“I hereby call this meeting to order!” cried Doyle, banging a large and imaginary gavel against the table. Bruce covered his ears and braced for impact, not entirely aware that the hammer which he had hallucinated into Doyle’s hand was not real.

Stu nodded sincerely at Doyle’s pronouncement, apparently satisfied that the meeting had, indeed, been called to order. Bruce uncovered his ears, cautiously, perhaps fearing another hammer swing.

We were seated around a table for the first official olilolo meeting of the year. Empty pie trays littered the scene, four or five deep in some places. Doyle attempted to sweep the mess aside, but the piles of rubbish toppled and scattered even further in every direction.

I found potato dumplings in the supermarket the other day.

This is big news. I LOVE potato dumplings. They serve no purpose other than to suck up gravy and be delicious – and possibly glue up your insides as they’re pretty sticky. However, the immature child in me noticed something about the brand which caught me by surprise and had me giggling in the aisles.

The Australian Government has last week announced a new, third-option for gender on their passports. It’s aimed at ending the discrimination of some groups and will be fast tracked through parliment. The change will take place in the comming months.

Charities and Support Groups have welcomed the moved, and have voiced their approval for the new legislation.

“This is a revolutionary step forward for Australia. I don’t think there’s another country out there that has made this decision. The government should be commended for being at the forefront of political correctness,” said Mrs John Smith of the Salvation Army.

One of acheter du viagra en ligne the best things I have ever seen on youtube.

The Mansfield Sasquatches, lead out by their courageous and downright dashing captain Doyle, took the field Wednesday night for what was the first game of their 11th season playing Touch Football.

Analysts have speculated that this would be another season of disappointment for the fan-favourites with one commentator going so far as to question their skill level at the sport they’ve been playing for so long.

“They’re fucking incompetent.”

I don’t mind ironing, although I don’t claim to be very good at it. There’s a certain homely charm in the smell of the fabric as it passes under the heat. However to be honest, when the alarm goes off and I have to make the decision to get up in the sub-10 degree weather and iron my shirt, or to sneak another 10 minutes beneath my toasty warm doona, I will invariably put the ironing off. Unfortunately this means that I am normally horribly late to work.

Tonight I decided to do my week’s ironing in one hit, so I never have to face this dilemma and can glide blissfully into each day without needing to complete any unpleasant activities before my first coffee, and hopefully not get fired.

Well, that was the theory anyway. Somehow tonight I have managed to ineptly ruin every single implement involved in the ironing process in a Rube-Goldberg-machine-like chain of destruction. I will recount to you how I found myself in this predicament.

These are the few things I’ve learnt over the last two years of fatherhood:

- Putting a ‘reduced to clear’ sticker on your newborn’s head head may seem clever, but it will cause a rash for several days.

- Children learn to mimic you. It’s not long before they are laughing at their own farts. I’m told this is wrong.

- Your not allowed to teach your kid to splash your wife every time she passes the bathroom, not only is it irritating for her, but then the little shit’ll then slip on the wet floor at least once a week, cracking his head. The sound of crying is unpleasant on the ears.