my family let each other know what we’d like – because we know how hopeless we all are at buying things for each other. It’s not that I’ve asked for slippers because I can’t think of anything more exciting or dynamic or entertaining that I’d like for my birthday. It’s just come to the point where slippers are the thing I most need.
My existing slippers are an aging pair of "ug" boots. It is not exaggerating to say that they are more hole than boot. On cold winter days when I go downstairs to get the newspaper, if it’s windy I can feel a draft than enters the hole by what’s left of the heel and flows along the sides of my foot to another hole next to my big toe. I wouldn’t bother wearing them but they keep the bottoms of my feet warm.
Actually, what would make a great birthday present is to win the footy tipping. With one round to go next weekend, I’m just one point in the lead, closely followed by the cleaner, who is one mean-arse tipster. Of course, since I’m leading, I suppose that makes me a meaner-arse tipster. No, in fact it probably makes me the meanest-arse tipster.
The Micallef Programme, a kind of Australian A Bit Of Fry And Laurie but without Laurie has reared its ugly wacky zany head on broadcast television again, Friday nights on the ABC. I’ll be watching every show to (a) see if I can spot myself in the audience – we went to a taping a few weeks ago, watch out for the "Price Is Right" bit and (b) see the hilarious sketch comedy moment where the priest places a fallen crucifix back on the wall by nailing it up…
