Pinky Poinker Celebrates One Year of Blogging!

                         Thank you to Scotto for the graphic.

Today marks the official end of my first year of blogging.

I've published 153 810 words of inane drivel. Not quite "War and Peace" (560 000 odd words) but if I could just improve the writing style and quality, I may have a book!

Therefore, I thought I’d finish the year with a really self-indulgent, stupid post... so if you’re not in the mood for idiocy I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow when I’ll try to be sensible again.

Pinky's Silly Toilet Humour
There are two more weeks left of the school holidays for us teachers.

I'm very bored now that the festive season is over and Scotto’s gone back to work…

Yesterday, while Scotto and I floated around the pool on blow-up beds escaping the vicious Queensland heatwave, the product Anusol (an ointment recommended for itching, burning haemorrhoids) randomly came into my head. 

I don’t know why, I didn’t have an itchy bottom… but it just did.

“Anus-ol,” I sounded it out slowly.

“Sounds very like anus-hole. Do you think the manufacturers were having a laugh at the public’s expense?” I mused.

Scotto laughed.

I’m always guaranteed a laugh when I say the word ‘anus’ out loud in front of Scotto.

“Poopen Schtinken’s a funny word for it too,” he giggled.

“Where did you hear that? Did you make it up?” I asked curiously, impressed at such an amusing word.

“It’s from a movie,” he replied. “I can’t remember which one…”

This morning, tired of watching infomercials on the telly, I decided to look up “Poopen Schtinken” on Google just to see what I could find.

“Did you mean Schtinken Poopen?” Mr Google replied.

“Okaaaaay… I’ll try anything once,” I thought.

Schtinken Poopen turned out to be the name of a song by an English band called 'Atlases'.

Weirdos.

But I wanted “Poopen Schtinken”.

Did you mean ‘Poop Chicken’? I was rudely interrogated by that know-it-all browser once again.

No. I didn’t. But I had to check it out anyway. It’s not like I had anything else to do…

Poop Chicken (Urban Dictionary)

Similar to playing "chicken" with an opposing car on a road, "poop chicken" begins when you and someone else walk into a public restroom at the same time, both with the intention to take a poop. You go into your separate stalls and then sit there, waiting for the other to leave so that you can do your business in peace. The first person to just get up and leave without pooping loses the game of poop chicken.

Interesting.

Mr Google then suggested I may have meant to type in “Puten Schinken” which most surprisingly turned out to be this… a style of sausage.

There was no link to any movies and even when I put “Poopen Schtinken” into Google Translator it said that the language detected was in actual fact, English.

So there you go. Scotto made up his own special word for bottom hole and he doesn’t even know it.

I know some people hate any discussion about poop whatsoever, so stop reading now if you’re one of those people.

Hello!

…elloooow

…loooow

…oow…

is there an echo in here?

Over the years our family has come up with many pseudonyms for poop.

First there was “Wombat” which was coined by my father when my little brother apparently neglected to flush something the size of a wombat down the toilet.

“Kookaburra” was a name my own kids used for Number Twos and the reason is explained in this funny post!


“A Flynn’s” was the name used by my girlfriend Nettie and myself, after one of us (not Nettie) had a notable incident in the toilets at a local bar of the same name.

I tend to use the term ‘Poodoople’ these days, as in “I need to go poodoople.”

What’s your family name for it? Come on... you know you have one...

Don’t forget about your Best Friend in the Sizzling Australian Heat

While the United States is suffering deadly snowstorms,

Australia is in the midst of a heatwave.

“It’s bloody hot!” are the parrot like words emanating from Pinky’s perspiration-ringed lips every five minutes. Scotto has grounds to commit mariticide, I'm sure.

(It's like I have a form of Tourette's, but no swearing... just constant whinging.)

Scotto and I have spent 80% of our time floating around the pool in order to ward off heat stroke and I can’t imagine what it would be like without air-conditioning when the temperature drops down to a muggy 27 degrees overnight.

As you know, Pinky’s dogs (Borat, Willy, Celine and Pablo) are her substitute babies. They're the loves of my life and I’ve been watching them closely for heat stress.

Watching them lolling around, conserving their energy and panting a lot and I must admit I feel really sorry for the poor mutts.

This is what I’ve been doing to make sure they don’t suffer from the heat.

# Allowing them to come inside the house and chill out under the fan… or at least make sure they have plenty of shade.

                      Me could get used to this!

