Recapped By Darzelle Wixton-Smythe, In Between A Maths Class And An Intensive Cuticle-Reduction Session.
This show is getting really hard to follow, so I figured if you’re as confused as I am, which is even more confused than the Jonas Brothers are, it’s probably time I got you all caught up with the characters. Any I’ve left out probably don’t matter, and the actors probably just knew the director or something.
Matthew Newton
AKA Tirry, AKA Mr Asia, AKA Big-Head-Bluey-Starey-Eyes. Has lots of sex with Alison because she’s clever, and looks at people a lot. Has just worked out how to smuggle icing sugar in suitcases, and gets cross when he’s invited to dinner but dinner’s not ready yet.
Alison
Alison is a person attached to some boobs and some pretty good hair. She goes overseas a lot for a kindy teacher.
Robert Trimboli
Trimboli gives out sandwiches and passports, and likes to gamble. He also likes to have dinner with policemen at fugly restaurants called the Capri something, and gets people arrested at the airport. He’s sort of like a friendly old uncle who imports heroin and has people killed and stuff.
Brian Kane
Kane is angry because he has a bad porn moustache, and because his brother got shot, and because he can’t get anybody to kill the guy who killed his brother. He tries to hide his bad moustache with an even worse beard, and shoots Ray Chuck right in the courthouse.
Sally Fletcher
Sally was married to Les Kane before he got shot, and now she sees all her memories backwards in slow motion. She mostly just looks wistful and cries, I think because she still hasn’t got around to changing her mank wallpaper because she’s been too busy mopping blood off the floor. She needs to get her priorities right hahaha!
Ray Chuck And The Chucky Uggers
Ray and the Uggers go to jail for shooting Les Kane, but because they did such a good job of chopping him up or whatever, they get set free and play soccer. Except Ray gets arrested again for stealing, and makes friends with Chopper Read and then gets shot.
The Mumbler
The Mumbler is a guy called Chris Flannery, and I can’t understand a single effing word he says. His hobbies are taking credit for killing people he didn’t, watching girls kiss, and saying ‘fuck’ in the nude.
The Couriers
The Couriers smuggle icing sugar for Matthew Newton, and there’s a guy, a girl, and Wayne, who is Alison’s ex-boyfriend. Their dinner parties aren’t very good, because they fall asleep and shit on the stairs.
Lady Gaga
Lady Gaga is a police lady who isn’t very good at her job but is quite good at looking worried. She lets her kid hang out in the police station but doesn’t catch Brian Kane because she can’t run in hot boots.
Chopper Read
Eric Bana has totally let himself go.
Freeman
This guy has white hair and a casino, and needs a good exfoliant.
Cute Cops
Cute cops aren’t corrupt, but they sort of find it hard to get anything done.
Fugly Cops
Fugly cops are corrupt, and have heaps of time for gambling and eating dinner and sandwiches.
Boobs
These are like, the stars of the show.
New Guy
New Guy walks over the top of a police car.
That’s everybody nearly, except for the baby and the poodle.
You’re welcome.
.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Monday, March 02, 2009
Urban Decay 8
Part 8: Where Did I Put My Car Keith?
(Confused, or reminiscing about what Keith Urban looked like before we subjected him to a thousand indignities? Go read parts one through seven. Yes, SEVEN. That’s how long we’ve been doing this ridiculous shi… er, worthwhile and culturally significant project for).
Keith adores a bit of a drive. He likes nothing more than getting behind the wheel out on the open road, window down, breeze ruffling his bleach-frosted, artfully tousled hair, song ideas looming in the rear-vision mirror, closer than they appear.
Unfortunately for Keith, with his track record, hardly anybody will let him behind the wheel anymore. So when Keith asked my mate KJ if he could drive her car, she said no.
“How about if Russ drives, and I sit on his lap?” asked Keith.
“No” said KJ.
“Passenger seat?” whined Keith.
“No” said KJ.
“Boot?” nagged Keith, scratching his nose and letting out a small fart.
“No” said KJ.
Then we had an idea.
(Confused, or reminiscing about what Keith Urban looked like before we subjected him to a thousand indignities? Go read parts one through seven. Yes, SEVEN. That’s how long we’ve been doing this ridiculous shi… er, worthwhile and culturally significant project for).
