Friday, December 01, 2006

Mo'vember draws to a close

Well, here it is folks. The proof!

If that aint a porn-star special, I don't know what is.

The strange thing is that Mrs Gibbo & the little Gibbo's want me to keep it! Gibbo Jnr even told me it was cool. When I questioned that statement he informed that, as he is a 17 year old, he gets to decide what's cool.

Anyway folks, I've done my bit and it's time to pass the hat around.
Some of you have already chipped in and for that I am truly thankful. Some folks have said that they don't like using credit cards on the net. If that's you then just email me at gibbosblog [at] and we can work something out. The rest of you can head to, enter my Rego number which is 27905 and your credit card details. All donations of $2 and over are tax deductible.

Thanks again for all of your support and remember...
Put your hand in your wallet and the doctor may not have to put his hand in your bum!

Cheers, Gibbo.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Beware of Chooks Bums

Here is another special contribution from my old pal Stix. Enjoy...

The Christmas holidays are approaching, a time when we pause to reflect on our good fortune by shovelling as much food and grog as possible into our gullets for a period stretching pretty much from Christmas Eve all the way through to the following year. We will eat 'n' drink from sunrise until way after sunset, eventually staggering off to bed, still masticating (I said masticating, Gibbo), with dollops of gravy dripping periodically from our hair.

It's a spiritual time, yes, but it can also be a tragic time if an inadequately-cooked farmyard critter gives us salmonella poisoning, which occurs when tiny poultry-dwelling salmon get into our bloodstream, swim against the tide and spawn in our brains (this is probably what caused Dicko to leave Australian Idol and sign up with Survivor, which probably won't). That's why the Australian Society of Turkey Giblets and Chicken Innards recommends that, to ensure proper preparation, you cook your poultry in a heated oven for at least two full sessions of the first cricket Test between England and Australia, then give your dog a drumstick and watch it closely for symptoms of trouble, such as vomiting, running for the Senate, etc.

Someday, perhaps, we won't need to take such precautions, not if the government approves a radical new concept in chook safety being proposed by a member of The Greens. Before we explain the proposal in full, gory detail, we should issue a warning to wowsers, dieticians and people with relatively good taste:
Do not read on -- I repeat, DON'T (sorry to shout) read on -- if the idea of "poultry bums" is likely to upset or offend you.

This story comes from a Greens policy paper and points out that the Yanks have discovered a new - and therapeutic - use for super glue: "sealing chicken and turkey rectums".

The paper says meat contamination can be significantly reduced by "gluing shut the rectal cavities of turkeys and chicken broilers". (Now before all those animal lib folks begin to froth and foam, this gluing procedure is undertaken only after the birds have clucked their last).

"Poultry officials applaud the idea," the story asserts. Me, too. I am all for gluing chooks and turkeys shut. To be honest, I reckon they should be glued shut permanently because, as a consumer, I detest the prospect of my hands touching "sweetbreads" - those grotesque little feet, tendons, necks, glands, etc. which are usually folded up and crammed up their arses before they're shrunk-wrapped in plastic and sent off to Coles and Woolies supermarkets. There are few more terrifying experiences than having to insert your unarmed hand halfway up to the elbow inside the cold, clammy recesses of a dead turkey and pull those giblets out, never knowing when one of them will suddenly spring to life like that creature in the movie Alien, leap off your kitchen bench and scuttle around sinking its fangs into householders.

So I urge you to call your local MP immediately and let them know - clearly and forcefully - your position on this issue. Or send a fax or email saying: "I am in favour of gluing poultry rectums!" And while you have your MP in your sights, you might point out that The Walt Disney Corporation is secretly using cartoon movies to promote sex. Yes! The proof comes from an organization called the American Family Life League, in a document headed Official Document on the Disney Company's Perverted Cartoon Animation. The document claims Disney has been slipping smut into its cartoon movies, and cites the following disgraceful examples:

--In Aladdin, when Prince Ababwa calls on Princess Jasmine on her balcony, a voice whispers: "Good teenagers, take off your clothes". Can you believe it?! And in the same movie, Abu the monkey says "a rude word".

--In The Little Mermaid, the officiator in the wedding scene is "obviously sexually aroused". Yep, he had a big, fat cartoon hard-on! But that's not all. "The box cover of The Little Mermaid contains a phallic symbol in the centre of the royal castle," the document notes. (Apparently these morality guardians pay a lot of attention to detail when they watch cartoons). But there's still more.

