They're back!

and they can hurt you from here...

At last, after too long in the wilderness, HG and Roy were back doing what they do best, calling the football. Since leaving Triple J for Triple M  (boo), the airwaves have been free of the best commentary team ever. Some sort of contractual problems related to who has the rights to footie, or something.

Anyway, they're back (still at Triple M), and as brilliant as ever. Whoever controls football broadcasting in this country needs to ensure that HG and Roy are always able to call the big games (all codes). The game just isn't as good without their parochial, one eyed (yet fickle), referee abusing, telling it like it is call.

Watmough is a clown! "bloke can't help it, I s'pose"

"You know there's something wrong with the Kangaroos when Gallen is the playmaker"

"Cheating Kangaroos"

"Let's go Kumuls"

helicopters

Helicopters fly way too low through the Blue Mountains. Every weekend we are treated to the joys of a steady stream of choppers flying low overhead. It's not search and rescue, it's all of them. I suspect it's because they can't navigate without being able to read our letterbox numbers.

Tossers.

Anyway, one flew a bit too low yesterday. Fortunately they weren't over houses at the time. Fortunately for them the passengers and pilot walked away. Maybe they fly so low that when they crash there's not much of a bang?

They still managed to crash on the Oaks fire trail, so I guess it was lucky that the weather has been sucky, or there'd have been more mtb riders enjoying a pleasant morning ride through the bush all along the trail.

Rather than flying low over my house next time, how about you fly a bit further south (or north), and stay the hell away from our backyards? You'll still be able to keep suburbia in sight, and you'll be able to fly low enough that crashes won't hurt. We all win.

Tossers.

Who am I?

I think I might have to set up a new blog, in a new assumed name. Not that there's anything wrong with this assumed name, it's just that quite a few people know me, so I can't vent or perhaps be as honest as I'd like.

There are things I'd like to say, views I'd like to express that might just single me out for attack. Probably not physical, but I still need to go to work, and lots of people there know me as thefathippy as well.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to get all Fox News right wing loony, but there are things I'd like to say that I can't. If I'm identifiable, people I write about may also be identifiable or deduceable, and my writings may inadvertently (or advertently) embarrass or humiliate them. I don't want to do that. I'm not the bloke that does that.

But I need to let out some of the crap. It's bottled up inside at the moment, and there, it isn't doing me or anyone else any good. At least an unidentifiable rant does me some good, if only by reducing the pressure between my ears. I might even be nicer to be around.

Tony F
ps: my 10000 steps is going OK, some weight lost, some minor belt tightening required, no need for fatter pants. Too bad it's been so wet since the start of daylight savings time, I fear my efforts will once again be undone by rain, sloth and overeating.