Keith adores a bit of a drive. He likes nothing more than getting behind the wheel out on the open road, window down, breeze ruffling his bleach-frosted, artfully tousled hair, song ideas looming in the rear-vision mirror, closer than they appear.
Unfortunately for Keith, with his track record, hardly anybody will let him behind the wheel anymore. So when Keith asked my mate KJ if he could drive her car, she said no.
“How about if Russ drives, and I sit on his lap?” asked Keith.
“No” said KJ.
“Passenger seat?” whined Keith.
“No” said KJ.
“Boot?” nagged Keith, scratching his nose and letting out a small fart.
“No” said KJ.
Then we had an idea.
First part of idea: put Keith in a shopping bag and tie it up with yellow ribbon.
Second part of idea: tie Keith-In-A-Bag to the tow-bar of KJ's car. Give Russ the keys.
Third and easily best part of idea: Let the fanging commence.
All in all, Keith came through it pretty well.
Stay tuned. Keith clearly needs you.
.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Underbelly, A Tale Of Two Cities - Episode 3
Recapped By Darzelle Wixton-Smythe, In Between Shopping For Accessories And Hating Leighton Meester.
Fugliest.
Episode.
Ever.
OMG, if it wasn’t for Sally Fletcher and Lady Gaga, this episode would have made me vomit up my cold soba noodles and dipping sauce. There’s even a guy whose surname is Chuck. There is no way people in the seventies really looked that mank and had pictures of forests wall-papered onto their kitchen. Okay, I can accept that they didn’t have mobile phones or spin classes or shows about vampires back then, but bull everybody wore tracksuits. LIES.
Pubs were really dangerous in the seventies. You could hardly walk into one without being hit with an ashtray, or bashed with the butt end of a gun, or seeing someone wearing flannelette. Now pubs are a lot safer because there’s no ashtrays or flannelette, and anyway I go to The Ivy.
Alison’s totally not even bothering with clothes anymore. She’s just sitting around in the nude in a hotel room with Matthew Newton, saying “Mirry Chrustmus, sixy” and drinking champagne. She has a pretty good idea about cutting the bottom out of suitcases to hide heroin, and she’s really good at maths, which turns Matthew Newton on. If only someone cut the bottom out of Matthew Newton, then we wouldn’t have to look at his anymore hahahaha! He gives Alison heaps of icing sugar to thank her.
There was a confusing bit this week. Okay, so Robert Trimboli sends people to sell drugs in Melbourne. Some uggers (led by Ray Chuck, so I’ll call them the ‘Chucky Uggers’) steal some money from one of Trimboli’s dealers. Trimboli sends the Kane brothers to threaten the Chucky Uggers, which makes the Chucky Uggers want to kill the Kane brothers. Trimboli helps sell the Chucky Uggers some guns to kill one of the Kane brothers, meaning that Trimboli got some of his money back from the guy who stole it in the first place.
So basically I worked that out all by myself instead of doing my Biology homework, but I should be able to get extra credit, because that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever done if you don’t count predicting that vinyl leggings would be huge.
Lady Gaga makes everybody some tea.
Sally Fletcher is in this show, but she’s stopped going on about Milko. She’s married to one of the Kane brothers, and she’s cross because she lives in an ugly house with ugly furniture and has to answer the ugly phone, and because the Chucky Uggers machine-gun her husband to death and leave a mess. She eventually tells the police about it, and Lady Gaga tries not to cry. She keeps her poker face.
Next week the hair gets even worse, and there’s more suitcases, guns and boobs, and there might be more Dieter Brummer. I mean, watching this show is like watching Home And Away through a brown filter.
I have to go get stuff waxed. I’ll see you next week.
Fugliest.
Episode.
Ever.
OMG, if it wasn’t for Sally Fletcher and Lady Gaga, this episode would have made me vomit up my cold soba noodles and dipping sauce. There’s even a guy whose surname is Chuck. There is no way people in the seventies really looked that mank and had pictures of forests wall-papered onto their kitchen. Okay, I can accept that they didn’t have mobile phones or spin classes or shows about vampires back then, but bull everybody wore tracksuits. LIES.
