The Day We Didn’t Meet Kylie

I will be happy to know that as this goes to press I am still alive. As it happend, my 28th year on Planet Reebok started off pretty good. For a change my birthday would fall in a summer month and may even be a scorcher I thought. Content with these high spirits we planned to take a canoe out onto the huge Brisbane River. Guaranteed ‘how the hell do I paddle?...is that a crocodile?...how far away does that ferry look to you?’ style comments would make for a memorable day. Unfortunately it absolutley pissed it down from start to finish. Obviously, it was scorching the day before and has been ever since. Look at me acting like the fact it was my birthday controlled the whole weather system for an entire state in Australia. I didn’t think I had it in me. So, the canoeing expo was replaced with a shopping in town trip. Not as entertaining but with an equal amount of water.

Not many of you know this but I have an ultimate fantasy. Not the obvious ‘sisters…lesbians’ one that no doubt so many of you predicted. One where I am walking down the street. It’s a busy city street. The weather is hot and there are hoards of people milling about, shopping, going about their daily business. Then I innocently spark off a bit of dialogue with a passer by. Maybe I ask them for the time or the directions to the nearest Subway. They reply by not simply telling me, but by singing the answer. Then a man walking by sees this and sings another line. It has a domino affect and before I know it the whole shopping mall is involved in a wonderfully choreographed musical show stopper. Dear Jim, please can you fix it for me… If only. Unfortunately, I can’t really see this ever happening. But up there on my list would be my McDonalds experience on Saturday.

There me an Tom sat, strawberry milkshake turning to concrete in the straw, as we people watched the day away. Now, I’m not blowing my own clarinet (I would if I could reach) but if people watching was an olympic event Tom would have ‘sir’ prefixing his name and I would at least be a team captain on ‘A Question Of Sport.’ Whole historys for people get invented - from names, lifestyles, childhood experiences, dental records, whether they’d rather be Eminem or 50 Cent and so on. Tom has even been known to follow people home to authenticate his assumptions. And he never gets it wrong. He’s like a slightly weirder version of Columbo. He even does that whole lazy eye thing when he gets too involved in the activity. Anyway, we’re sat there laughing at the usual mixture of freaks and uniques and who should stroll in but Marilyn Monroe. I say Marilyn but it might have been Malcolm. If you took Marilyn Monroe’s Madame Tussaud’s statue and stood it next to her it would look pretty similar. Just make sure that beforehand you’ve melted it down and completely remoulded it into a Graham Norton lookalike with a blonde wig stuck on. I mean, stuck on anywhere. He/she/it had the full get up though and as it was my birthday I was looking for a JFK style present. Not like that you animals, but I wanted a birthday wish. So there I stood, middle of Maccy’s, getting Happy Birthday sung to me in the style of Mazza M. To be fair she sounded just like her. I would have killed for that picture. Oh well. Apparently she is a well known local nutcase and in summer time often parades around town in a bikini. God willing, if I can brave that vision I will get a photo of her then. I love Brisbane for people watching. Just the other day we were sat at a café when a small and expensively dressed lady walked infront of us. “Is that Kylie Minogue?” said Tom. “No,” I said, for it was not. I think that illustrates the complexities of this great nation.

Night time on my birthday saw a few beers out in the Valley and the birth of our new invention - the Camel Toe Stopper. As well as making us overnight millionaires, it will aslo prevent a lot of female embarrassment by filling a rather favourable hole in the market! Later in the night on the dirve home we passed some curb side commotion. “There!” said Stu, “It really is Kylie Minogue.” “Keep driving,” I said, for it was not. This will forever go down as the birthday when I didn’t see Kylie. I also didn’t see Jason. Coincidence? Not if you’re supersticious like me. Or if you have OCD and need to repeat the last sentence 3 times. Or if you have OCD and need to repeat the last sentence 3 times. Or if you have OCD and need to repeat the last sentence 3 times. Or if you have OCD and need to repeat the last sentence 3 times.