# Putting ice cubes in their drinking water and frequently checking it’s at an adequate level.

# Hosing them down because dogs can’t sweat

 (Willy runs away and hides behind a pot plant but we still manage to catch him).

                         Rack off mother... I'd rather be hot!

# Taking the smaller ones for a little swim against their wishes.

                              This is animal abuse!

# Feeding them after dark when it’s cooler so their food doesn’t sit in the sun for hours.

We can’t take them to the movies or into air-conditioned shopping centres but at least we’re doing something to make them a little more comfortable.

Hope you’re looking after your best friend.

How a New Toilet Can Make the World a Better Place

                               
For twelve years the toilet, located right outside my bedroom has been physically abused, overstrained (no pun intended) and ill-treated by a glut of youths who couldn’t hit a bull in the ass with a base fiddle.

Some days (especially hot days when the humid air hangs around accentuating even the most delicate odour), I’m frightened to walk past it on the way to my bedroom.

‘What if they forgot to flush it again?’ I’ll think in dread, remembering how twenty year old Hagar had been to Cactus Jack’s the previous night for Cheap Chilli Tuesday.

The tile grouting surrounding the long-suffering porcelain bowl has nitrogenous waste material soaked in to the point of approaching some type of symbiotic relationship. One cannot be separated from the other.

The plastic behind the toilet seat has eroded, and God only knows what my four teenage boys could possibly have been consuming to cause such corrosion; sulphuric acid?

The entire area smells like the type of stinking urinal only found inside the seediest, most squalid establishment in downtown Kings Cross.

Don’t worry, I’ve tried to clean it up but short of a blast from a hydrochloric acid filled Gerney, nothing could remove the lingering, cloying stench of stale piddle. 

Even the toilet brush gives a tiny distressed scream of protest every time I plunged it into the sinister, festering crater of despair.

“Don’t put me in there! I’ll do anything…” squeals the toilet brush.

“Shut up!” screams a ruthless Pinky. “If you don’t want to do the job you shouldn’t have signed up. You should have gone to toothbrush school instead God dammit!”

                                         Image Credit

Therefore this morning, when I once more performed the chilling act of lifting the lid and peering in the bowl in order to determine how many bottles of Domestos I would need to improve its appearance from an appalling, despicable cesspit of filth to a barely tolerable cesspit of filth… I made a decision.

The entire toilet needed to be replaced.

Off Scotto and I trundled to Bunnings my favourite hardware store for some leisurely toilet shopping.

“I don’t get it,” said Scotto scratching his head. “I can see ‘P’ trap fittings and ‘S’ trap fittings... I know what the P and S stand for... but shouldn’t you be able to get one toilet that covers both?”

A Bunnings assistant fortuitously ambled by and explained to Scotto what the P and S really stood for and up-sold us from the cheap crapper I had my eyes on, to a hugely more expensive one.

Twenty sopping towels, a near fainting spell (Pinky), two more trips back to Bunnings by ‘Scotto the Plumber’ later... and it seems we don’t have a problem anymore Houston!
I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be this happy about a new dunny.

                                                            A work in progress

                                                         Waiting for the silicone to dry.

                         Bring out the bunting!!!

                         Telephone the Queen!!!

What Men Should and Shouldn't Wear in the Tropics

With 35+ degree heatwave temperatures across Australia over this Christmas period the only place to be is here…

Pinky, Kyles and Kaz on New Year's Day.

Pinky enjoying the icy cold waters at Crystal Creek today.

Even the dogs are getting in on the action…

                                Pablo and Scotto

Permitting the men to take over the task of cooking is paramount.

        Troy (right) had his phone on a timer to go off every 2 minutes so he would                                     remember when to turn the steaks over??? (Our boys can pull off                                           anything!) 

Much is written on the Internet about women’s fashion in the Australian summer's sizzling conditions, but I haven’t seen any of my favourite Queensland fashion/lifestyle bloggers writing about 'what' and 'what not' our men should be wearing.


So… I made a list.

1. Singlets

Unless you are under twenty-five years old (or have arms and a chest like Liam Hemsworth)… don’t do it in public.
N.B. Especially if you have grey underarm hair. 

2. Budgie Smugglers

Never acceptable unless you are a bona fide lifesaver and even then, make sure the leg elastic is secure because we don't want to 'accidentally' see any "Purple Speckled Robin's Eggs" poking out.