Pubs were really dangerous in the seventies. You could hardly walk into one without being hit with an ashtray, or bashed with the butt end of a gun, or seeing someone wearing flannelette. Now pubs are a lot safer because there’s no ashtrays or flannelette, and anyway I go to The Ivy.
Alison’s totally not even bothering with clothes anymore. She’s just sitting around in the nude in a hotel room with Matthew Newton, saying “Mirry Chrustmus, sixy” and drinking champagne. She has a pretty good idea about cutting the bottom out of suitcases to hide heroin, and she’s really good at maths, which turns Matthew Newton on. If only someone cut the bottom out of Matthew Newton, then we wouldn’t have to look at his anymore hahahaha! He gives Alison heaps of icing sugar to thank her.
There was a confusing bit this week. Okay, so Robert Trimboli sends people to sell drugs in Melbourne. Some uggers (led by Ray Chuck, so I’ll call them the ‘Chucky Uggers’) steal some money from one of Trimboli’s dealers. Trimboli sends the Kane brothers to threaten the Chucky Uggers, which makes the Chucky Uggers want to kill the Kane brothers. Trimboli helps sell the Chucky Uggers some guns to kill one of the Kane brothers, meaning that Trimboli got some of his money back from the guy who stole it in the first place.
So basically I worked that out all by myself instead of doing my Biology homework, but I should be able to get extra credit, because that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever done if you don’t count predicting that vinyl leggings would be huge.
Lady Gaga makes everybody some tea.
Sally Fletcher is in this show, but she’s stopped going on about Milko. She’s married to one of the Kane brothers, and she’s cross because she lives in an ugly house with ugly furniture and has to answer the ugly phone, and because the Chucky Uggers machine-gun her husband to death and leave a mess. She eventually tells the police about it, and Lady Gaga tries not to cry. She keeps her poker face.
Next week the hair gets even worse, and there’s more suitcases, guns and boobs, and there might be more Dieter Brummer. I mean, watching this show is like watching Home And Away through a brown filter.
I have to go get stuff waxed. I’ll see you next week.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Urban Decay 7
Part 7: The Urban Babysitter.
(If it’s your first visit here and this doesn’t make sense, you might need to go back and read parts one through six. If it’s your first visit here and this does make sense, then… y’know… congratulations).
Keith Urban became a father recently, and he’s commendably committed to the job. Keith believes that, like playing guitar and drinking, the more you practice, the better you get. So when my mate David had a barbecue a couple of weeks ago and invited about fourteen thousand children, Keith was only too happy to help out.
(If it’s your first visit here and this doesn’t make sense, you might need to go back and read parts one through six. If it’s your first visit here and this does make sense, then… y’know… congratulations).
Keith Urban became a father recently, and he’s commendably committed to the job. Keith believes that, like playing guitar and drinking, the more you practice, the better you get. So when my mate David had a barbecue a couple of weeks ago and invited about fourteen thousand children, Keith was only too happy to help out.
Hey, kids!
Uncle Keith is here!
First person to shoot him off the top of the bin gets a new bike!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Underbelly, A Tale Of Two Cities - Episode 2
By Darzelle Wixton-Smythe
Okay, so it looks like in every episode of this show there’ll be one chopped up body in a bag and eighty thousand nipples. I haven’t seen so many boobs since I last tried on a Sass & Bide frock in a David Jones changeroom, and stood right in that corner where the two mirrors meet, and looked at it at the right angle so your reflection kind of goes on forever. Anyway there’s heaps.
So most of the nipples belong to this new girl Alison, who looks like Jessica Simpson before she got heinous fat, but with the same number of pairs of high-waisted shorts. She does the dirty on her boyfriend with Matthew Newton, because her boyfriend didn’t shave after Movember. When she has sex with Matthew Newton it’s really romantic, like in Gossip Girl. OMG I love Chuck Bass.
There are lots of parties at Bondi in this episode, but everyone’s drinking weird cocktails like Pina Coladas and Daiquiris, not real cockails like Jager bombs.
Matthew Newton gets Alison to take some money to Singapore in her make-up bag, and the guards at the airport don’t suspect anything, which is so gay. Anyone who carries that much make-up would do a better job of covering up her freckles – it’s so obvious she’s a smuggler. She also takes some heroin back into Sydney under her gross shirt, but has to run to the toilets to check if she has her period or something, which really freaks her out.
