Paul (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fremantlebiz) wrote,@ 2007-06-03 09:01:00 |
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Sophia Loren visits Australia - avoids baked beans
As I write this entry it's 5:41 am and still dark outside, but in the eastern states at places like Sydney it is almost a quarter to eight and daylight has seeped into the cracks of its grottiest icons. Already tourists will have started photographing the Sydney Opera House and marvelling at its ugliness.
One of the tourists in the city of sin is Sophia Loren. She's 72, and thanks to the slices of cucumber she puts over her eyes each night, and soft-focus camera lenses, she's holding back the ravages of time pretty well. There are plenty of Italian women half her age shuffling along in countless villages in their black dresses and stockings who bear silent witness to the fact that the benefits of a Mediterranean diet are not all they are cracked up to be.
However, I suspect that in her senior years Ms Loren is losing her marbles. The evidence is there in the fact that she came to Australia, and especially to Sydney where she was ambushed by a representative of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (our ABC) who asked her if she ever farted? Farted? What a cheek. He was of course escorted from the room. I happened to catch this edifying exercise on one of the TV news broadcasts. I didn't notice any of the press corps laughing.
The flatulence flea was a young whipperschnapper, commonly described as a comedian from a periodically feeble program called The Chaser's war on everything. Its one of those typical ABC comedy shows which rate so poorly that the commercial networks wouldn't touch them even if they came with free laughing gas. Sometimes its possible to sit through an entire episode of these type of shows without cracking the slightest smile, let alone enjoy a hearty laugh. Well not unless the man holds up the sign for the audience saying, "Laugh now."
One of the important criteria for ABC comedy people is that they don't actually have to be very funny or original. I think the main thing is they have a university degree majoring in synthetic drollness and a network of influential gay friends on the inside of the organisation. The rest comes pretty easy, especially when it comes time to sign a new contract. The fine print probably reads somewhere, "Being actually funny is sufficient grounds for termination of the contract."
So year after year the jaded Australian teletubbies have to put up with same old faces force-feeding the same old tired formulas. Forced, that's a good word to describe the general state of most ABC comedy. However I'd have to agree that the 7:30 Report is okay most nights, except for Thursdays.
I pretty well got over fart jokes when I was a sixteen year old at school. I confess that for a while I was intrigued to learn that the word was in my school dictionary. After a while the dictionary used to fall open at that page by itself, which was a bit embarrassing, I still remember the schoolboy definition for a fart: "A volcanic eruption between the mountains of bum - it rushes through the creases of trousers and comes out with a musical hum." We used to enjoy that one no matter how many times we heard it. As you can see, the minds of schoolboys in those mid-twentieth century days were easily amused.
I'm no longer infatuated by the word fart. In that respect I'm a bit like Sophia Loren, but not as well preserved because I don't like cucumber slices on my eyes when I sleep. The only thing I have on me at night are heavy cats sleeping on my feet. That's bad for the legs, which is probably why mine are not as good as Ms Loren's.
I guess that by now Ms Loren will have awakened in her five star hotel and will be propped up in bed by a half dozen soft white pillows as she eats her cornflakes and contemplates a slice of toast with Vegemite. Beyond her hotel-room window will be a vast panorama of Sydney Harbour. Conspicuous will be the daggy steel bridge and the concrete edifice that was made so famous last year by the season's grand finale of Australian Idol - the Sydney Opera House. She may well be thinking, "What have I done to deserve this."
I have a 45rpm single recording made by Sophia Loren with Peter Sellers: "Give me a bash at the bangers and mash me mover uses to make." or as they might say in Italian, "Durham us kelp a bangers e schiacciarlo usi del mover fare. Not the slightest mention of fagioli cotti, or baked beans as we call 'em.
Now I don't want to become a victim of The Chaser's Andrew Hanson or any of his embarrassing "old fart" jokes so I'll include a little plug for him. Mr Hanson has written up a very nice entry for himself on Wikipedia, check it out by clicking flatulenza. I was tempted to throw in a few amusing edits, but probably Ms Loren can organise that from her end.
You may notice there is nothing there about his parentage. Bummer! Therefore it seems possible to conclude Mr Hansen may be related to the famous Pauline, that's the one who used to work in King's Cross, not the redhead Queensland politician.
There is also a Chaser website full of amusing Aussie humour. Its a sort of blog with some expensive souvenir baubles for sale. Check it out by clicking, zany witticisms. Be patient - I suspect a Commodore 64 is being used for a server.
© MMVII Paul R. Weaver.
About the writer
Check out each month's subject index on the Calendar Page for my "common-man" monologues about survival in 21st century Australia – plus a little history occasionally. An original essay is added most days as part of an undertaking to write a couple of million words.
