Road Trip – Part 2


Welcome back to part two of what the internet community is already calling ‘another blog about a road trip’. But enough about me, babes. Sooooo spill, what’s the latest goss with you?

Fair enough, I’ll crack on then.

We rolled into The Dandenongs (a range of low mountains and sweeping hills named after a largely forgotten indie band from Sheffield) at about 3pm in the midst of an epic downpour. Our outdoor-based plans were rather scuppered by the apocalyptic weather but we were quite happy to stay in once we discovered our cosy accommodation. After our recent heavy schedule of drinking wine and lolling about in pools we deserved a treat so kicked back with a pizza and a DVD. We chose to watch ‘Slumdog Milliner’ – the heartwarming tale of a boy from Mumbai who makes fabulous hats.

At 5am the next morning, a bright new dawn blazed across an infinite sky quite probably although we were asleep at the time. Five short hours later though, we headed to the nearby William Ricketts Sanctuary. The sanctuary is a ferny glade that for many years was home to the eponymous artist who furnished his woodland crib with numerous sculptures of sinewy, entwined, muscular male torsos. Now don’t get me wrong, I likes me homoerotic imagery as much as the next bloke but there was something about the way many of these pieces portrayed him as a christ-like saviour to the Aboriginals that left me feeling a little queasy.

Dude, have you been working out? Seriously man, you're looking ripped.


Our next stop was a cafe with a dedicated bird feeding area. This sounds pleasantly sedate and conjures up images of gaily coloured feather puffballs, flitting hither and thither, landing gently on the tip of upturned noses as they delicately remove seed, balanced lightly between lips in an interspecies food-kiss.

This however, was very much not the case. It was a talon filled, beak gouging battlefield of winged hatred. The moment anyone so much as rustled a packet of bird nosh they were assaulted by a gang of foot high cockatoos intent on bloodshed. As these fowl assassins lunged at faces and slashed at wrists, I was expecting anarchy to break out and braced myself for screams and panicked tears.

Not so, I saw faces illuminated with delight, children gurgling with happiness and the elderly excitedly comparing bloodstained trousers. I was totally baffled but managed to curb my natural instinct to phone the police for assistance. Instead I plastered on a smile as I flailed my arms around in as calm and dignified manner as possible.

It was almost a relief when a bird landed on Susie and she reacted by squealing and running around in giddy circles. 

As Susie was visciously attacked, Steve was almost paralysed with brotherly concern.


Pretty Vacant ------------------------------------------ Pretty Polly


I urge you to return for the third and please God, final part of our adventurous tale. For those of you that have written in, the full length – ‘Road Trip – Beyond the Precipice of Damnation’ audio cassette (narrated by Al Gore in a high-pitched giggle) will be released in time for Christmas 2014.


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