Word-whore. I write 'em. I talk 'em. Information, politics, media, and the cybers. I drink. I use bad words. All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris! Vive les poissons rouges sauvages!
We wrap up the Spring Series 2021 — finally — by solving most of the world’s mysteries with journalist and all-round raconteur Andrew P Street.
Continue reading “The 9pm Billionaire Gummi Worms of Spicy Freedom with Andrew P Street”Today’s guest in the End of Spring Series 2020 is the wonderful Andrew P Street — author, columnist, journalist, voice-person, and renown mink-canceller.
Continue reading “The 9pm Freedom Wine Zombie Mink War Crime with Andrew P Street”Julie… Julie Bishop, they just don’t appreciate you. I know they make fun of you on Facebook. But I think you’re a neo-con sex kitten.
And you know, when I linked to Samantha Fox singing Touch Me last week, that was just to make a joke about Andrew P Street. That was just me trying to be clever. I realise now that was so immature. Andrew means nothing to me. I’ve realised the truth — you’re as sexy as Samantha Fox ever was!
Julie… Julie Bishop, I don’t ever want anyone except you. Samantha Fox is just a cheap slut. Those lyrics… I can’t hear them now without thinking of you!
Like a tramp in the night
I was begging you
To treat my body like you wanted to
Those left-wing bastards at Crikey just make fun of you too. Unforgiveable! You have to meet George W Bush this week, you have to look your best, and they said:
New tie for Alexander Downer we expect! Julie Bishop combs her Safeway for the required 15 cans of Cedel.
Julie, they just don’t appreciate your beauty like I do. I know I write for Crikey sometimes but that doesn’t mean I share their narrow views.
Julie, will you be my neo-con sex kitten? Please?
Andrew P Street is a genius. I say that because (a) he is, (b) knowing Andrew is one of the three vital components for understanding the full subtlety of this week’s poll, and (c) I dare not upset him by failing to acknowledge his enormous throbbing brain.
Last night ’Pong and I went to the Excelsior Hotel in Glebe. Their website is slick and glossy — but the web designer has clearly never set foot in the establishment because the Excelsior is what we in the business call a “dive”. Or, as the Macquarie Dictionary puts it, “a disreputable place, as for drinking, gambling, etc.”
I wish to report that the Excelsior is well-equipped for drinking, and we made ample use of its facilities.
Andrew P Street is, I believe, also well-equipped for drinking, being in possession of hands, mouth, gullet etc. He also has a guitar, and his mouth is so arranged that red wine may flow inwards while, at other moments, song flows outwards.
