Unrool nursery rhymes

As a well-known hash taggerer, disruptor slash influenza influencer slash media guru and recent graduate of The Richard Wilkins’ School of Real Good Journalism ‘n’ That, I’m very, very busy coming up with Get Rich Quick Schemes and ways to help my many readers find more ways to connect and waste time on social media. I’m hoping to motivate my huge fanbase to break through brick walls and hashtag their way to world peace, pin so many photos on Pinterest that the war in Syria will end, and sign so many petitions that Malcolm Turnbull will finally grow a spine. Whatevs.

I’m so busy being fabulous that I’m hoping you won’t notice that I’ve written a short and gratuitous blog post this week. In the meantime, here is some of my unbelievably artistic rhyming poetry stuff:

Two little dicky birds sitting on a wall

One named Peter (Dutton) and one named Paul (Keating)

Rack off Peter, kick him off Paul

Drop dead Peter, come back Paul

 

Controversial political art that is

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Naughty Forty

I love being in my 40s, there’s a wisdom and a new found I don’t give a fuck what you think of me  attitude to how I live my life, which wasn’t there in my 20s (and certainly not in my teens). I’m still young and fit enough to enjoy life even though wrinkles have started their long march across my face. But forty is also when you realise you’re not immortal and the friends you’ve had for 20 or even 30 years don’t last forever. That parents get sick and die, and being a grown up is really responsible. I’ve realised I’m now the same age that my parents were when I first made beautiful friendships that I thought would last forever. Some of those precious friends have vanished. And I thought I’d find other friends who shared their humour and energy and spirit, but those people are rare. And my darlings have gone forever. Sometimes I hear a piece of music and I think of lovelies I shared my life with. I think of my friend whose name is now on the AIDS quilt, he died so young. And I think of the times we spent lying in his bed reading to each other, sharing authors we thought were fantastic. And listening to music that we loved. And sending postcards to each other from far away places because the internet wasn’t invented. And I realise that when you’re 40 you really do understand that life can be a bloody bitch and that is why we must laugh and dance and joke and sing and be as mad as cut snakes and tell each other again and again that we love each other before it is too late. Because love can’t wait.


Single Mother’s Day

Just when I think single motherhood is too crazy and I want to take them back to the pet shop to get a refund, I get this card from my 7 year old:

My mummy is so nice unique and pretty

Mummy I love you

Mummy I never want you to go away

You are the best mummy in the world

Love S

I did not pay her to do this. In the stressed out, overworked world of single motherhood we sometimes forget about the joy of mothering and that all the little tedious tasks of being a mother on your own add up to a lifetime of love and care for your children. So I’d like to pay tribute to all the solo mothers I’ve met, you inspire me with your hard work, dedication and devoted love. You are all yummy mummies.