The guy with the worst hair and the worst moustache in the whole show is punished by being internally searched by an airport guard, and then shot and chopped up by Matthew Newton. Alison waits for Matthew Newton in a hotel room, and there’s blood everywhere, so I guess she did get her period after all.
There’s a party to celebrate everyone being mildly more fashionable than last week, and Alison pashes Matthew Newton right in front of his girlfriend, which she kind of deserves, because she’s serving gherkins.
Gambling was illegal in the seventies, which is I guess why heroin was so big then, because without pokies bogans had nothing to do. A lot of the crooked policement gamble, and you can tell they’re crooked because they’re fugly. All the good cops in this show are borderline cute and have hot wives, but dud cars that drive them to Wagga.
I think the casting is dumb on this show. Matthew Newton doesn’t even look Asian.
Next week, it looks like Sally Fletcher and Lady Gaga are on the show, but I don’t know if they get their tits out.
PS: I love Chuck Bass.
Okay, so it looks like in every episode of this show there’ll be one chopped up body in a bag and eighty thousand nipples. I haven’t seen so many boobs since I last tried on a Sass & Bide frock in a David Jones changeroom, and stood right in that corner where the two mirrors meet, and looked at it at the right angle so your reflection kind of goes on forever. Anyway there’s heaps.
So most of the nipples belong to this new girl Alison, who looks like Jessica Simpson before she got heinous fat, but with the same number of pairs of high-waisted shorts. She does the dirty on her boyfriend with Matthew Newton, because her boyfriend didn’t shave after Movember. When she has sex with Matthew Newton it’s really romantic, like in Gossip Girl. OMG I love Chuck Bass.
There are lots of parties at Bondi in this episode, but everyone’s drinking weird cocktails like Pina Coladas and Daiquiris, not real cockails like Jager bombs.
Matthew Newton gets Alison to take some money to Singapore in her make-up bag, and the guards at the airport don’t suspect anything, which is so gay. Anyone who carries that much make-up would do a better job of covering up her freckles – it’s so obvious she’s a smuggler. She also takes some heroin back into Sydney under her gross shirt, but has to run to the toilets to check if she has her period or something, which really freaks her out.
The guy with the worst hair and the worst moustache in the whole show is punished by being internally searched by an airport guard, and then shot and chopped up by Matthew Newton. Alison waits for Matthew Newton in a hotel room, and there’s blood everywhere, so I guess she did get her period after all.
There’s a party to celebrate everyone being mildly more fashionable than last week, and Alison pashes Matthew Newton right in front of his girlfriend, which she kind of deserves, because she’s serving gherkins.
Gambling was illegal in the seventies, which is I guess why heroin was so big then, because without pokies bogans had nothing to do. A lot of the crooked policement gamble, and you can tell they’re crooked because they’re fugly. All the good cops in this show are borderline cute and have hot wives, but dud cars that drive them to Wagga.
I think the casting is dumb on this show. Matthew Newton doesn’t even look Asian.
Next week, it looks like Sally Fletcher and Lady Gaga are on the show, but I don’t know if they get their tits out.
PS: I love Chuck Bass.
Friday, February 13, 2009
My, What A Big Disc You Have, Sir.
Or: Songs And Dongs
Okay, so my mates Sierra Fin have released an EP called Shake Stare Sleep.
There’s squillions of reasons why you should buy a copy, the most important of which are listed below:
Reason One: It’s Really Bloody Good.
If you like talent, music, and rocking with the intensity of a thousand suns, that is.
Reason Two: They’re Hot Bitches.
And they’ve all promised me that if you buy their EP, they’ll send you nude photographs of themselves.
Okay, so my mates Sierra Fin have released an EP called Shake Stare Sleep.
There’s squillions of reasons why you should buy a copy, the most important of which are listed below:
Reason One: It’s Really Bloody Good.
If you like talent, music, and rocking with the intensity of a thousand suns, that is.
Reason Two: They’re Hot Bitches.
And they’ve all promised me that if you buy their EP, they’ll send you nude photographs of themselves.
Reason Three: There’s A Gigantic Stylised Penis On The Cover.
I’ve now dubbed it “The E-Penis”. Because I’m hilarious.