--In The Lion King, when Simba plops down in the jungle clearing, "The cloud of dust that he stirs up, to the upper left of his head, forms the letters S-E-X". (Omigod! Any fool knows that, if you remove those hyphens, you're left with SEX).

But none of this surprises me, I've got to say. Alan Jones and Piers Ackerman have been onto the pedophiles at Disney for years, even before Alan's unfortunate London toilet misunderstanding. I've been suspicious of cartoonists ever since Piers penned a column in the Tele pointing out that Donald Duck does not wear pants. And NEITHER DOES GOOFY! There is way more of this perversion going on than we are aware of, and it is not limited to Disney. Look at the outline of Life Savers packets! Are we supposed to believe that's simple coincidence? And every piece of the popular sweets has its own bumhole in the middle! Not bloody likely.

No, this kind of thing is everywhere, and today I am calling on all of my friends and colleagues, as concerned individuals with a lot of spare time, to look for instances of hidden perversion in commercial products, then report them to me. Working together, we can get to the bottom of this.

And then we will glue it shut.

Thursday, November 02, 2006


Hi all,

During Movember (the month formerly known as November) I’ll be growin a moustache. That’s right I’m bringing the Mo back because I’m passionate about changing the state of men’s health.

Male health is a major issue, did you know:

  1. Men are far less healthy than women. The average life expectancy of males is 6 years less than females.
  2. Every year in Australia 2,700 men die of prostate cancer – more than the number of women who die from breast cancer.
  3. Depression affects 1 in 6 men…Most don’t seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide. Rates of suicide are more than double the national road toll.

Help me change the face of men’s health by sponsoring my mo.

Please go to, enter my Rego number which is 27905 and your credit card details. All donations of $2 and over are tax deductible.

Here's me "Mo Free" at the recent Octoberfest pissup festivities.

The money raised by Movember will be used to change the face of men's health by creating awareness and funding research into prostate cancer and male depression.

More info is available at

Movember is proudly grown by Motorola, Polaroid, Remington and VB.

Movember is proud partners with the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue - the national depression initiative.

Stay tuned for update photos.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Tammy's got one, Mal is one.

That used to be how the saying went when I was a lot younger & Malcolm Fraser and saint Gough were at each other. Tammy's got one and Mal is one... a big fat c*nt! Funny stuff, eh?

In light of big Margarets outburst this week I'm going to suggest we change it to:
Gough's got one and Margaret is one... a bit of a prick, that is.

For a woman whose only claim to fame is being married to Australia's worst PM, rolling her own tampons and kick starting jumbo jets, I'd say she'd be better off just shutting the fuck up.

Bitter old slapper.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

I'm gonna be a Grandpa!

Yeeha! I heard from my oldest daughter the other day that Gibbo is going to be a Grandpa.

Mrs Gibbo and I are over the moon even though we knew this was on the cards. She has been keen to fall pregnant virtually as soon as she got married in March.

I can't wait! I reckon I'll be "tops as a pops".

Friday, September 08, 2006

Not Peter Too!

I just heard a news flash that Peter Brock has been killed in a racing accident.


More details to follow.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Stick that up your freckle soccer!

I have about as much credibility as John Edward.

I know. I tipped a NSW win by 10 points and we got done. The thing that keeps me sane is that... even as a supporter of the losing team... I can still say that was better than a bloody soccer match.

Queensland were deserved winners. No complaints from me.

Go the mighty Blues!

Gibbos tip: NSW to win tonight by about 10 points.

Either way, much frivolity and amber fluid will be enjoyed at the Casa del Gibbo.

North Koreans have No Dong

Yeah I know it's corny... but I laughed.

North Korea have apparently test fired six missiles today including the short range "NoDong" and the long range "Taepodong 2". That is, if you count a 40 second flight as long range!

The Taepodong 2 is reported to be able to reach the U.S. or Australia... if we can get either of those countries within 40 seconds flying time of North Korea.

The NoDong is reported to make your willy fall off upon detonation.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Wheels fall off bandwagon!

Oh well, stiff shit!
We can all go back to being ignorant bastards regarding soccer again now that the Aussies have been beaten in the second round. I'm not a huge fan of the soccer so I didn't watch the game but I saw that penalty on the morning news and it did seem a bit soft. The "dive" is an area of soccer that really needs to be addressed. It's downright embarassing. I watched the Brisbane vs Melbourne rugby league match on the weekend. Sam Thaiday copped a full-blast forearm to the face and still got up and played the ball. Now that's a game!

