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Of grasshoppers, big nights, office politics and men in red


There are ways to get yourself in trouble and ways that might help you get back out, writes Michael Blucher.

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So now we have another piece of inspired PC brilliance being foisted upon us. The scrapping of the term “breast feeding”, in preference for the more gender inclusive “chest feeding”.

I would have thought the term “breast”, as potentially offensive and “pigeon holing” as it might be, would have been safe, given that it is where the milk (aka “the food”) is produced and stored. Apparently not.

As this latest PC missile came spearing into our lives recently, I could only think of one thing.


A little tangential, I know, but my attention was dragged there by a social media post, just a short scroll away.

A mate who runs a property out in Western Queensland has been belted by them. Having battled his way through drought for the past decade, he and his young wife have finally seen a bit of rain over summer. They’ve grown a bit of grass, but now most of it’s been decimated by a plague of locusts. He reckons they’re destined to lose somewhere between 30 and 50 per cent of their annual income, depending on what falls out of the sky in the coming months.

As a couple who’ve only recently entered the realm of parenthood, I thought about asking them for their view on the breast feeding/chest feeding conundrum. What speaks more precisely to them?

Upon reflection, I might leave it a little while. Perhaps until next spring.

And in the meantime, we could take the “chest-feeding” protagonists out to their cattle property, to have a look at the damage the locusts have done.




A special piece of duplicity from TV land recently.

A contracted talent, let’s call him “A”, suddenly finds himself on the outer with the head honcho, from here on to be known as “C”.  A is on a very good monthly retainer – that’s not the issue – he’s just baffled why his comedic talents are rarely being utilised on air.

He tries to organise a meeting with C. PA to C: “He’s not available. When do you think he might be available?  PA: “I don’t know”. Follow up phone call. No response. Text. No response.  Email. No response. Another phone call. PA – “He’s not in his office.” This goes on for a couple of weeks.

In the meantime, A receives an approach from a radio show. Are you available to do a weekly segment with D?

“Yes – I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can, being contracted and all. I’ll check and let you know ASAP.”

Back to the boss, via text: “C, I’ve been approached to do a radio segment with D. Is that OK? After all, it seems I have plenty of spare time these days…” (quizzical face emoji)

No response.

Follow up email. Nothing.

He needs an answer. Out of desperation, he approaches C’s trusty offsider, B. “Here’s my dilemma,” A explains. “What do you think I should do?”

B – “Great opportunity. You’ve got to take it. Leave it with me. I’ll sort it out with C.”

A – “Phew. At last some clarity. Thanks a lot.”

He does the segment with D. It goes well. Gets off the air, his phone is lit up like a Christmas tree.

He listens to the voice message from C.

“Who do you think you are, you eff-ing lying cheating piece of sh*t. You can’t do that….you’ve breached  your contract. You’re finished with us … blah blah blah …”

WTF?  He’s gob-smacked,  given both the extended silence from C, and the precautionary steps he’d taken to clear the “guest appearance” with B.

He rings B. “Mate – I’ve just copped it from C. You said it would be OK. What gives?

B: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re going to have to fight that one on your own.”


So there you have it.

Anybody for a career in television?

Let’s just hope the karma bus is doing blockies, and has enough gas in the tank to bowl over a couple of well deserving cowards.




Bush ingenuity, manifested in an early morning exchange between two hard heads after a monster night on the ran-tan in Western Queensland.

“Hey Bill, you got a dog?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Where is it?”

“Tied up round the side of the house. Why?”

“Can you let it off?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because I need to find my glasses.”

“What have your glasses got to do with my dog?”

“If your dog can find my vomit, I’ll find my glasses.”

Easy. Huge night, but still very lucid in thought.




Rugby fans will be well pleased with the start their beloved Reds made in the opening round of Super Rugby last week.

Despite the 600 per cent humidity, and the inevitable “first-game-itis” the home side looked slick – their attack was fluid, and their defence, spirited and well organised.

At this very early stage, just one real question remains: who and what did they beat?

Two former Rugby internationals I spoke to during the week predicted the ‘Tahs wouldn’t win a game during the Australian home and away season.

And that prediction wasn’t made flippantly or arrogantly, it was made ruefully.

Historically, both the Reds and the Waratahs need to be strong, in order for the Wallabies to be strong.

We’ll get another reading on the Reds progress when they take on the Melbourne Rebels at Suncorp tonight.

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