It’s even better when you’re flicking through the racks at your local, and they’ve stored it spine-upwards. Good Morning!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Underbelly, A Tale Of Two Cities - Episode 1
Recapped by Darzelle Wixton-Smythe, an Eastern Suburbs private school girl I just made up.
So, right, there’s this bunch of characters that are supposed to be based on real life people, but with totally fake sideburns.
Matthew Newton is this guy with really blue eyes and a New Zealand accent – he’s all like “guv me the smeck, or I’ll shut on your nick”, or something, and he also paints in the nude. Maybe he paints with his dick, hahaha! His girlfriend stops taking the pill, but it shouldn’t make any difference, because in the sex scene Matthew Newton is like, behind her, and everyone knows you can’t get pregnant like that.
They should call this show Underbelly – The Tale of Two Titties! Hahaha!
Oh, my god, I’ve never seen so much polyester. It’s like Ed Hardy didn’t even exist in the seventies, like Wii or Mickey Rourke.
A guy called Robert Trimboli lives in Griffith, and he grows oranges and makes sandwiches. He organises for this guy, someone Mackay, to get killed, but I don’t know if it’s because Mackay is anti-drugs, anti-oranges, or just sells the ugliest effing furniture I have ever seen in my life.
Anyway, he gets killed and minced, and then his dogs get poisoned, and his wife is upset partly because of that and partly because the wardrobe people keep making her wear orange.
All the policemen smoke a lot, and two of them would be cute if it wasn’t for the totally random sideburns. Everyone’s hair is foul except for the lady policeman, and that’s just because she totally copied her hair from Lady Gaga (OMG I love that song). Some of the policemen are corrupt, and they like sandwiches, which I guess is where Trimboli comes in. I don’t know if any of the policemen like oranges.
The gym in this show is mank. It’s just a whole lot of guys boxing, and there’s no treadmills or Powerade or Body Jam. I didn’t really get this bit, but the guys (whose hair is better than the policemen) do some pushups and then rob the racetrack. They don’t even steal enough money to buy a house.
In the preview for the next episode it looks like the hair is a bit better, so I’ll probably watch it. I don’t know which episode Brooke Satchwell is in, but I hope she doesn’t get minced too.
I’ll see you later. I have to go and buy a handbag.
So, right, there’s this bunch of characters that are supposed to be based on real life people, but with totally fake sideburns.
Matthew Newton is this guy with really blue eyes and a New Zealand accent – he’s all like “guv me the smeck, or I’ll shut on your nick”, or something, and he also paints in the nude. Maybe he paints with his dick, hahaha! His girlfriend stops taking the pill, but it shouldn’t make any difference, because in the sex scene Matthew Newton is like, behind her, and everyone knows you can’t get pregnant like that.
They should call this show Underbelly – The Tale of Two Titties! Hahaha!
Oh, my god, I’ve never seen so much polyester. It’s like Ed Hardy didn’t even exist in the seventies, like Wii or Mickey Rourke.
A guy called Robert Trimboli lives in Griffith, and he grows oranges and makes sandwiches. He organises for this guy, someone Mackay, to get killed, but I don’t know if it’s because Mackay is anti-drugs, anti-oranges, or just sells the ugliest effing furniture I have ever seen in my life.
Anyway, he gets killed and minced, and then his dogs get poisoned, and his wife is upset partly because of that and partly because the wardrobe people keep making her wear orange.
All the policemen smoke a lot, and two of them would be cute if it wasn’t for the totally random sideburns. Everyone’s hair is foul except for the lady policeman, and that’s just because she totally copied her hair from Lady Gaga (OMG I love that song). Some of the policemen are corrupt, and they like sandwiches, which I guess is where Trimboli comes in. I don’t know if any of the policemen like oranges.
The gym in this show is mank. It’s just a whole lot of guys boxing, and there’s no treadmills or Powerade or Body Jam. I didn’t really get this bit, but the guys (whose hair is better than the policemen) do some pushups and then rob the racetrack. They don’t even steal enough money to buy a house.
In the preview for the next episode it looks like the hair is a bit better, so I’ll probably watch it. I don’t know which episode Brooke Satchwell is in, but I hope she doesn’t get minced too.
I’ll see you later. I have to go and buy a handbag.
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