LOOK, I know the world population is growing like fungi on fridge leftovers, and I know houses are popping up all over the developed world like mushrooms in a pile of horse poo, and I know that means we need more streets. But do we have to name them all after people? I mean, there has to be a limit. We have to put up with Victoria streets all over the country. I can even handle Queen Victoria Street, even though I’m not a royalist. Townsville also has Flinders, Palmer and Walker streets. Not exactly royalty, but named for people who played a part in history. But J. Bledsopp Boulevard?…

I THOUGHT I’d start a new party. Political, that is. The rules would be simple. First, no politics. And candidates would have to swear a couple of simple oaths: never to hide anything and always to ignore the fact they belonged to the party. At first I thought the most important oath should be honesty, but cheats can swear honesty. They do it all the time. The thing about never hiding anything is that it becomes obvious very quickly when you do. And if you ignore the fact that you belong to the party, you don’t have to vote on party lines. Don’t get me wrong… I can see that…

I WISH I’d never left the toolbox in the rain. It was a gift. From my wife. If I give her an iron for her birthday it’s insensitive; if she buys me a toolbox it’s thoughtful. There was a sudden storm while I was tinkering with the lawn mower and I dashed for cover, leaving the toolbox open and the tools exposed. It was a metal toolbox. I meant to go back for it but evening came on and the next day was a work day and I forgot it. It rained for a week and by the next weekend the toolbox was transformed to a rusting, hinge-stiffened cesspit of…

I THINK Coco the Clown started life as Attila the Hun. You think not? You don’t see the connection between a bloke with a red nose and a permanent smile painted on his face and a man who destroyed most of Europe 1500 years ago? Follow me through on this… How do you deal with someone who seeks to strike terror in your heart? You laugh at him, that’s how. Mark my words, in a few years Osama bin Laden will be the darling of circus tents the world over, doing funny walks and pratt falls and having goldfish poured in his baggy trousers. Possibly sooner, at the rate he’s…

MY wife has dreams. This is not unusual. We all have dreams. I have dreams. On a bleary Sunday morning when my dream is still a froth of bubbles floating on the surface of my thoughts I might remember it was about Russia, or that it involved bricks. This is not how my wife dreams. She takes minutes as detailed as those of a parliamentary cabinet meeting. For instance, last night she was talking to Nicole Kidman. Nicole had a bag of marijuana and a cricket bat. They discussed, for a while, the fact that, having flushed the guinea pig down the lavatory, its chances of survival were slim. This…