Archive for category The Age

Indigestion

Metro’s Twitter feed must be one of the least digestible reads in Melbourne. I literally cannot recall a day since subscribing when there hasn’t been at least 2 or 3 tweets about delays on one or more train lines, usually due to a failure in some component of the transport network’s worn out infrastructure. Now we’ve the had the “morning from (transport) hell”, and if anyone’s surprised it won’t be the longsuffering commuters who subscribe to transport updates.

Now would be a very good time for Messrs Brumby and Pakula to come clean. Please, no more spin, fudging or blame shifting. Let’s have some straightforward transparent honesty. Something like “We admit that we and our predecessors, left and right, have failed to invest in public transport. It won’t be a quick fix, but if elected … ” Who knows, it might even win some votes on shock value.


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Strangely disposed

In all my hundred-or-so funerals, I’ve yet to see a body cremated after burial. So what did Tony Abbott really do to Work Choices?


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Honeymooning down by the mine

When is a backflip not a backflip? When it happens on your honeymoon.


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What can Johnny do now?

Appeal to the 3rd umpire.
Use a runner.
Carry the drinks.
Appeal against the light.
Retire hurt.
Bowl underarm.
Count the seagulls.
Find a beachball.
Join the Mexican wave.


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Myki money

I recognise it’s not common to confess to a criminal lifestyle through a letter to this most respectable of broadsheets. However as a regular user of Myki on a tram (an illegal activity, it seems), my fear of prosecution is minimal. For each time I brazenly offend by touching off, Myki accepts my money without question. So how about it, Myki? I’ll ‘fess up to my felonious conduct if you admit to benefitting from the proceeds of my crime.


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Pardon our regress

If Metro must rewrite their contract, I’m happy to serve as an English language consultant. Fortunately I won’t be requiring public transport during evenings next week. A Metro notice in The Age (29/4), oddly headed “progress”, informs me as follows:

“Due to track improvement works, buses will replace train services between Newport and Laverton stations after 7:30pm … [next week]. Train services will run express between Newport and Laverton, and stop all stations to Werribee.”
Shank’s pony may be a little slower, but at least you’d know what to expect.


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The iron monk

I just want to know whether Tony’s a real iron man or whether Mrs Abbott does the cuffs and collars.


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Lead lips

Well sorry, Mark Webber. You’ve lost very nearly all my respect in a single hit. Comments like yours from a home motor sport hero are simply the worst Easter gift to the loved ones of young male drivers everywhere. These irresponsible comments from someone of such influence merely epitomise the “I should be free to do what I want when and where I want” attitude that senselessly robs our community of precious lives, on an almost daily basis.

You could recover my respect, however, by an apology in similar vein to that of Lewis Hamilton, whom you presumed to defend. Failing that, the only thing that can’t go fast enough is the race itself – to your home state.


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Myki music

The Comedy Festival could hardly be more timely. With a little creativity, even the Brumby government could still get Melbourne commuters chuckling .. and maybe even voting too.

I propose “Myki – The Musical”. To save a quid state cabinet members could sing the roles themselves. They’ve been so off key lately, no one would notice the mistakes. And at least we’d be entertained. Here are some seed thoughts to get things moving:
• Opening scene: John Brumby attempting to touch on, only to find his Myki account $350m in the red.
• enter Steve Bracks (guest appearance), Octopus card in one hand, Oyster card in the other, singing “We did it our way”.
• backdrop: a series of ghostly black and white video clips of Peter Batchelor, Lynne Kosky, Jean Ker Walsh and Claus Jensen (carrying a bulging money bag) – all played in an endless loop.
• closing scene: Martin Pakula tries to touch off, tries again, gives up, and uses a Metcard.

The show could be performed live at Fed Square, and beamed to screens on station platforms. A gold coin donation from every frustrated traveller should see Myki in the black. After the show we all have a good laugh. Then the premier buys drinks and brings back the connies.


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Locked out

If Myki is my key to Melbourne, then I need a locksmith urgently.


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