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eric_and_nunuG’day, folks. I’m Nunu, pronounced “Noo-noo”. Real name is Nicholas, but some smarties mucked around with that and made it nickel-arse, which is not very nice, so I now get called Nunu. That’s me in the photo, on the right. Other bloke is Eric, he asked me to write something for his blog. I’ll tell more ’bout Eric later.

I’ve got a registered keeper name of Hinerangi, and we live in a unit down southways. My keeper has another name, but I like Hinerangi. Sounds more exotic and mysterious. And she’s made our unit real nice, with garden front and back, and latest thing is a huge red lounge – I mean, like huge. Could sleep four people, easy. Maybe more. We tried it out over the weekend. Was like camping-out. You can watch the TV from it, if you can stay awake. I think my keeper might be doing that – sit down to watch the news and fall fast asleep.

My keeper’s got a fulltime job now, and all the travelling really drains her, although I think things get better at the end of the week. It’s a pretty good life here in the unit. Eric comes down sometimes, and I always monster him. I think he must have lots of chooks, ‘cos he always brings some for me. It’s dead chook, of course, which is okay as I eat it anyway. I just wish I could do something like that for my keeper, something like have a nice meal ready for her when she gets home.

I’ll think of more to write by tomorrow, and you can always write me back a comment if you like. Yip-yip! 🙂




It’s Just Not Cricket

by Colin O’Scopy

ecard4A reader of “You’ve Heard It Now” sent us this old advertisement that could explain the less-than-sparkling performance of the Australian Cricket team.

The root of the decline seems to have been new laws brought in to assist the Australian Somewhat Intelligent Organisation. Under one of those laws you could be disappeared just for being in the same bus, train, or restaurant as a suspected or known terrorist.

Popular advice held that if you found yourself in any of the above situations you should immediately ask every person around you if they were a terrorist. Any answer in the affirmative was a strong indication that your exit from vehicle or restaurant should be extremely rapid.

Neither should you delay in asking the question, went the advice. As soon as you were close enough to make yourself heard, ask “Are you a terrorist?

Problems arose when the question was unwittingly directed at a cricketer. A cricketer would hear the question as “Are you a terror-wrist?” Ego demanded the response be an eager “Yes, yes! Have you heard of me?“, even if their only involvement with the game had been as an armchair critic.

The predicament for the cricketer was predictable. Travelling alone and eating alone were bad enough, but he also found himself isolated on the cricket field. And all the while expecting a tap on the kneecap from ASIO (Australian Somewhat Intelligent Organisation). Mental deterioration wasn’t slow in setting-in.

Soon the Australian Prime Monster came to hear of the plight of cricketers, although it now appears that the manner and timing of his hearing was deliberately connived so as to cause minimal national alarm. Low morale amongst Australia’s cricketers would be worse than losing to New Zealand.

To avoid the asking of awkward questions and the receiving of equally awkward answers, the Prime Monster hit upon the idea of a central terrorist register. It would be responsible for certifying all terrorists and non-terrorists around the entire world. And they would issue lapel badges, to be known as the “eCard”, to authenticate this. Every citizen venturing into public places would be required to prominently display their badge. Verbal interchange would be unnecessary.

Focus groups and field trials had all indicated a ready acceptance of the scheme. Billions to finance the scheme had been set-aside in the next budget. Commercial lobbyists were hard at work, on behalf of industry capable of producing the cards. President Shrub had given his warm approval of the scheme. Our (Australia’s) Man-of-Steel was about to become a legend in his own lunchbox.

Then November 2007 intervened, and all those eCards joined the millions of fridge magnets telling us to be alert, not alarmed. The storm clouds were towering above cricket fields everywhere. There weren’t going to be many more happy hours in the pavillion. The Australian Cricket Bored were conspicuous by their silence.

But the game of cricket deserves our support. Do consider our urgent plea, at

Old news, but still relevant.youvehearditnow_banner
Monday, 19th September, 2005

Water’s history causes concern
by William Anker

Perth scientists have found a way to make drinking water that will fit any shape stomach but fear the news will be overshadowed by their grim finding about the water a footbrawl team is drinking.


“It happened when the Sydney Swans were in Perth recently” said a spokesperson. “They asked us to check their drinking water. You need to drink a lot of water in Perth, and they wanted to make sure it was safe. We still need to do more tests, but we can be almost positively definite about the water the Sydney Swans are drinking. Some of those water molecules also passed through Julius Caesar.”


“We have notified the Australian Footbrawl League of our findings and had planned a full press release for this Saturday morning. We can honestly deny knowing the Swans were playing in a footbrawl match on the same day. We were just acting on the best advice available. We certainly would not want the Swans players puking their guts out when they found out where their water had been.”


The spokesperson continued: “Perth scientists are very proud of finding a way to make drinking water that will fit any shape stomach. We do it by melting ice. It is a simple method but we are hoping to patent it so we can finance research into identifying molecules. The AFL is very keen to find out just which ones were in Julius Caesar and take them out.”


“You’ve Heard It Now” is unable to confirm a rumour that an emergency meeting of the AFL Tribunal on Saturday morning will suspend for one game every player of the West Coast Eagles team on the charge that their participation is prejudicial to the interests of the Extended Victorian Footbrawl League.


Australian Rules Football clubs have “catchment”areas; where a prospective player lives will govern which team he might join. The father-and-son rule overrides this restriction. Albeit many years later, a young man could pull on the same club colours that his father had worn. But the architects of the rule could never have foreseen that one day a man and his son would play in the same team at the same time.


When David Hicks burst out of the backline, grimly bouncing the ball, he could not see his father. The kick needed to carry far beyond the closing wall of opposition.
It took a fraction of a second for the ball to travel from hand to boot. It would be many long years before the ball was again within the grasp of friendly hands.

Terry’s story is the undeviating devotion of a father to his son. Through political procrastination and flakey friendships it was never denied. Through all the dry legalese it reminded us that we should never feel bludgeoned into believing that parental love stops at low-water mark.

The name of Terry Hicks truly belongs in any Hall of Fame.

Play the Mike Brady song ~

Up There Cazaly!


Eric Carwardine, in Perth, Western Australia