THERE is a rat’s nest on my manifold. Actually, around my manifold. On it and under it and surrounding it. A kind of multi-storeyed, well appointed rat house with built-in reverse-cycle central heating. That knocking I heard last week wasn’t a tappet – it was a rat, hanging pictures. It was my mechanic who discovered it; not that it needed much discovering. It was sitting there — an untidy tangle of grass, twigs and chewed paper that very much resembled… well, a rat’s nest, actually — exposed to the full gaze of anyone who popped the bonnet and lifted it. My mechanic told me: “Well – you only had to…

IT’S April Fools Day, but I think we should forget it. At least this year. I can’t think of any kind of April Fools Day joke you could pull off in Northern Queensland at the moment that would make anyone laugh. Especially somewhere like, say, Innisfail. Even if it was really tame, like “Kick me” stuck on the back, you could — quite rightly — expect your teeth to be smiling from your bum in fairly short order. But April Fools Day gags don’t come that simple any more. Like children’s toys, they have grown increasingly sophisticated. Slipping on a banana skin is not enough. We want to watch them…

HOW would you feel if your name were Larry? I suppose you haven’t actually killed anybody; just vandalised an area bigger than the whole of Britain and Ireland. I can’t see Larry’s mum standing up in court and telling the judge: “He’s a good boy really, your honour.” Because it’s hard to see anything good in a cyclone. They’re not actually evil either, as it happens. Just totally indifferent, which is just as bad. But who decided to call it Larry! And why? Were they beaten up at school by a Larry? And can they be sued by all the other Larrys, who probably are good boys. Really. Larrys who…

I FOUND a maggot in my apple. Everyone made the usual jokes about how lucky I was not to have found only a severed half. But I was actually quite pleased to see him. Like finding an old friend. I haven’t found a maggot in my apple for years and there was a certain nostalgic warmth in saying hello. This small pleasure in renewed acquaintance is thanks to my family. They’re green. This means they (and therefore I) don’t use plastic bags, we buy our clothes from op‑shops, and we eat organic food. The point about organic food, they tell me, is that it’s better for you. No chemicals, additives,…

I HAVE been tattooed. I am a sexagenarian (and believe me, that merely means I’m in my sixties) and I have my first utterly indelible, there-for-life tattoo. In my case, of course, being in my sixties, that might not be very long. It’s dedicated to my wife, whose name is Jenni, and that’s what it spells: J-e-n-n-i in cursive italics. It has a little flame where the dot of the I should be, to indicate she’s my guiding light etc. I’ve always thought the final I was a little pretentious but, as she said, it was her mother who first thought of it, so it’s no my wife’s fault. If…