Saturday, September 10, 2011

John Silvester and Martin Flanagan

These two guys are the reason I keep buying The Age on a Saturday.

Silvester is, as far as his job description goes, a 'senior writer on law and justice'. But in his 'Naked City' column each week he delivers much more. He is a throwback to an age when journalists drank with the men they chronicled, an era without mobile phones, Twitter and 24hr news stations. His writing is hard but witty, sensitive but tough, and each week his column his the first (and sometimes last) thing I read in a paper costing $2.70.

His column today on Tony Mokbel's elaborate scheme to skip town during his 2006 trial for cocaine trafficking was fantastic, as was this 2010 piece - written with his Underbelly offsider Andrew Rule - on former Victorian police chief Mick Miller.

Flanagan is a sports writer, primarily a scribe on Australian rules football, but like Silvester he writes with such feeling and passion for his subject that the terms journalist and sports writer sell him short.

He also writes a column inside the paper proper entitled Saturday Reflections, funnily enough next to the insipid Danny Katz, where he gets to sound off on pretty much anything.

His thoughts on the divide between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians are where he really shines.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Alright so thanks to my fold-out solar system poster in The Age today, I now know that there have been a couple of new planets added to our galaxy since I was a lad.

The dwarf planets Eris and Ceres seem to be new additions, while Pluto has been re-categorised as a dwarf planet.

Personally, I would have preferred the term 'little planet', but since the cats at NASA don't seem to be too bothered about political correctness, I just hope one of them is ruled by this guy.


Monday, July 5, 2010

Little Blue Tassels

Ah wadn’t scared. Do this shit enough, you don’t scare. Just bidness, s’all.

So he come in, all snarlin’ and snortin’. Ah wadn’t worried none. Took off his robe, seen his muscles. Ah aint scared.

He be pacin’ round, trying to eyeball me. Ah just smile at that nigga, coz that play with his mind, see?

Then ah see em. Two on each boot. Little. Blue. Tassels.

Shit.

That’s when ma heart start tickin’.

Coz you can forget all the muscles, all the snarlin, snortin and cussin – if a nigga’s wearin tassels? He aint playin’ wit you.

And ah knew right then.

It gonna be a long night.