Janette is So. Mean. Like yesterday, I wanted to go to the footy grand final, but noooo, I had to go to my daughter's wedding. I mean, of course I would want to go to my daughter's wedding normally, but come on, the footy grand final only comes around once a year. Like Christmas, except instead of Santa, the fat man in a suit is Eddie MaGuire. Anyway, so I went to the wedding, but I brought my walkman, just to listen to the occasional score update, which I thought was a fair compromise. Like, those things are soooo long, and it's not like I've never been to one before, I have been married myself. And I would've watched the important bits: the rings, the kiss, the cake... and Janette wouldn't have even found out if I hadn't yelled "C'ARN WOEWODIN, LIFT YA GAME, SON!" when the couple were exchanging their wedding vows, either. So Janette confiscated my walkman and made me apologise in front of the whole Wedding Party. Though I suppose it could've been worse -- she could've gotten married during the cricket season.
So we've gotta try and flog 53,000 sheep. Apparently the people in the Middle East aren't buying them at the moment 'cause of some religious holiday, or something. Who are they to be picky? After all we've done for Iraq and Afghanistan, too. The Middle East is such a lame country. We should tell them that if they don't buy our sheep, we won't buy their... souvlaki, or whatever they sell here. Warren Truss told me that people don't wanna buy the sheep 'cause they have scabs on their mouths, or something. I told him that I had a scab on my mouth once, and it turned out just to be a coldsore, and that I'm sure that if we just sent a few crates of Zovirax onto the boat they'll clear up in 3-6 days like it says on the packet, but he reckoned that probably wouldn't work.
Whatever. Maybe we should just pluck a few asylum seekers off Nauru and put them on the boat to sew the sheep's mouths up and chuck them overboard. There is an election coming up, after all.