It has been a genuine achievement to get as far as we did but I get the shits with all the folks who suddenly became soccer experts the minute the tournament started. It's nearly as bad as the bloody Melbourne Cup! Suddenly every bastard is a "fine judge of horseflesh" and starts speaking like Johnny Tapp.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Brian Smith Gone!

Parramatta's year of woes continues today with the resignation of coach Brian Smith. Reportedly two players turned up drunk to training this week and had to be sent home. Love him or hate him, I wouldn't be happy with the effort being shown by our players lately. This is a professional sport which demands professional behaviour and turning up to training pissed does not cut it.

My mail is that this has been happening a lot and Tim Smith's name seems to get mentioned as one of the main offenders. Apparently since he signed on for the next few years, his head has grown three sizes and he hasn't spent much time out of the pub. He is consequently playing like a busted arse!

Coach Smith's time had come but he should have been shown the courtesy of an honourable exit. The players need to take a good hard look at the absolute lack of effort that they have been putting in lately and start taking some pride in their work. It's been too easy to blame the coach. Now that the excuse has been removed, we need to see some pride and some effort.

Hopefully Jason Taylor, the interim coach, can send a rocket up a few backsides and stop the embarrassment.

Friday, May 12, 2006

How To Star In The Opera

Here is another wonderful contribution from the warped mind of occasional guest writer Stix. Some people have asked me whether Sticko's stories are fact or fiction. The answer is... both, I think!

My advice to you, if you ever win your audition to play the part of a corpse in an opera, is:

Ask questions. Here are some that I would suggest:

1. Does the plot call for the corpse to get shoved halfway off a bed head-first by people shrieking in Italian?

2. If so, will this corpse be wearing a nightgown-style garment which could easily get bunched up around the corpse's head if the corpse finds itself in an inverted ``spear-tackle'' kind of position - with its legs sticking up in the air on a brightly-lit stage in front of hundreds of strangers the corpse has never met?

3. If so, what, if any, provisions will be made to prevent a public viewing of the corpse's dangly bits? Fool that I am, I failed to ask these questions when I was offered the role of a deceased person in an opera during a break from singing for the Top Dogs.

After my audition for the Australian Opera, I received a lovely rejection call from Gibbo, the general manager, informing me that my singing was probably more suited to scaring birds away from crops in the Riverina, but nevertheless holding out an olive branch of hope for my long-held ambition to perform live at the Sydney Opera House. Gibbo said my skills may well be tailor-made to play the role of a dead politician in an upcoming production of Village of the Damned.

He sounded enthusiastic on the phone, saying my skin texture, pock marks and natural pallor were perfect for the part. Then Gibbo invited me to a full dress rehearsal. I was so excited I farted loudly, right there in the echoing hallway, desperately covering the mouthpiece in the prayer that my faux pas had not been audible through the phone.

Village of the Damned is a rarely performed piece by Giacomo del Franchi, which tells the story about a tiny township in which a shadowy demon presence is gradually taking possession of all the adults, leaving the children to run the local council and the RSL Club's chook raffles ALL ALONE. The first to be subjugated is the local Mayor who dies from the experience. For the rest of the opera he lays on a pew in the council chambers, occasionally being pushed and prodded by villagers looking for the priceless gold-and-gem-encrusted mayoral chain.

Rehearsal turned out to be very professional, featuring baritones, sopranos, bassoons, glissandos, orangutans, and much more. During the practice session, the singing members of the cast took turns in thrusting me off the pew and intoning invaluable dramatic advice about professional corpse-playing (''Keep still'' and "Don't twitch''). They also laughed just a little too loudly as I repeatedly crashed to the wooden stage floor, often coming to rest in the most undignified positions. But, as a professional performer, I stayed in character.

During del Franchi's epic piece, a mob of villagers sing very loudly in Italian for 45 minutes of opera time, which, for your average football fan, equals roughly an entire State of Origin series. I spent most of this time lying perfectly still on the bed with my mouth open. This turned out to be rather difficult. When you have to hold perfectly still in front of hundreds of people, you become a seething mass of primitive bodily needs. You develop overpowering urges to gulp, itch, scratch, burp, roll over on the other cheek and -- above all - to lick your lips. "LICK YOUR LIPS RIGHT NOW!'' is the urgent message your brain repeatedly sends to your tongue. You find yourself abandoning all concerns about personal hygiene and praying that del Franchi was thoughtful enough to include a part in Village of the Damned where the villagers decide, for whatever reason, to lick the dead mayor's lips.

