Fatting The Gap

One of the highlights of my television year was on last night. While there have been better episodes, i.e. more unethical, this one still bore the hallmarks of entertainment designed by Donald Rumsfeld. It was the “Challenge” edition of The Biggest Loser.

Or, Get A Fatty To Shit Themselves To A Better Life.

This year they were taken to Switzerland to be challenged by going from high places to low places. The reward for getting enormously heavy was to let gravity do its job.

(If I didn’t know a little something about Galileo and falling bodies, I’d suspect that the tubbies would be better at that than the rest of us. The real challenge would be getting them to go up… but I digress.)

Last night, Switzerland played host to, by weight, about 18 Australians. By headcount, about five. Even though it's ANZAC time of year, I've got to say that the Swiss were incredibly brave.

They got those fatsos up in helicopters, on thin suspension bridges, hanging off ropes and all sorts of other adventurous stuff. I mean, who wants to pilot a helicopter with a hysterical shifting load in the back that could roll you into a mountainside at any moment?

For that matter, who wants to stand on a wire-and-sky-hook construction, ninety metres above the earth, with a panicking fatty? They drag you down just like the fabled drowning man. They don’t have much to live for. If you’re lucky, they just take a bite out of you as they shamble past to throw themselves off the platform. More likely though, they make a lunge and hug you all the way down - like the last lamington at the gates of a health farm.

Who’s the guy who does a tandem sky-dive with a panicking lardo strapped to the front of him? The physical limits of what a harness and parachute can take beggar the imagination, let alone the opportunity for the fatty-in-free-fall-feeding-frenzy-fiasco where the instructor arrives back on earth as nothing more than a pair of hands gripping the chute controls, while the ‘contestant’ dabs at the corners of their mouth. Croix de Guerre for that guy.

Last night had some high points, but mostly low. The Swiss will be convinced of a few things after dealing with this lot of winners:

• The only response to anything outside the set of experience even narrower than the set of their own eyes, is “Or Mar Gawd”
• The only response to having just achieved something momentous, such as relaxing and letting the equipment and tour personnel do all of the fucking work as per usual is “Or Mar Gawd! I didn’t think I could do it. I am so brave.”
• Despite the wheezing and asthma, those lard-balls can really scream. There’d be wildlife in those cliffs that are going to grow up slightly deaf and fearing a legendary wild-thing they once saw swing by

Yup, the rolly-pollies really did us proud last night and I was relieved to see that the angry lesbian who pulled the full Gabor before her jump, was able to pull it together enough after her jump to make another pass at her instructor - before waddling off to the all-you-can-eat buffet. It was a win for equal rights all around. I’m pro-Gay Marriage. I’m anti-Gay Cannibalism.

Next year, I’m looking forward to a naked chubster fighting their own weight in angry lemurs and another, using nothing but Sellotape on their eyelids and a giant adult nappy, to fake their way into the Sumo grand finals.

Life Does Get Around To Imitating, Eventually

The boring old farts often say, “We take too many things for granted”, but I think we take even some of the for granted things for granted. Take the below:

The other day, I saw a bird fight its way out of a wet paper bag. It was unreal. It was funny. It ended in triumph and it also gave me an indelible mental image for that often used saying.

In the recent filthy weather we’ve been having in Sydney, I was afforded another terrific image. A for real-deal drowned rat. Never seen one before, now I know what people are talking about.

I mentioned this to Smurfy and he suddenly got all excited and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I slipped on a banana peel the other day. It was outside the post office and I went ‘wooowah’ and looked down and thought, so that actually happens, does it?”

And I bet you’re thinking the same thing. I’ve never, ever slipped on a banana peel. Thought it was just one of those ‘things’.

In Hind Sight

For those of you who don't know, my partner Emergency Contact, has a unique relationship with the world. Don't get me wrong, she's a smart cookie - in fact, she's Dr Emergency Contact, but there is the element of the distracted academic about her. Take the following exchange for example. 


EC: You know you've got things on your mind when you put your contacts in... leave it for a couple of hours and then accidentally put them in again. I spent the morning wondering what the hell's gone wrong with my eyes. 


Me: That is both hilarious and tragic. 


EC: And, when I took one pair out, and then put on my glasses, I went, 'Hey wait a minute. I don't need to be wearing these. Cool. No. Wait. What the HELL is going on?' 


Me: Are you going anywhere without adult supervision today?

An Ode to Skyrim

Dorothea Mackellar (OBE) will be remembered for “My Country”, as most Australian school kids have trudged their way through those lines that start with, “I love a sunburnt country”. 

But, she was also interested in art, politics and in later life, she really got into computer gaming.

She was particularly fond of The Elder Scrolls trilogy. So much so, that with a very small amount of imagination, she wrote an ode to Skyrim; the third of the games.

I love Bethesda’s construct

A land of stabbing pains

Of see-through mountain ranges

Of shouts and levels gained

I love her many dungeons

Her empty, shallow sea,

Her mutants and programming errors

This RPG for me