Can you please not shit here?

I love magpies. They are very pretty and have a deeply melodic sing-song that is prettier than Adele warbling Skyfall. But I must have asked them a thousand times to not bloody sit and shit on my balcony, and I don't believe they are sorry at all for all the shits they have done. So today I'm training them to not do that any more. They can come and drink the water out of the used chinese food container (First mistake. I know. I KNOW) but then they must not loiter, gasbagging with their mates.

It turns out talking reason to a magpie doesn't really work. They just squawk at you. Or start singing. I might start doing that in heated embattled conversations. Just start fucking warbling. It's the magpies version of putting your fingers in your ears and yelling blah blah blah.

Second mistake: I'm not trying to be mean and bossy about it. I'm a Caramello when it comes to the animal kingdom, but it's about to get feisty in the jungle because they keep on coming like a bunch of Angry Birds and don't seem to be listening to my very, very sound words of wisdom. Apart from anything else, it's just common courtesy to not shit on someone's balcony, unless they deserve it. It's almost like they don't know right from wrong. I blame their parents.

Like all good community service messages, I think a sign needs to be erected depicting a bird on a toilet and a big red "no-no" line through it. Signs always stop criminals. And I'll make it all official with a replica Australian Government coat-of-arms, so they can have it out. Bird-to-bird.

Sharknado hits Bruce Stadium

Last night a freak storm hit Bruce Stadium in Canberra. It was so stormy that it caused a football team amount of sharks to be scooped up in water spouts and flood the place with shark-infested water, as often happens when sharks infest waters. We in the movie industry call that a sharknado.

Like all great cinematic disaster films, only the shit people drowned. Unfortunately, as has been the case with all the sharknados I have survived, it's nearly always the vulnerable and the people I push into the eye of the storm that are the first to go. It's very sad, but you can't fight nature.

While most people survived the flood, you'll be very pleased to know that many of them got eaten by sharks in a dramatic, cinematic fashion. I suppose that was sad in a way, for them. But worse was to come. 

Tragically, my team, the home team, the team that didn't cause the sharknado, lost the game in a deeply traumatic way and now I have all the sad feelings. I shall seek therapy to cope with it all.

I went onto the Sharknado's website to see where in the world they are from. Turns out it's somewhere in South Africa. I would do better research if I cared. 

Their cheerleaders, as is often the way with the cheerleaders, are dressed in blah fashioned into blah blah blah with their deep neckline fashioned into a sharkbite. It's technically really hard to explain, but I could probably do it justice by describing it as Skanknado chic.