                                       

3. Shorty-short footy shorts.

Again... with the exception of actually being a ridgy-didge football player like Cooper Cronk, Billy Slater or Cameron Smith and are in the act of, well playing football... don't go there. Not only can the speckled eggs be unknowingly exposed but so can the Ding Dong McDork if you forget to put those jocks on.

                                                               

4. Crocs/Sandals

If you drive an unmarked van and hang around schools... fine. 

Otherwise it's best to avoid these if you want to attract the ladeeeeez...

                                       Image Credit

5. The Sombrero Hat

Not only does this reflect the representation of "I don't like any woman as much as I love my sport" it tends to make you wear green and yellow zinc cream, scream out obscenities and look like a bit of a tosser.

So there you go guys.

Anything else that makes you girls or guys turn your toes up in the sand?

P.S. I'm only joshin', our men can wear anything they like as long as they're prepared to put up with us in our tracky dacks :)

How Low Can a Hobbit Go?

                                Image Credit
One Christmas season tradition the eldest of my “hobbits” insist on enacting year after year, is the Boxing Day pilgrimage to the movies.

It began in 2001 with the release of the first “Lord of the Rings” movie. 

Thaddeus was eleven, Jonah ten, Hagar eight, Padraic six and little Lulu only five. My little hobbits sat enthralled, falling in love with Tolkein’s fantasy world (and one of us in particular, falling in love with the handsome Aragorn).

                                       Image credit

We arrived late for the screening of the second installment in 2002, which meant I sat in the very front row with the youngest two hobbits whilst Thaddeus, Jonah and Hagar sat by themselves dotted in various locations around the theatre.

I could identify their whereabouts by the odd snap and fizz of the illicit coke cans we’d secreted inside of my backpack.

By the end of the movie my neck had frozen in a painful lock and I made sure we arrived VERY early for the final part of the trilogy in 2003.

We continued to attend other Boxing Day premieres over the years but it never seemed the same until in 2013 the first chapter of Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, was released.

“Can you take us all to the movies Mum?” requested my twenty-three year old, Thaddeus (by ‘take’ he meant 'pay for' of course).

So I did, however Lulu and Hagar were too cool for school to go to the flicks with mum and siblings so it was just the four of us.

This year, Thaddeus insisted we go again to see The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, and this time only my two eldest babies attended… my shout of course.

“I’m thirsty. Do you have any water in your bag?” whispered Jonah when the lights went out.

“No, why don’t you buy yourself a drink?” I suggested to the twenty-three year old young man.

“Haven’t got any money.”

I fished around in my wallet and extricated my last three five dollar notes.

Jonah took them and in the darkness I noticed a moth flying away into the light as he stashed the money safely in his wallet.

“Well?” I hissed. “Are you going to go and buy a drink or what?”

“No. I don’t want to waste the money on soft drink,” he replied, eyes glued to the screen.

I sat for a while in the dim theatre wondering what had just happened…

Naturally, the boys solicited a Macca's meal after the movie from me... as was our customary traditional, fifteen year old treat.

“They may be twenty-three and twenty-four years old now, but they’re still my little boys and just poor Uni students,” I thought quietly.

It wasn’t until the next day I recalled Jonah, on Christmas Day, waxing lyrical about his impending holiday when he will be flying down to Melbourne with mates to see the 

Australian Open Tennis Tournament.


It’s hard living the high life on casual wages… no wonder he has to fleece his mother out of her last cent.

My Top 40 Favorite Tweets in 2013.

                                        Image Credit

Yesterday I sent out this tweet...

 ‏@pinkypoinker13h

If I see ONE MORE list of new year's resolutions or round up of the year I'm going to STRANGLE myself with the cord of my laptop re-charger.

I'm sick to the eyeballs of opening every newspaper, magazine, web page, post and seeing the same thing over and over.

Therefore, my last post for the year will not be a boring list of how I want to change myself in 2014.

I love Twitter... it's so global. I have some hilarious Tweeps and have selected my favourite funnies for 2014.

Enjoy...

Just Bill ‏@WilliamAder19 Dec

Someone is going to receive a gift from me that has scissors and a roll of Scotch tape under the wrapping. I'm gonna need those back.


clenickie ‏@clenickie26 Dec

PHEW!!! I just got a bill in the mail that said... FINAL NOTICE! What a relief.