As I write this entry it's 5:41 am and still dark outside, but in the eastern states at places like Sydney it is almost a quarter to eight and daylight has seeped into the cracks of its grottiest icons. Already tourists will have started photographing the Sydney Opera House and marvelling at its ugliness.
One of the tourists in the city of sin is Sophia Loren. She's 72, and thanks to the slices of cucumber she puts over her eyes each night, and soft-focus camera lenses, she's holding back the ravages of time pretty well. There are plenty of Italian women half her age shuffling along in countless villages in their black dresses and stockings who bear silent witness to the fact that the benefits of a Mediterranean diet are not all they are cracked up to be.
However, I suspect that in her senior years Ms Loren is losing her marbles. The evidence is there in the fact that she came to Australia, and especially to Sydney where she was ambushed by a representative of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (our ABC) who asked her if she ever farted? Farted? What a cheek. He was of course escorted from the room. I happened to catch this edifying exercise on one of the TV news broadcasts. I didn't notice any of the press corps laughing.
The flatulence flea was a young whipperschnapper, commonly described as a comedian from a periodically feeble program called The Chaser's war on everything. Its one of those typical ABC comedy shows which rate so poorly that the commercial networks wouldn't touch them even if they came with free laughing gas. Sometimes its possible to sit through an entire episode of these type of shows without cracking the slightest smile, let alone enjoy a hearty laugh. Well not unless the man holds up the sign for the audience saying, "Laugh now."
One of the important criteria for ABC comedy people is that they don't actually have to be very funny or original. I think the main thing is they have a university degree majoring in synthetic drollness and a network of influential gay friends on the inside of the organisation. The rest comes pretty easy, especially when it comes time to sign a new contract. The fine print probably reads somewhere, "Being actually funny is sufficient grounds for termination of the contract."
So year after year the jaded Australian teletubbies have to put up with same old faces force-feeding the same old tired formulas. Forced, that's a good word to describe the general state of most ABC comedy. However I'd have to agree that the 7:30 Report is okay most nights, except for Thursdays.
I pretty well got over fart jokes when I was a sixteen year old at school. I confess that for a while I was intrigued to learn that the word was in my school dictionary. After a while the dictionary used to fall open at that page by itself, which was a bit embarrassing, I still remember the schoolboy definition for a fart: "A volcanic eruption between the mountains of bum - it rushes through the creases of trousers and comes out with a musical hum." We used to enjoy that one no matter how many times we heard it. As you can see, the minds of schoolboys in those mid-twentieth century days were easily amused.
I'm no longer infatuated by the word fart. In that respect I'm a bit like Sophia Loren, but not as well preserved because I don't like cucumber slices on my eyes when I sleep. The only thing I have on me at night are heavy cats sleeping on my feet. That's bad for the legs, which is probably why mine are not as good as Ms Loren's.
I guess that by now Ms Loren will have awakened in her five star hotel and will be propped up in bed by a half dozen soft white pillows as she eats her cornflakes and contemplates a slice of toast with Vegemite. Beyond her hotel-room window will be a vast panorama of Sydney Harbour. Conspicuous will be the daggy steel bridge and the concrete edifice that was made so famous last year by the season's grand finale of Australian Idol - the Sydney Opera House. She may well be thinking, "What have I done to deserve this."
I have a 45rpm single recording made by Sophia Loren with Peter Sellers: "Give me a bash at the bangers and mash me mover uses to make." or as they might say in Italian, "Durham us kelp a bangers e schiacciarlo usi del mover fare. Not the slightest mention of fagioli cotti, or baked beans as we call 'em.
Now I don't want to become a victim of The Chaser's Andrew Hanson or any of his embarrassing "old fart" jokes so I'll include a little plug for him. Mr Hanson has written up a very nice entry for himself on Wikipedia, check it out by clicking flatulenza. I was tempted to throw in a few amusing edits, but probably Ms Loren can organise that from her end.
You may notice there is nothing there about his parentage. Bummer! Therefore it seems possible to conclude Mr Hansen may be related to the famous Pauline, that's the one who used to work in King's Cross, not the redhead Queensland politician.
There is also a Chaser website full of amusing Aussie humour. Its a sort of blog with some expensive souvenir baubles for sale. Check it out by clicking, zany witticisms. Be patient - I suspect a Commodore 64 is being used for a server.
© MMVII Paul R. Weaver.
About the writer
Check out each month's subject index on the Calendar Page for my "common-man" monologues about survival in 21st century Australia – plus a little history occasionally. An original essay is added most days as part of an undertaking to write a couple of million words.
