The PR Blog

I was 7 years old when the war broke out.   I don't remember much of those years except they just rolled along  but I do remember when the American Soldiers arrived in Auckland and a very fancy ice cream shop was opened in New Market  and sold ice cream in a cone and  with all  sorts of fancy  toppings.   

The very first ice cream I  had ever seen or tasted.  

A giant Kangaroo has been terrorising the residents of an isolated outback Australian Community and locals fear it is the first of a new super breed of Rogue Roos infected by a mutant strain of Covid-19.

The town, situated on the edge of Sturts Stony Desert in the arid South West of Queensland, had its first night of horror in December last year.The Local Police Officer, who has requested anonymity , said that he received a phone call at the station at 2am on the morning of December 2nd.

"At first I thought it was one of the lads who'd had a few too many beers" he stated. 
"But then I realised this guy was for real - he was genuinely scared."
The officer sped the 50 kilometres from his station along the track that led to the isolated barren homestead. What he saw will stay etched in his mind forever.

When I was a kid, I used to go to the movies on a Saturday morning. Or, as my late Uncle used to call it, The Flicks. Others called it “ The Pictures “ or “ The cinema” … no matter, we went to see a movie and it cost a shilling.

We would all sit down in our seats, the lights would dim and a movie of a Lady on a horse would appear.  We would stand up for the Lady on the horse and sing about saving the Queen.

Only then could we sit down again and wait for the Lady with the Ice creams to come around. It was magical. The crowded theatre; the Lady on the horse, the lady with the ice creams and the lady with the torch that led latecomers to their seats.

The room would hush as the feature started. A sense of excitement; trepidation and awe as we  allowed our eyes to adjust to the dim within and the curtains to part.  That was a moment of magic to me: the parting of the massive drapery that shielded the screen from view until it was time to behold the wonder of the Flick that would flicker and send us to another world.

What a sorry situation we have  when   some poor chap would rather pretend he is a girl than compete against   his  fellow males.    He knows he is not good enough to win in the sports for men so he has to  take on the girls.   What kind of  situation have we got when the  Authorities who run these Sporting events  are allowing this to have even started let alone continue.  

How sad to need to cheat in order to win by being a loser.

When I was a child, a Rainbow was something that gave me pleasure. According to my Sunday School Teacher, it was the sign that God was watching over us and that we were being looked after by Him.

To me, it was a magnificent display of Nature that all was good in the world. God may or may not have been the architect; but, whoever was in charge of its creation was a very canny bloke indeed.

Now, my Rainbow has been stolen. Misappropriated.

Like so many words and so many things these days, the purity and joy of words has been manipulated and denigrated. Symbols have been distorted and twisted into things that are not as I remember them to be.

I want my Rainbow back.

When works of Fiction become works of fact we have a problem. And this is what is happening globally with the Greens, Greta, Sir David Attenborough and the United Nations pushing their barrow of bull to eager readers of Fan Fiction throughout the world. 

They are peddling pulp fiction to the masses and the masses are lapping it up. What makes it worse is that the media are their publicists and doing a damn fine job of promoting their garbage to the gullible gang of no hopers who swallow their garbage hook line and sinker.

Yes. a few mixed metaphors there, but your get my drift.