Larry & Moon Dog ‏@DukEB5125 May

I haven't spoken to my wife in years. I didn't want to interrupt her,



Dmvm ‏@Dmvm197719 Dec

Q) What's the difference between an office Xmas party and a homicide crime scene? A) About 7 vodkas.



Ian T Hall ‏@IanTHall22 Dec

I forget, on which side of my dinner plate am I supposed to set my phone?



Grant Tanaka ‏@GrantTanaka22 Dec

"These keep me from swearing, these keep me from killing you, these help me ovulate & also keep me from killing you" -wife going thru pills



Michael Clarke ‏@Mr_Mike_Clarke22 Dec

Every time I wash a spoon...

Molly ‏@HappyHijabbi18 Dec

Ah, maybe, I don't know - first rule of might club



Crack You Whip ‏@CrackYouWhip7 Dec

1. LOL 2. Haha 3. K Translation: Stop texting me!



Lynyrd ‏@lynyrdsbackyard14 Dec

Santa struggled to explain to Mrs. Claus why his browsing history was riddled with links to Twitter pages of the girls on the naughty list.



Wellbelove ‏@wellbelove12 Dec

Think they may need a rebrand for English speaking countries 

moody monday ‏@mdob1118 Apr

I think people who use "go fly a kite" as an insult don't really understand kites or insults.



Grant Tanaka ‏@GrantTanaka1 Dec

Put up Xmas lights today & only got electrocuted, like, TW-TW-TW-twice


Will Rodgers ‏@WilliamRodgers26 Nov

A morning after pill... But for Drunk texts...



palokin ‏@palokin15 Jan

If you say "bless you" after your cat sneezes, you might just die alone.



GrossHopper ‏@AGStr8upNinja19 Nov

How old people make use of canes: 10% walking. 90% shaking & waving at whippersnappers.



Simtec ‏@splegge18 Nov

My German flat mate wants to play hide the sausage.. What's the wurst that can happen!?



Paper Wash© ‏@PaperWash21 Jul

Relationship status: ironing shirt with George Foreman grill.



Terry F ‏@daemonic315 Nov

Vegans think they will live longer than us, but they don't realize they are 100 times more likely to be murdered mid conversation.



Will Ferrell ‏@imnoWillFerrell17 Nov

Voldemort's face is flat because he ran into the wrong wall at the train station.



JJ Anderson ‏@TPJ1316 Nov

It's weird how everybody looks so skinny in their bit strips.



Michelle Weaver ‏@pinkypoinker14 Nov

I just watched my cat being carried away by a mosquito... #livinginthetropics



Accidental Chair ‏@bvb112313 Nov

Ever looked close into your cat's eyes? Beyond their usual IDGAF attitude is definitely a look that says "I will eat you if I have a chance"



Matthew Cocker ‏@BrandyTartlet4 Nov

"There was nobody in when we tried to deliver, so we left your parcels hidden under the door mat."

Not so Awesome Alex ‏@Alex_LaVallee22 Mar

A telemarketer just called my cell phone. I pretended to be a phone sex operator. HE didn't hang up. ...things got awkward.



JT ‏@JT_IV_30 May

back pain is youth leaving the body



Super Girl ‏@AphroditeAfter511 Mar

I've been on a diet for 2 weeks and all I've lost is 14 days



Sad Peruna ‏@SadPeruna19 Oct

If you see a bunch of tough looking guys walking down the street, don't run and jump into their arms. They'll almost NEVER catch you.



AmishPornStar ‏@Troman887 Sep

I hope that when the zombies finally do come, they're all dyslexic and they only go after Brians.



Tony ‏@Tmoney6811 Oct

Anything you can do, I can do bitter.



Heath ‏@DaHess14 Apr

I'm not sure where my dad learned to whisper but I'm guessing inside a helicopter surrounded by fucking chainsaws.



June ‏@junejuly1221 Sep

Since we can't seem to kill this fly, I'm turning him into a pet and calling him Jeff



Dirt McTurd ‏@DirtMcTurd15 Sep

A lot of people keep telling me my grammar stinks, what the fuck did you expect, she's 82 years old!


Accidental Chair ‏@bvb112313 Oct

My roommate said everyone on twitter was a nerd and that I was better than this. Related: I need help getting rid of a body.


Gorilla Nipples ‏@CoopSoSarc6 Feb

Daughter yells "I love bananas, the bigger the better". Wife and I laugh hysterically, Then I die a little inside.



