THIS WEEK IN REVIEW: 1st March – 7th March

Brought to you by Sian Campbell, Madeleine Laing and Jack Vening.

A Review of A Certain Ex-Boyfriend’s Tumblr
— Sian Campbell

“Like, look, girl: I think you should date me, because I am a good guy, and I’m an alternative bookworm (it’s kind of my “thing!”) – like, I just am not like other guys! I don’t know even know who those other guys are! Haha! So, no big deal but also I post a lot about how Chris Brown shouldn’t just be beating on Rhianna and inspirational things Tina Fey has said. My favourite How I Met Your Mother character is totally Barney – I want to be just like him! Hey, why don’t I reblog five thousand vintage pix of pinup girls? Aren’t they so hot ya wanna get them tattooed on your dick? No, I mean, like, in an alternative, I’m-totally-against-sexualising-women-but-seriously-I’ve-had-sex-with-20-girls-even-though-I-told-you-it-was-only-4 way!
Hey so I know I just cheated on my ex a couple of months ago, but my heart has healed and anyway I’m never going to tell you about that so don’t worry gurl. I don’t want to worry you, you know? You’re just so precious that I want to protect you, like kill a lion in your honour because I can do that because I totally lift. I mean, hey, I know you can protect yourself babe. I love strong gals, in a strong-women-are-so-fucking-sexy-when-they’re-wearing-low-cut-uniforms-and-featuring-in-sci-fi-shows-and-video-games way. Hey if you have some free time, you should text me some nudes. I know that sounds like a douchey thing to ask but it’s okay because I’m your favourite feminist ally! Okay, maybe I laugh when my buddies objectify you but more than that, I believe you should own property also I think gay people should get married and I reblogged that important feminist article that I saw all the tens of thousands of girls I don’t know that I follow on tumblr post. I have a soul, you know? If you need any references, I’ve got you covered cos I’m totes a serial monogamist! I’ve been in SO MANY RELATIONSHIPS! I CAN’T HELP MYSELF! THEY CAN’T HELP THEMSELVES! I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW IT HAPPENS I’M JUST LOOKING FOR LOVE? Look through my archives and suss all my past loves out for yourself if you’re insecure. Don’t pay any attention to all those “Can’t wait to spend time with my boo!” posts, really. I can’t wait to spend time with YOU! Hey did I mention you are a beautiful vision? :)”

No stars or any form of kudos for you glen coco I think you’ve given yourself enough hey.


Friends Going Away
— Madeleine Laing

Michael and Nina, close friends of mine and a lot of other people, are moving to Berlin. To wear fashionable mittens and live in fashionable poverty and generally be cooler than the rest of us back here in Shittown, AUS. So we gather, on one of those grateful days between the paralyzing heat and unending rain that have bookended this summer, to drink beers in a park like it’s someone’s birthday, though it’s not, and say goodbye, except we don’t. Not yet. That takes place several nights later, on Michael and Nina’s last night in Brisbane, where I find myself at Ric’s, crying, mute and embarrassed, trying to tell these people how much they’ve meant to me without being weird, while drunker people have obnoxiously loud fun unfettered by goodbyes. But now we’re just drinking beers in the park and hiding cigarette butts in the long green grass, moving inch by inch as we follow the shade of a tree I don’t know the name of. Josh takes pictures with a Polaroid and we take pictures of those pictures with our phones to put on Instagram. Dan takes a piss in the bushes and comments on how weird it is pissing in a bush while you can hear an ice-cream van. We agree that yes, this would be odd. I see a boy with a mohawk doing heroin up against a tree.

As the sun saunters off, we head to the nearby Merthyr Bowls Club where an old guy, whose belly is more pint than pot, tells us how to play bowls. Even though most of us have done it before on work trips. James makes a bowls in-joke and Dan says that he has never wanted to hit James more than in this moment and we agree that yes, this would be justified.  We play bowls and it’s fun and James and Dan and Alex are alright and the rest of us are various levels of terrible. My team wins but no one buys us any drinks. Then Michael’s older brother, who happens to be my high school head of house and English teacher (because that kind of small-world shit is constant in this town), decides that he wants to play and, out of some kind of misplaced camaraderie, wants me to be on his team. What follows is twenty minutes of what I’m sure is meant to be encouraging support, as he eggs me on in a voice that is far too loud for someone never more than a metre away, but it gives me so many school Sports Day flashbacks that have to repeat “I’manadult I’manadult I’manadult I’manadult” over and over in my head to stop from going fetal in the middle of the lawn. I escape before my nerves give way completely and retire to the metal bench and bucket that serves as a smoking area and posit that maybe we should get out of here. After an hour of what is more like herding cockroaches than cats, we all make it outside and to Jess and Chester’s house, where I drink a champagne cocktail that is big enough to make me forget I hate champagne and play Just Dance and lose at that as well. I leave early to get the train because I spent all my cab money on beer.


BOWLS: ★★★ wish I was drunker.

 The Drunk Middle-Aged Lady who Kept Trying to Get Me to Sing at the Tallest Man on Earth Concert at the Hi Fi on Sunday Night

— Jack Vening

Listen, lady, I know it looks like I’m being conservative and reactionary to what I understand is pretty standard concert-person behaviour. I don’t get to a lot of shows. I’m sorry—I probably seem like a kid who goes to the beach and loses his shit over seaweed while everyone is like “Calm down kid it is basically like lettuce or basic leaves”. But The Tallest Man on Earth is the goddamned beans so I never would have expected the people next to me to be the equivalent of, say, the cast of the pilot episode of the worst sitcom you’ve ever seen. But Jeez Louise and Jesus Christ, they fucking were! And you were their Phoebe! Who were you, drunk middle-aged lady? Why did you want so wholly for me to sing along to that real-nice cover of ‘Graceland’ with you, even though you didn’t know the words? Why did you keep elbowing me, and then apologising to the people behind you for being loud, and then doing it again? Did you know the guy next to us, who wouldn’t stop telling the girl he was with that it was so great that two adults could just go to a CONCERT together and not have any EXPECTATIONS and not be PRESSURED to go STEADY and that their relationship would BE WHAT IT IS while she just NODDED and stared at the back of the tall guy in FRONT of her? Did you know the kid with sideburns who took no fewer than five drink-breaks throughout the show, which only went for sixty beloved minutes? We stood together, but when one guy with glasses asked you to be quiet, and some other guy with glasses told him to shut up, I felt so sweaty and alone. Who was I meant to listen to? Who was I to believe? You grabbed my arm and yelled in my ear and in doing so I think you made me an adult, like when a polar bear eats an Inuit’s family and then the Inuit has to survive on his own. But I only mean that in that I really really wish it had never happened.

Do you have something you’d like to tell us about/give a star rating?  ~Typical~ band, restaurant and book reviews need not apply here, but if you want to review the time you went to see Joan Jett and ended up in a fight, or Norwegian Wood because reading it on that train changed your life, or you really want to review the last time you had McDonalds for breakfast, oh you go. Send it to


  • Tallest Man on Earth IS the beans. Consequently I have a similar story where a bunch of Phoebes kept wandering into a concert of his, standing next to my chair and loudly talking about how they didn’t know who he was. For the first time in my life I felt the need to turn around and tell them to shut the fuck up, and since then I’ve never gone back. Now I yell at babies in the street, at trucks when they use those air brakes, at low-flying aeroplanes. People can’t even finish a conversation without me blowing the shit up. Thanks, Tallest Man on Earth.

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