I admit it. I like eating. I don't like Master Chef.

Hey, look. The people are nice, the judges are clever but the whole thing bores me to itchiness.

I know I am the only person in the entire country who doesn't like it.

I just don't get it the way the rest of you do.

I don't know how you can sit through so many close ups of nice people trying so hard to make nice things to eat in such a faked short space of time and the predictable line "and the winner is... we'll tell you after the break" and the utter seriousness of it all.

It's like waiting to see whether the prison warden will get a call from the Governor of Texas to forestall the condemned man's trip to the electric chair. It's like waiting for the chooks to lay. It's like waiting for the birth of a baby elephant. It's like watching your toenails grow. It's like losing weight over Christmas.

It's just food, people! Food. You get it in a bag at the deli!

I know. I am out of step. I am so alone.

The roosters think we are jackasses

Do you remember when the front bench of the old Labor Party in opposition was referred to as Roosters? They're now in government.


Don't want to blow on about politics. It's not my specialty. I do know about people though and how self interested we all are, even the good people of the political parties that represent us.
Just can't help wondering... 
How come none of these highly educated, highly sensitive, highly principled, highly affirmative-action oriented, very experienced union leaders and high-end negotiators could not walk into K.Rudd's office and say, "Mate. Things aren't going well. You have to change your ways. Pull the mining ads. Use velvet paws and settle down and have a slice of umble pie. You're too pompous and too hard to work with. 6 months ago you were more popular than beer and now you are on the nose. If we put anyone else from the gang of four in your chair the people will know it's another salesperson flogging the same dud product, so off you go, it's up to you." 
I mean he is just a bloke. One bloke. Not a despot. Headstrong, rigid, demanding, self directed, yes, but not Idi Amin. Not Sadam Who-Sucks. Not Adolf the Austrian. 
Do they who failed to persuade one bloke of their policies and preferences, now expect all 22 million of us to be so persuaded? 
I think they actually do. 


Lesson? Don't get so high on your roost that the only way to get you off it is to chop you off it.


For the full meaning of Roosters and Jackasses: http://bit.ly/acaV65

The dancer

She is wearing white tap shoes, striped orange and purple leggings, a purple ballet skirt, a green top and pink butterfly wings.

She is dancing in my study to the accompaniment of the Wiggles singing "Here come the Chicken".

She sits Miss Mousie in my bookshelves and keeps dancing.

She says, "I dancing, Pubba. Miss Mousie watching."

She is two.

I am in heaven and I am not even dead.

Ban the Vuvuzela. Soccer is hard enough to watch as it is.

Puzzling.

I won't give you the URL of the blog because it offended my sensibilities. I was however looking up something today about the 'orrible noise coming from the crowd at the FIFA World Cup Crowd.

I read the article in the London Telegraph in which the writer, Xabi Alonso  commented:  "There is serious dispute as to how traditional it is for South African fans to blow on their vuvuzelas. Some link it back to the traditional kudu horn. Others say it only dates back to the late 90s when the Chinese-made horns were promoted by breweries in the domestic game."


The blog entries that followed – now closed – were full of atrocious racist, bigoted, foul language and I couldn't help wondering which was worse—the supposed insensitivities of the locals for foisting their noise on visitors or the written insults of the blog posters.


We're a funny lot aren't we?

Be Nice. It's cheaper in the long run.

Mark McCormack wrote, in his book Things They Do Not Teach You At Harvard Business College - "All things being equal people prefer to do business with people they like. And when all things are not equal - people still prefer to do business with people they like. "

So, you had better learn to be likable!

I'm trying.  And thanks to Max Hitchins' newsletter  for the reminder.

How's this for Gen Y handwriting?

They are the most switched on generation, tech-wise,  but they do the weirdest un-techie things.

I snapped this 28 year old's hand at coffee this morning. She works for an ad agency specialising in social media. She has an iPhone. She still writes her shopping list on the back of her hand like she did with her home-work in Year 9.

If you look closely you'll also see she can't spell spinach – she's got it as spinnich. Yet like all her Gen Y peers she is lovable nevertheless.

Mr Saggy Suit vs. Jolibee

I was having coffee in a mall yesterday and a "figure" or character walked by.

I had to ask myself, Is the target market for the product the figure is promoting a child market? Does the figure actually do anything apart from walk around awkwardly like a saggy parachute that hasn't opened properly? Is the bloke with the character dressed in a way as to enhance the image of the product?

Then I thought of Jollibee from the Philippines. He's the most endearing character I've ever seen. There were 25 of him at the Jollibee 25th anniversary convention where I spoke and the actors inside him had been trained for 6 months by Disney personnel, all knew Jollibee's personality, actions, can-dos and can't dos, and I must confess they induced a tear of joy from my eye, whereas Mr Saggy Suit and his keeper yesterday left me feeling sorry for both of them.

Someone in head office had said, "I've got an idea! Let's get a suit figure to create a dashing image in the shopping centres."  And several thousand bucks later they got Mr Saggy Suit. He attracts attention but does he do anything for the brand or sales?