Dan ‏@GodDammitDan9 Aug

Bank: "We're federally insured up to $250k, so anything over that wou--" Me: "That certainly won't be a problem." *deposits $10*



Britts Nasty ‏@TheNastiestB12 Oct

LIFE HACK: if you put tin foil in your microwave it will make lightning. Unrelated: my microwave is on fire



Chris Watts ‏@BrutusWatts27 Oct

The officer said, "You drinking?" I said, "You buying?" then we both laughed and laughed... And now I need bail money, again!! Little help!



Colin Smith ‏@countcol24 Oct

Annoying idea! Wear an apple t-shirt and tell everybody that you are better than them!



Steve Olivas ‏@steveolivas21 Jun

If this doughnut and chocolate milk are going to take years off my life, could I have them remove 1978-1982?



America's Henchman ‏@TheDailySchmuck16 Sep

Twitter: where people not doing stuff can talk about people doing stuff.

A Spooky Tale: Pinky Visits a Ghost Town

                                                   

                                                              Image Credit

The days between Christmas and New Year are strange. 

It’s almost like being in a kind of dead zone… accompanied by an eerie feeling of knowing we’re living the final days before the new beginnings of the next year.

“We need to do something,” declared Scotto yesterday, the sweat dripping down his forehead in the 35 degree oven we call the lounge room. “Let’s go on a day trip somewhere.”

Scotto loves to drive his new “Batmobile” on the highway, so I scanned my tiny brain for somewhere we could pay a visit to, in our parched hinterland.

“We could go to Ravenswood,” I offered. “It’s about an hour drive away.”

“What’s there?” queried Scotto, swatting away a slow, heat-stricken fly.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“Let’s go then! It might be cooler there. It might even be raining.”

Poor Melbourne-born Scotto hates the heat and lack of rain here in North Queensland.

“Ravenswood’s a ghost town,” I lectured Scotto in the car on the way. “It used to have a population of about 4500 back in the 1890s because of the gold rush but now only a couple of hundred people live there. I’ve heard there’s even a haunted pub!

Just don’t blink or you actually will miss it,” I warned as we approached the tiny hamlet.

Our first stop was the historic cemetery. 

Ravenswood Cemetery 

Our shoes crackled across the brittle, dried out grass and we pondered over the sad gravestones of little children and young women who’d probably died in childbirth back in the 1800s. 

“Why are there so many little kids’ graves?” asked Scotto.

“Diphtheria, Typhoid… they didn’t have antibiotics back then,” I answered feeling a little melancholy.

Grave at Ravenswood Cemetery

We both suddenly jumped in fright as the shutter on Scotto’s camera began automatically firing over and over.

“That’s weird…” he stared at me with a pale face. “Why’s it doing that?”

"Maybe something wants to be seen?" I answered with false bravado.

                                What the F-f-f-f-f!

The temperature when we climbed back in the car was close to 37 degrees and there was not a cloud in the sky.

We had a quick look around the museum.

“Where are you two from?” probed the elderly woman at the door when she overheard Pinky jokingly whinging about the extortionate two dollar admission fee.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” she continued with a toothless sneer. “People are shocked when I tell them that... I can think of worse places to live.”

“I can’t…” I thought, as I feigned interest in the three glass cabinets containing boring old rubbish from the nineteenth century.

“Don’t forget to have a look at the old jail out the back,” the woman called out when she noticed Scotto and Pinky attempting to slither out the door unnoticed.

Ravenswood Museum

                     I think they must have forgotten about someone...

“Time for a beer!” announced Scotto. 

Railway Hotel Ravenswood

The Railway Hotel (circa 1890 and one of only two remaining hotels) was straight across the road and as we walked in to the establishment the local bar flies stared at our city slicker attire with barely concealed derision (no they didn’t... but it would have been funny if they had).

We ordered counter lunches whilst three poodles, a couple of tiny terrier pups and a biggish mongrel had a full on barney around the bar, barking, growling and nipping each other.

The beer was great; ice cold and refreshing, the fish and chips delicious.

Pub Lunch

“We can go and have a look at the old mine after lunch,” I suggested.

Open cut mine Ravenswood

We did. There’s nothing spookier than an abandoned mine. The hike up to the lookout had a steep ascent with a 10 degree gradient, so in the searing heat our thirst had re-established itself and it was time for another beer.

