Doing it diagonal

Fashion trends change, but preppy boys endure.

Donning the most classic threads in pretty-boy pastels has been a time honoured tradition for your typical upper class wanker WASP. Your local grammar boy fancies his fair share of nancy (boy) attire.

And why? Well it's clear that an upturned collar on one's treasured Ralph Lauren polo top is sure to get the girls. But teaming it with some tan coloured boat shoes and some dressy chinos? That's sure to get the boys.

Quite.

However, I am glad to say that after 50 or so years, the traditional interpretation of the knotted jumper over the shoulders has been radically re-cast.

In 2009, we're doing it diagonal. Oh yes, that's right. My time up in Sydney was memorable in a lot of ways but the official outing of the 'diagonal preppy' brought a tear to my eye.

This twist on the 50s iconic "mode of jumper/sweater wearing" will live a long life, I'm sure.

Enjoy.

Masterchef has jumped the shark at the last.

Last night, Masterchef Australia was a complete JOKE.

It bounded over the superorder selachimorpha in one fell swoop:

This phenomenon occurred with the elimination of Chris I'm-kind-of-a-big-deal Badenoch.

Julie's emotional plea juxtaposed against Chris's arrogant I-want-to-win-so-I-can-say-I'm-a-winner diatribe shows that you don't even have to be that talented to ensure your dreams can come true. One small tug of the proverbial heart strings means you not only send a solid fist up Chris's special enclave designed to be the outlet for no 2s, but get the chance to win when you SUCK.

Julie did not even FINISH the challenge. She made BORING BORING BORING meals. It should have been an open and shut case - bye bye Julie, 38, IT Consultant from NSW.

But instead, that piffle about an empty last chapter - pfffffft - in conjunction with the 'my sons will be shown unequivocally that you can achieve your dreams' got her over the line. And there was some seriously bizarre chemistry between Jules and Donna you-are-a-thieving-money-hungry-bitch Hay.

WHYYYYYYYY did this happen?

Julie has barely scraped through all week. She has been lucky that someone has stuffed up even more than her - Lucas, Julia and then I'm-still-coping-with-her-elimination-and-in-therapy Justine. Apart from Chris's Malaysian vomit-titous disaster, he has won or come second all week. Showing that he can mix it with the best of them and making desserts that are not meant to be baked by human beings. He may be arrogant but he can back it up.

And in terms of growth over the time in the Masterchef kitchen, Chris HAS. While he has been meat + beer-centic, he has evolved. Last night he put up three interesting dishes with twists that combine his old flames and his flashy, new techniques. As did Poh's art-astic 100 year old egg and dumplings and swampy green goop (although this is not without its issues - see below), coupling colour with sheer stinkiness... and somehow making it taste quite unlike a public toilet with 5L of diarrheoa. Kudos.

But what did Julie cook? A lamb roast. Pedestrian cuisine. Even I, the cooking-free individual, think that is bloody shit.

Well yes, it's still preferable to a date with couch jumping scientologists.

Let us review the brief. DH says - it has to be lickable, it had to be about presentation and about innovation.

I ask you this Australia: How is same old, same old lamb roast innovative? How is flourless chocolate cake without any sauce or cream 'lickable'? How is chicken with pistachio nuts in it presentable to someone that wants to actually STAY AWAKE for more than one second?

Whilst Chris might have had some taste issues with his dishes, there should have been some recognition that he used those weird pressure cooker things. And was just generally awesome over the last two months.

As noted above, another point of: WHYYYYYYYYYYYY did that happen related to Poh.

Poh - why, when given just "5 minutes" in a pantry, can she suddenly find the hardest of hard ingredients to find at Asian supermarkets? And then quickly plan three brilliant recipes? I smell a rat. She had to have had prior knowledge of the pantry containing the 100 year old egg and the squid ink and the green mush stuff.

Whilst I am all about The Poh after the cruel exit of Chris:

Future winner.

I am still secretly wishing I could slide into an alternate reality where Justine is pitted against Chris in the ultimate cooking Battle Royale.

I'm off to Macca's now - YOU SEE CHANNEL 10, YOU SEE WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO TO MYSELF??????!?

