Saturday - 2:51 p.m.

No Nudes Is Good Nudes

We say a big “what up” to our pal Ruthiebat who is currently decrying the state of inertia post-trip. The post holiday trauma can be bad. Just ask Nesbitt. He got back from a long trip of personal appearances, signings and endorsements and he’s in a funk. We don’t know what he’s complaining about, quite frankly, as he’ll soon be in NYC with DUK.

Ruthie says, “I've been working on a pair of slippers for a wearable art show I'm in next month”. We don’t know about you, but that sounds kind of fun. Teddy asks if he could get a pair of red brocade slippers, perhaps something with a crown on it?

“I'm not a big Picasso fan,” continues Ruthie, which is downright spooky as Mr. Oaf has just this minute finished a catalogue essay for Adam and the whole opening gambit is about Picasso:

“We used to have a saying in our family that went “I’m no Picasso but…” It was used when you had done something artistic - like paint a wall or take a photograph or make a picture of a cowboy in copper. You’d say, “I’m no Picasso but I think this is pretty good.” Later on, when I found who Pablo Picasso was, it struck me as ironic that someone would mention him in connection to a work of art because, even if my family had known what a Picasso looked like, they probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway.”

How odd is that?

Strap On The Mail Bag

HollyTheLiar writes “Apparently, word has it, the other day David Bonney was walking down a street in Surry Hills and who should he spy but toby creswell - something came over him and he just started screaming WHERE'S MY $2000 YOU FCKHEAD ----- it was weird. creep. do tell us the 1988 lights punching story…”

Mr. Oaf is somewhat reluctant to tell this story because it might give people the wrong impression because, although Mr. Oaf isn’t a violent person really, he sometimes loses his temper – say once every 10 years – and it can be both unpleasant and unfortunate.

The story goes like this: Mr. Oaf was going out with this girl named Miss K. The breakup of the relationship was somewhat fraught because, as Mr. Oaf discovered, Miss K had a somewhat vague understanding of what constituted “going out”.

It was a bit like Germany and Europe in the 1930s. People seemed to understand that the borders of Germany were such and such, but the Germans thought that they should be different – say – extending all the way through Poland and Czechoslovakia. Mr. Oaf thought his relationship with Miss K was one thing and she thought it was another.

Anyway, when Mr. Oaf thought that that Miss K and he were still an “item” she was, unbeknownst to the Oaf, actually already going out with Toby Creswell.

You can imagine Mr. Oaf’s surprise when, one night at a party, Miss K. should turn up with Tobes as though, la deed ah, everything was fine and dandy while all Mr. Oaf could see was tanks rolling over the border of his so-called “relationship” in a blitzkrieg of breathtaking insensitivity. Toby, bless him, was completely unaware of what was going on.

Mr. Oaf was somewhat over refreshed and, as Toby shambled about the party, was heard to remark “what the […]ing hell does that […] […]ing […]er […]er think he’s doing coming to this […]ing party?!!” When Toby wandered over and sat down next to Mr. Oaf, there was a “scene” that consisted of Mr. Oaf going slowly berko as steam vented out of his ears, threw peanuts one at a time at Toby’s head and then – in lieu of hitting him as the miasma of fettered suggestion roiled around inside his skull – he slammed a can of beer down on the table in front of him (causing a geyser of beer to shoot all over Toby) and then stumble from the party cursing both Toby and Miss K.

And that was it for the night, apart from some tears, throwing up and “woe is me” behaviour.

Except that wasn’t quite it, unfortunately. Mr. Oaf was in bad shape generally and emotionally distraught in particular. Alcohol just makes things worse but, sadly for Mr. Oaf, this was a lesson that he had yet to learn, so he drank and drank and drank and felt sorry for himself. Then one day, while listening to the chorus of Rise by Public Image Ltd (“anger is an energy”) he took John Lydon’s advice all too literally and the love he had felt for Miss K. turned into a nasty, festering hate energy. Somehow the completely clueless Toby became part of Mr. Oaf’s hate obsession and for a good two years, he was the symbol of everything that was wrong in the world. Bad magazines? Toby was to blame. Crap weather on the weekends? Creswell had something to do with it. Famine in Ethiopia – that “[…]ing […] is responsible!”

So that was a bad scene all round. Luckily, Mr. Oaf eventually got over it, but it was bad, bad time. Teddy was touring with U2 in the late 80s and was of no help. Nesbitt had yet to come on to the scene and TEZNEZCO! was yet to be listed on the ASX. Mr. Oaf was pretty much on his own. He was going out with The Evil Twin who just exacerbated the already fraught situation and even, one day while driving along Campbell Street, offered to run down Toby Creswell, who just happened to be crossing the road near the Hollywood Hotel. Mr. Oaf said “OK! Kill him!!!” and The Evil Twin swerved the car. Toby, bless him, was completely unaware as the car whizzed past him and missed him by […] that much. But that’s another story.

Who Da Hell Is Robo??

”The Kariyong HYRO'S HAVE SINCE BEEN AUTHENTICATED BOZO!The reason they look fake is because they are!Not egyption but b4 that er what was were day called STUFF IT.I think the drugs are waaaaaaring off!BUGGER”

We don’t who you are, Robo, but we like your style.

bears in history - future bears

“This diary cracked me up, completely, perhaps the oddest diary I have ever read. I'm not sure if it's a takeoff on something or someone that I have somehow missed. Regardless, TEZNEZCO! chronicles the adventures of two bears and describe them as if they are a minority of some sort. The writing is disturbingly matter-of-fact as if it is perfectly normal to be writing about these bears as people. I like it; it's pleasantly novel" - Diaryreview

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