The Daily Gaggle

A Group of former British residents now living permamently in Australia as bona-fide Australian Citizens, have won an advertising ban on the use of the words Pom and Pommie. This info has come to my attention when reading my favourite newspaper(delivered to my door daily). This had been written by the hand of an unpublicized Daily Telegraph Shit stirring bigoted journalist, Headed 'Whinge persists ' it reads- A GROUP of Australian Brits who won an advertising ban on the use of the word Pom now want the United Nations to rule the use of the term as racial discrimination. A beer ad was taken off Australian radio this week for the use of the word Pom, slang for a Brit, often teamed with the adjective whingeing. Now the emboldened group-British People Against Racial Discrimination-are petitioning the UN to take action on the word. Its 26 members, who have spent four years campaigning against the word, say they don't want pom totally banned. So the writer of this info made it cl

STAN GRANT is back home and currently working for S B S. Stan and his partner Tracey Holmes lost their jobs at Channel Seven in 2000 after their affair was made public, he Say's the difficulty in commercial TV is maintaining your integrity, that the 6-30 nightly current affairs slot does not have a lot to do with news value and content, it's more contrived and manipulated. Stan is a proud Australian, and the indigenous Aussie Say's he is pleased after working for distinguished news service CNN in both Hong Kong and Beijing he is back here hosting an expanded version of SBS's World news Australia. But what is bothering Stan is what he describes as a nasty streak that has seeped into our collective Character. He noticed it while watching our Aussie cricketers beat the Poms (ENGLISH)in the recent Ashes series. (Stan you must not use that word, any more than I would demean your origins) He say's "There is an abrasive Australian-ness that wasn't there before, th

The list of excuses for losing the game goes on and on. The whingeing and whining, piss taking, uncomplimentary remarks and pseudo friendliness plus all the hate, racial taunts and unequal conditions; especially for the losers all add up to a quagmire of confusion. Soon to follow, a list of unsavoury remarks, can stirring and general complaints. I have received. However, I shall liven up the proceedings with a little tale about Billy. Billy was at school this morning and the teacher asked all of the children what there father did for a living. All the typical answers came out, Such as firemen, policemen, Salesman and carpenter etc, but Billy was being uncharacteristically quiet and so the teacher asked him about his father. Billy stated that his father was an exotic dancer in a gay club and takes off all of his clothes in front of other men. Sometimes if the offer is really good, he’ll go out with a man, rent a cheap hotel room and let them sleep with him. The teacher took Billy

A colleague of mine recently visited a primary care physician. After two visits he was told he was doing "Fairly well" for his age. A little concerned about that comment, he couldn't resist asking the doctor, "Do you think I'll live to be 80?" The Doctor asked him, "Well do you smoke tobacco or drink beer/wine?" "Oh no he replied. "I'm not doing either" The doctor then asked, "Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?" he said, "No my other doctor said red meat is very unhealthy!" "Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, sailing, hiking or bicycling? No I don't" he said. He was then asked, "Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?" "No," He said. "I don't do any of those things." The doctor looked at him and said, "Then why do you give a shit if you live to be Eighty.

It was January 5 1942, I had passed my medical exam, despite the minimum height requirement of five feet. I was four feet ten and a half inches tall, Six stone six pounds (42.3 Kilos) and fifteen years, five months and twenty days old, an under aged and under sized piece of cannon fodder. The Naval preparatory school run by Barnardo's Homes received a 25 Pounds Sterling bounty on delivering me for service in the British Royal Navy on January-7-1942. I was worth Aus$1.15 a kilo or 30 cents U/S per lb. After a gruelling train journey to Fleetwood (near Liverpool)I embarked in the early morning on the Isle Of Man Steamer, 'Rushen Castle', It took four hours to get to Douglas I O Man and I had not been to sea for over four years. Looking piteously at the first timers berleying their guts out on the boisterous Irish sea, I was reminded of my first experience of sea sickness while on a Portsmouth to Isle of Wight ferry in 1938 the 'Lorna Doone', a coal burning paddle stea