Eh up lad!

sorry I've been off the air for such a while, in part I'm blaming you and Bernard Shaw. To tell the truth it's only a very small part but if I don't blame someone else I'll have to cop the rap myself.

"Why blame'st thou blameless me?" you cry indignantly.

Well, it goes something like this...

Inspired by the Island Follies I started chipping away at the text and thinking serious thoughts -- how could it be done, why should it be done, should it be done? etc. There are drawers full of stuff just gathering silverfish. If the world's largest recyling business -- viz Hollywood -- can do it, why can't I?

The answer to that is pretty obvious (money and utterly ruthless bastards) but that didn't occur at the time. The question then was how?

The BBC came to the rescue with the issue of a glorious compendium called something like The Bernard Shaw Birthday Box -- 10 plays, mainly broadcast during the 70s and 80s of the old bugger's more popular stuff. I think I'm the only mug in Australia to have actually shelled out hard cash for the thing but am loving every bit -- not least the now rare pleasure of watching studio--based plays with terrific people in them.

Did they stop making such things because people don't want them or because greedy shits like big budgets and swanning around feeling important?

So I did a lot more chipping away at a lot more texts and, lo and behold, the young lady EP from the soccer fillum turns up, pissed off with waiting for the money to materialise and looking for something to do. She now has quite a lot to do.

Look, I'm not all that optimistic but it passes the bloody time.

The big(ish) news is that it looks v. likely I shall be coming over to London for a couple of weeks in January -- much as I did last year.

The plan was for us all to come over in September but this has been cocked up mainly by JP getting all the dates of his HSC (sort of A--levels) wrong. So there's no way we can do Sept and probably not Oct. The pressing biz is really with the old mum and dad. Dad's not been too great again and it can't be much of a laugh for mum. Under the circs I completely bottled delivering undiluted crap news and had to come up with something to sweeten the pill. Not that I consider myself all that sweet but it does seem to have cheered the old loves up a bit.

'Kin January! I shall freeze my furking nuts off!

Anyway, when I've got a bit more info I'll let you know. What's the warmest pub in Waltham Forest?

Beyond that there's not much news.

JP, alias Sexy Psycho Man, has now got his funky axe and spends most of his time at home lurking in his cell making a horrible noise, reading comics, playing putrid music and computer games and ignoring all studies. Not much changes in the world really.

Kate has become very teenaged. I can do no wrong but Jenn, for no obvious reason, has become evil incarnate. Kate swings from sweet little girl to a sort of 14--going--on--35 hard nut. We keep hoping it's a phase.

Jenny grinds on at work which seems a bit up and down lately, but mostly up thank God. They've got some new people in the place who seem OK and certainly better than the arseholes they replaced.

Nothing much happens with me. Daft plans float about, I waste a bit of time on 'em and then they fuck off. The only time I'm not being ignored is when I'm being ripped off.

Still there are a couple of plans afloat -- including the slender chance of a play in London next year. It's a solo thing starring a mate of mine called Mark Lee (he's best known for a flick called Galipolli in which he starred with none other than Piss--head Mel Gibson) and is basically just an adaptation of HG Wells' The Time Machine that went down well here a couple of years back. We're waiting for the director to get back from her travels to find out if it's a goer. Did I mention this before? Perhaps I'm losing what little grip I ever had.

The soccer film is still in with a chance -- see above -- but I'm not feeling all that optimistic. In a couple of weeks the producer is buggering off to some huge film--makers orgy in China where he thinks he might be able to wrest about ten million bucks from the burgeoning economies of South East Asia. I hope nobody mentions that if they want the economies to continue burgeoning it might not be smart to invest in an Australian movie. Most Australian movies are either Wank--fests for wannabe intellectuals or bogan bullshit that makes Carry On movies look like Stanley Kubrick. I don't think ours is either but I could be wrong -- it's happened before.

I think I might have to get a sensible job next year.

We did spend a fantastic week in Melbourne. What a terrific town that is. I've been there before but usually for work on a fly in, do job, piss off basis. We did spend about five days there once but with a bloke called Paul Firman -- an old mate of Dougie -- who only ever came out of the pub to visit a girlfriend or nightclub. As a consequence we saw bugger all but bars. You might actually know Firman in which case you will understand. I haven't seen Firman or, more important, Doug for ages. Must do something about that.

Great feel in Melbourne, it looks good, the people are friendly and there's heaps going on. If I wasn't such a miserable old bar steward I'd seriously consider a move.

Anyway. I'm going to sod off now.

I'll let you know what happens with the January biz.

Frank