Dear Melbourne,
Thank you for the wonderful time. Your drivers were (mostly) courteous and your coffee ever-flawless. Your piles of things on expensive breads served as breakfast were both challenging and delicious.
Melbourne fellas, a word: you are, individually and collectively, a handsome lot, but you have too many tattoos. Individually and collectively. Most of you look as though you are wearing faded Ken Done lycra. I am glad to see that you are championing the mutton chop and the undercut, but these only made this poor Adelaide man think of Deliverance, rather than whatever it was that you wanted me to think about.
Your sense of fashion and style is without reproach and you are, to a man, bold, brave and beautiful in your finery. You exude grace and delicacy without sacrificing masculinity. I would never have the confidence and panache to wear it as you so confidently do, but I am just not the type to suit the style of a wife-beating dandy (pink-striped, low-slung tank-tops! A triumph!).
Melbourne shop-owners, an additional word: your business names are hilarious. "You Are Hair" Ha ha! Excellent. But, be aware that there are those among you who Do Not Get It. They are usurpers and must be stopped. These people are just adding two random words together and calling it cool. "Donkey and Onion", "Rust Chowder", "Scally and Trombone", "Sass and Bide". The very idea. Root them out and make them re-name their businesses exactly what they are until they can come up with a suitable alternative. Names like "T-shirts with unacknowledged Simpsons slogans at high prices" or "Useless handmade dog dolls".
And you, Roccoco. We waited for almost two hours after bed time with a hungry, tired baby. Fortunately, it was delicious enough to excuse this tardiness. Even with the bad mussel.
Well done. Nice save.
Everyone else: stop smoking and get some bloody exercise. You're all starting to look a bit prematurely haggard. And holding your ciggies under the table at an outdoor cafe does not make the smoke disappear. At all. In any way. You're like a 2-year-old kid hiding a beach-ball behind its back. We can still see it.
Until next time, I shall dream of the delicious pile of food that Dordy showed us the way to at St Ali.
Respectfully,
Franzy and Pickles.
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
"piles of things on expensive breads served as breakfast" - YES!
ReplyDeleteDitto the double-barrelled nonsensical business names, smoking and tattoos. It seems de rigeur here to have badly-drawn comics up and down your arms when you're a student who makes coffee.
Having a block of 12 flats next door means that six of 'em smoke, so sitting outside just means having a second-hand ciggie or two of my own.
Bloody shame we weren't at home when you guys were in town!
I just loved going to breakfast places that have all done away with seven variations of bacon and eggs. I could have had sweet cous cous if I wanted! Or sardines!
ReplyDeleteMaybe you should get a Super Soaker for Xmas and help your neighbours quit ...
You could have stayed in Adelaide and griped just as much while saving the cost of travel etc....
ReplyDeletehope you had fun anyway.
But what would have I have griped about?
ReplyDeleteAnd I had an immense amount of fun!