Actually I'm only going to the Golden Arches because I now need to save up for (1) a trip to Chris's restaurant; (2) Chris's cookbook From Snout to Tail: from Stout to Ale; and (3) Julie's cookbook Our family table, just so I can burn it alongside John Lithgow from Footloose - mwhahahhahahaaha.

Missing Masterchef

I love this show more than eating and sleeping at the moment. I watch with sheer delight. Raptures aplenty.

And so when I missed it last night, I cried/died on the inside simultaneously.

Luckily I have the lowdown from a special guest star, a one-of-a-kind, Herringbone lady. I felt like I was there just reading it.

For your reading pleasure:

So. We begin with Poh and the big advantage. Though really, knowing what is in the dish in the pressure test isn't the greatest advantage because it's all about the timing... When they all arrive the next morning, they are greeted with an innocent little chocolate mousse cake. Not so bad.

Then they are told that they will have 3 hours to make it. Hmmmm.

The chef is Adriano Zumbo, creator of the Croquembouche (if you didn't see that one, you should totally look it up. Horrifically intricate dessert). Yet, when asked, Zumbo says that this dessert is way more difficult. And he's not wrong.

The cake is essentially a layer cake. The layers are:

• Pate sable cinnamon, a baked biscuit-esque crust.
  
• apple tatin insert, essentially a layer of caramelised apple.
  
• salted caramel.
  
• biscuit décor jaconde covered in a cigarette décor paste. Essentially this is a kind of almond meal and egg white baked layer with a thin layer of paste on the top.
  
• Chocolate blackberry sabayon mousse with blackberry ganache
  

The bottom layer is the sable. Then a layer of mousse, a layer of jaconde, layer of apple tatin, layer of mousse, layer of jaconde, layer of salted caramel and topped with a layer of mousse. Then it is sprayed with a chocolate spray gun. Very industrial. VERY DIFFICULT.

The chef actually said that if he gave it to anyone in his own kitchen, no one would be able to do it first time. So they begin.

Chris is all cool and calm from the start. Also saying nasty things about how great it is when other people stuff up. You can think it, but you can't say it on national tv!!!

I feel like Poh will be ok because it is so fiddly and she has the whole art thing.

I am sure Julie will mess it up.

Justine seems ok, but she is sooooooooooo bad at time management. still, she seems good at the fiddly dishes.

So, Julie is actually super organised. She still makes unforgivable mistakes. This time, she actually forgot a layer of jaconde. So a couple of her layers must have been bleeding into each other because the jaconde is supposed to act as a barrier. How you forget something like that when it's all on the recipe card is beyond me. Still, she is the only person to actually finish the desert. She gets all the decorations on and it looks really nice at the end.

Everyone else stuffs up the timing. Chris manages to spray the cake with the spray gun and tack a few decorations on, but not to full effect. Justine is further behind and sprays the cake and scatters a couple of nuts on top. Poh is a disaster. The cake is layered upside down, so with the top level of mousse at the bottom of the mould. The mould has some round domes in it, so that when you upturn the cake, the mousse at the top has half-circle indents all over it. Poh's mousse didn't set properly, so when it peeled away from the mould, some of the half-circles stuck and she was left with some really ugly craters in her cake. But she only had time to spray it and then put it on a plate. It looked like the surface of the moon, sprayed with cocoa.

Anyway, Poh's goes to taste first. Everyone comments that it is really ugly. And when it is cut up, the caramel is not really set and kind of oozes everywhere. Still, they seem to like it and comment favourably on the taste.

Chris is next. His cake looks neat. Annoyingly, when it is cut open, all the layers remain exactly where they're supposed to. It get's very favourable comments all round.

Julie is next. Her cake looks great. When she cuts into it, the bottom layer is too thick and very hard to cut through. It is a bit of a caramel mess as well, but the judges seem to think it tastes pretty good.

Justine is last. Her cake looks pretty ordinary. Her bottom layer is also too thick and hard. It looks a massive mess when it is cut up. More caramel everywhere. The judges seem to think it tastes ok.

Chris's cake is the clear winner. I thought Poh's was clearly the next best.

