Retirement and dogs – My first ever stand-up routine

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Now I know you’ll be shocked that I’m thinking of retiring.  No, no, no, I hear you cry. Not this ageless hipster? Not this suburban Superman?

But alas, I am Superman no more.

These days I’m slower than a startled snail. Unable to leap small frogs. Less powerful than a Labor voter.

But worst of all – I haven’t saved enough money to retire on. I’m Not-Enough-Super Man.

So I’ve been trying out some new business ideas down in the back shed.  

In one corner I’m farting about in my chemistry lab. So far I’m only Breaking Bad Wind.

In another corner I’ve set up a 3-D printer and my neighbours are lining up for Do-It-Yourself hip replacements.

But my most exciting venture is a true example of bleeding edge business thinking, that leverages Pandora out of her box, and runs her up the flagpole, to see who salutes her paradigm shift.

It’s my new line in Boutique Meats for the Barbie.

I’m not talking any old load of tripe of course. I’m talking artisanal snags. Bespoke burgers. Connoisseur skewers.

But here’s the real stroke of triple-bottom-line genius. I’m sourcing all my meat from pests and pets.

So (big drum roll). Goodbye possums and hello possages!

Goodbye stray cats! Hello Moggy burgers!

Farewell fur kids that bark all night. Hello Shoosh Kebabs!

No, I wouldn’t really do that to a dog.

In fact we were burgled the other night and I said to my wife, Sue, I said, ‘Shit, Sue, we need a dog’. 

So I got some mates together and had a GreatDane the country looking for the right dog.

o   One the way we had a flat so I said, I’ll get the spare, you get the jack, Russell.

o   It was a hot day so I said open the window so we can get some air, Dale. It’s getting a bit Staffy in here.

o   We seemed to go for miles so I said ‘we must be near the border, Collie’

o   Finally we saw a farmer with some sheep so I stopped and said ‘Ciao’. He said I don’t speak Italian, I’m a German shepherd.

o   I said ‘that dog rounding up the sheep that’s got hair like seaweed, what breed is that? And he said ‘kelpie’.

o   What about the one that’s chasing that car. ‘Oh, that’s a Holden retriever’

o   In the end we settled for one that would be good with the grandkids – a baby Setter.

My best, including the garden beds

For my wife, Sue

 

If Shakespeare had been Australian

he would have lived in a house like this,

in a Hamlet.

 

Like us,

he and Anne Hathaway would have loved As You Like It,

making Much Ado About Nothing

and laughing through Midsummer Nights, as in a Dream.

Like us,

they would have survived The Tempest

and the fury of Lear-like summer winds.

 

Despite all that, when he was gone,

he left her his second best bed.

 

I am no Shakespeare

and, when I am gone,

you will have the best of me,

including my garden beds,

as well as my Comedy of Errors.

Our Love’s Labours will not be Lost

What is ours

will always be yours.

For Sue

The woman I know

For the late Helen Kinnear

The woman I know

would hug cactus

if God told her to

(and she didn’t have to walk too far).

 The woman I know

would blame herself

if God went missing

(as She seems to some days).

 The woman I know

would marry men

on single-minded journeys

(when she believed in destinations).

 The woman I know

would only survive surgery

with Divine intervention

(and an iced coffee transfusion).

The woman I know

would believe in me

on the flimsiest of evidence

(and question my sanity when I returned the compliment).

 The woman I know

would think the world might end

if she wasn’t steering someone straight;

(and she’d be right).

 The woman I know

would think she was clapped out at 50

but then bat on

(because St. Rodney Marsh would).

 For Helen

Now that you are gone

For the late Barb Fitzgerald

 

Now that you are gone

the cruelty is ended.

You, the speaker of many truths,

are no longer taunted

by a tongue in twisted battle

with a mind no less sharp

and arms no less caring

that could not be raised in love.

 

Now that you are gone,

I’ll have you near me always;

Close to mind and heart,

a constant in my chaos.

But in my selfish grief,

I want you here, and now,

so that I can understand

the true order of things.

 

Now that you are gone,

I will cling to calls in the night

and recall your thoughts

in my struggle for the truth.

But I would rather have the magic

to conjure you at will

so that we could save our worlds together,

even worlds apart.

 

Now that you are gone,

You’ll never wipe away my tears

and laugh rudely with me again,

in this world that travels on.

I must learn to live,

With not one more single hour

when you soothe my soul

and make all things possible, again.