“I think this is the haunted one,” I informed Scotto as we pulled up outside the Imperial Hotel.

A table of locals out the front of the pub, unashamedly gawked at the Batmobile as Scotto (showing off) did a powerslide in the gravel as we pulled up.

“They’re staring at your car!” I commented. “Probably never seen a car like this in these here parts.”

Scotto was thrilled at the attention and disembarked from the Batmobile feeling like a superstar… right up until he fell in a hole and nearly went ass up.

The entire table erupted in loud guffaws and watched us hobbling across the road in embarrassment.

“Have a nice trip?” chortled the matriarch of the group.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in the fall,” muttered a sheepish Scotto.

Bar in Ravenswood Hotel

Behind the bar stood a tiny, attractive blonde girl; she was clearly a backpacker by the sound of her Scandinavian accent. 

She stood out like a dog’s hind leg (sic) against the back drop, with her golden hair and white smile. "How the hell did a backpacker have the misfortune of winding up here?" I wondered.

We drank our beers and Scotto insisted, quite passionately, on returning the empty glasses back to the bar. 

I suspected it was more to do with the stunning blonde barmaid inside, rather than his impeccably good manners.

“Let me take them back…” I suggested.

“No. I’ll do it,” he replied (quite firmly).

“Nice car, yah!” I heard the Nordic goddess trill to my husband, who stood with an irritatingly silly grin on his face.

We left the pub and decided we’d seen enough for one day even if we hadn’t espied any ghosts as such.

“Did you have a nice day?” asked the shop keeper at the antiquated post office/store we called into to get water for the journey back.

“Yes thanks,” Pinky mused. “We saw the museum and the mine, had a lovely lunch at the Railway Hotel and a final roadie at the Imperial just before.”

The shop keeper stared at me, his pupils dilating slightly, his face blanching.

“The Imperial Hotel has been boarded up for the last thirty years,” he choked, “ever since that young, Swedish backpacker was murdered by a jealous miner’s wife.”

                                     I swear every hair on Scotto's head stood on end!

Ravenswood goat

N.B: Some of this story may have been made up… a bit.

Boxing Day with Basmati on the Side

“Come over for a feed of curry on Boxing Day!” my friend Dolly, texted me before Christmas. 

I love going to Dolly’s place with its fully air-conditioned confines, tasteful décor and guaranteed good company. Add the fact she’s an exceptional cook and it goes to say I was greatly looking forward to the outing.

Apart from Dolly gifting me with another snow globe from her recent trip to Italy, there was another surprise in store for Pinky.

This lot!

                       Michael, Madeleine, Pinky, Harriet, Ebony.

Oh, to be young, beautiful, talented and with the entire world and its opportunities spread out before you.

Madeleine and Harriet (Dolly’s daughters) were introduced in North Queensland's Got Talent.

Michael, who was one of Pinky’s favourite speech and drama students many years ago, is now a lawyer in the big smoke but still manages to perform when he has time. 

Ebony was in our theatre company’s first production and has been over in England treading the boards and wowing audiences with her exceptional singing voice.

I, Pinky, claim full credit for all of their success.

Jokes… but it was wonderful to hear how these brilliant kids have been going in their lives and rehashing fond memories with them.

Naturally, they had to pose “Eisteddfod” style for me.

A big bonus for Pinky was the fact that the girls had their hotty boyfriends with them!

EYE CANDY!!!

Madeleine and her (Actor/Writer/Director/Producer) fiancé, Dan Mulvihill (who was on Home and Away girls!!!) have created Mad Dan Productions which specialises in film, TV and web based entertainment concepts.

Here’s the Facebook Link if you want to check it out! It’s very funny, clever and innovative… just up my alley.

Now, Scotto may have had to drag me out of the gathering after I’d imbibed in one too many Chardys and kept telling Dan how spunky he was and how if I was thirty years younger Madeleine would have to watch out… I don’t quite remember.

But… it was an excellent afternoon.

               "Can you get this woman away from me Madeleine...please?"

“How did you manage to make all these fantastic curries after you did Christmas lunch yesterday?” I asked the hostess with the mostest Dolly, in awestruck admiration.



“Rajah’s Restaurant,” she whispered confidentially.

Here is a link to Madeleine's 2013 Showreel (Dan's in it too girls!)

And here is a link to information on Harriet's show premiering in 2014... here.