First they tell Chris he's safe. Then they tell Julie she's safe. I suspect this was for dramatic effect, pitting the beautiful girls against each other, and the ones with the biggest following. But it kind of had the opposite effect as we all knew that Justine and Julie made the two worst cakes, so as soon as Julie was safe, you knew that Justine was out.

Then began the cry-fest. First Matt, then Gary, then even George had a tear. They all love her (I don't blame them because I love her also). Gary and George both said that they want her in their restaurants, but so does Jacques Reymond and also Matt Moran. Blah blah, love in, then she leaves. Here's hoping Julie is gone tomorrow and we can get down to the serious Poh v Chris.

I am now all for Poh. She's great!

5 products I would like to purchase

From U to D: Tell-it-like-it-is post-it notes, Nintendo tinned mints, Pacman Ghost tinned mints, a USB mixed tape (ooh yeah) and a Rubik's cube clock






Mmmmmhmmm - ahhhhaaaaa.

The manner of speaking

Eloquence enthusiasts take heed. You are close to annihilation! Come out, come out and defend your turf wherever you are!

After watching yesterday's episode of Insiders on the ABC, it finally all falls into place:

Just like Thom said it would. Maynard he too knows that the pieces fit.

Invisible question marks; parenthetical 'you knows' and 'do you know what I means' have been attaching themselves to sentences for the last few years.

Why has this disturbing phenomenon swept through society like a ravaging vaginal rash? Is the hoy poloy now only capable of speculation and contemplation? Has the human race been overrun with a sense of 'meh' and 'whatever'? Is gross inarticulation the order of the day, year and century?

ARGH!

And it is not confined to the people who were never taught proper grammar at school either. It's everywhere, albeit under slightly different guises.

'Sort of' and 'almost' are the grown up versions of 'like' and 'do you know what I mean'.

For example, demi-god Barrie Cassidy has said:

But it's not just raking over history though because for a while there seemed to be this almost obsession with your preselections that you went for the average Joe rather than the sort of party professional. I suppose Jackie Kelly was the best demonstration of that.

And Malcolm gee-you-really-stuffed-up-with-that-whole-fake-email-thing-but-hey-give-me-some-of-your-money-and-I'll-forgive-you Turnbull has dished out:

If you have a sort of black gallows sense of humour you may recall on Thursday, Julie Bishop the shadow treasurer asked Wayne Swan whether the Government guarantee on wholesale funding, the fee charged for that, would be higher for a BBB rated bank than for a AA rated bank.

And even our beloved leader, K-Rudd:

You know, people ask, you know, what's all this about. Let me just say a few basic things. Personally, I am a huge believer in local government. For me, it's just normal and natural, there's no great sort of trick in this. It's an important, fundamental elementary part of Australia's national life, what you do.

I get the feeling that declarative statements were, sort of, you know, early naughties. Do you, like, know what I mean?

Am I the only living practitioner of the English language that desperately tries to not fall victim to this strange yet addictive affliction? Is there anyone else out there that feels my pain? Articulate your thoughts if you would be so kind.

Yours,
No 1 sufferer of DIS (Diction Irrelevance Syndrome).

Follow your dreams.

Alternatively, buy a panflute. Don't ask yourself if you need one or you won't buy one... and then you would be left with NOTHING.

What am I talking about? I ask myself sometimes too. I think there was a time when my brain lacked oxygen...

More than you are.

Warning! Warning! Aliens approaching! This blog post is highly auto-biographical and should only be read by ridiculously keen readers.

The people: How is that any different to the other tripe you post on this thing?

Kid A: Good point.

So read on...

This morning I was listening to triple j and they played Grinspoon's magical music creation:

Were you neurotic as a child?



Did they come around and watch your style?



Did you have plans to be a star?


Did you have plans to become more than you are?


I know I can answer a resounding YES to all those questions.

Not only that, I have fond memories of uni o-week when I indeed partied like it was 1999, because, well, it was. This song used to blast out of the speakers every day to wake up the poor little freshers, which I was one, that resided in a certain castle-like college. Then, of course, we would continually 'reminisce' about that first week every month or so for the next 3 years at college turns.

This got me a touch misty eyed and I thought I would compile a list of things that I missed about 1999:

• My first car - a 1997 Ford Laser Sedan with manual transmission (oh how I miss you, Mr Gear Stick).
  
• My laptop with a Windows 95 operating system, while it took about 5 minutes of whirring fan noises to turn on, it had my Freecell record -- a streak of 32o wins or so.
• "Working" as a promoter at Silvers which was the biggest rort ever. You got $1 and $1 worth of drinkcards for each person you got in on your doorlist (averaged about 30 each Thursday), but that equated to being a LOT OF ALCOHOL. Not only that, it helped to have a tech-savvy friend who scanned the drink card and printed off 20 or so meaning that a few of us would drink Coronas and other expensive drinks instead of $1 pots. Ooh yeah.
• On that note, also busted into several college balls - I seem to have a hazy recollection of White Russian at Whitley/Ridley.
  
• The Lemontree and annoying Alex JESAAAAAULLLLLLLEEEEEEENNNNNNKKKKOOO two doors down upon leaving.
  
• The Downunder (hang on, no wait, I don't miss that, that was f*n horrible with that crazy banana tasting Geelong Bitter).
• The excessively large pool of people to pash at uni because let's face it, you had already been with everyone decent in your small country town and were looking down the barrel of round two.
• My patent Airwalks - they were so hot right then. And my Royal Elastics. They were sooo beautiful.
• $1.50 sushi handrolls at uni.
• Thinking glitter was an acceptable form of eye make up.
• Jack-Jack-Jackie. Jackie when you're touching my soul in the candlelight.
  
• My triangle pillow. Those were good times.
• My waterbed. You may think - what was I thinking? - but I liked it. Even after seeing that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street 4, where a girl gets trapped in her water bed. (I'm sorry - that was the worst of the Nightmare series! The tone is set at the start when Freddy comes back to life through dog's pi$$!)
• Carlton actually being a solid AFL side. Ol' reliable Carlton. And while they lost the Grand Final that year to Wayne Carey North, they were the shiz. Andrew McKay, Fraser Brown, Matthew Lappin... the list of stars is as long as Dirk Diggler's Doodle.
  
• The excitement when Brett Lee burst on to the cricket scene as the 'next big thing'.
• Fitting into size 8 pants.
• Being able to sleep anywhere, anytime.

Memories like the corner of my mind.

Indeed Nana.

Keep the dream alive.

Do it, do it, do it!

Mmmm... oh yeah.... oh baby.

So it was pointed out to me that my last blog post was particularly nasty. I'm sorry about that. I'll endeavour to keep things above the belt (which of course resides on the floor).

Peace out.

Hey now, hey now, the dream is over.

Questions are always out there. Like the truth.

Question 1: Do you lay awake at night wondering whether Lleyton will un-impale himself out of his quasi-retirement to retake the title of, ooh, any tennis tournament?

C'mmoooon!

Neither do I.

How un-Australian of me. That's not true. I'm just a tortured little soul. After being left completely bereft upon hearing of the death of the late Mr Michael Jackson and not to mention Ms Farah Fawcett (who?), I just have nothing more to give for little Lleyton.

Question 2: Did anyone out there stay glued to the couch to watch last night's epic 5 set titanic struggle between our man Hewy and Andy eyes-so-close-together-they-are-almost-side-by-side-and-what-the-hell-is-with-that-weird-serving-technique Roddick?

That's Hewy, not spewy.

Neither did I.

But when I found out the result - well, the tears flowed! My chest was beaten in rage against this extremely unfair turn that the universe has taken! Emotional words of wisdom abound (he was injured etc)! Ermmm... or not.

So anyway, I am loving Sydney in all its sunny glory. What is there not to love about it? Actually one thing - do not buy 3 rice paper rolls for $3.50 at the Hunter Connection. Why? Well the prawns come with free poopy in their digestive tract. Ewwwwwww. And it's some serious black stuff. Fingers crossed I don't end up looking like that blonde chick in the photo in circa 40 minutes.

Mwa to you and see you on the flipside (or maybe not, considering I don't anticipate catching a Yemenia Airlines flight at any time in this lifetime).