But this is not what happens. What happens is that the singers, while searching for the Mayor's golden, jewel-studded chain of office, shove the corpse off the pew, the result being that I had to hold perfectly still while upside-down, with my face smushed into a low footstool and my legs in the air, through several arias, which had more verses than "American Pie''. Fortunately, under my shroud I was wearing flesh-coloured lycra bicycle pants, so the audience was never directly exposed to anything more shocking than a few wads of unsightly cellulite, which meant that a dangerous stampede for the exits was avoided.

Finally, the singers put the bruised and embarrassed "corpse'' back up on its pew, so for the rest of the show I could just lie there thinking about the footy and the Top Doggies and whether Mark Gasnier would be a turncoat and sign with the ARU. At times I also listened to the music, and I have to confess here that, although I am by no means an opera tragic, I was deeply moved by one part, when a stage roadie named Zack Flack crept up behind my pew, unseen by the enthralled audience, and whispered, ''Parramatta 21, Bulldogs 8.''

That made it all worthwhile...

Monday, May 08, 2006

Richard Carleton

I was always taught that if you couldn't say something nice about someone then say nothing.

Richard Carleton died yesterday...

Thursday, March 30, 2006

The Salary Cap

I see that the Rugby Leagues clubs are arguing with the players(again) about raising the salary cap. With all of the rorting that has occurred in the past few years I think it might be time to make some major changes to the way it works or just plain ditch it.

If it does need to stay then what I would like to see is greater discounts given to players who stay at a club for a decent length of time. One of the most heard complaints about modern League is the influence of the large amount money that is available to players and that there seems to be little loyalty to any one particular club. By offering much larger discounts against the salary cap for long term "loyal" players might ease some of this criticism and allow players to get a decent rate of pay without resorting to "the dreaded paper bag under the table".

Just as a side issue... to all those who think Rugby League was better in the old days before all that stinking cash got involved, "the old days" are still available at your local footy oval every weekend. Get your arse down to see and support your local team, you won't regret it.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Gary Glitter

Good old Gary Glitter has been in the news again lately for all the wrong reasons. It brought to mind a story my brother told me which was told to him by the one and only Peter Ward. I hope I do the story justice.

Neds Atomic Dustbin

Peter was working with Gary Glitter during one of his comeback tours. After one show about half way through the tour, Gary called a meeting of the band an crew to inform them that the rest of the tour was to be cancelled. Now, quite naturally, everyone was a bit shocked at this news and were keen to know what had happened.

Gary went on to inform them that during that nights performance he had "left his body" and had floated out amongst the crowd and had, for the first time ever, seen himself perform. What he had seen though had not made him happy. He had seen himself as a silly old bastard who was too old for cavorting about the stage singing glam music. All he could see was a bloke who was well past his prime and was being laughed at. His career was over!

You can imagine the atmosphere in that meeting. It was quite sombre and you could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was worried about getting sacked half way through the tour and Gary was worried about being an embarrasing old fool. Most of them were sitting around, heads down, contemplating this terrible news.

Just then the sax player pipes up and asks:

"You know...when you left your body and floated out amongst the audience?"
"Well... how did my sax sound? Was it alright?"

At this point the room erupted into uncontrolled laughter, including Gary, and the tour was suddenly back on.

Cross posted on Gibbo's War Stories.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Guts vs Balls

I got this via email today and got a chuckle out of it.

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
Aussie definition for each is listed below...

GUTS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are
you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the backside and saying, "You're next!"

Hope this clears up any confusion on the subject!

Monday, February 06, 2006

OPC's (Other Peoples Children)

It's a far too infrequent occurence these days but Mrs Gibbo & I ended up in a nice little cafe in Kiama for breakfast on Sunday morning. What a wonderful situation to be in eh? Great company, great surroundings, great food, great view. Then in walks a couple with two small kids who proceed to argue over the menu and start a squealing contest. Just what you need for a relaxing breakfast, two squealing kids. Then a few more kids from up the back of the cafe start a game of chasings. Meanwhile the parents just seem oblivious to it all and to the effect their mongrel kids are having on the other patrons.

I'll tell it to ya straight folks, if you can't control your kids in public then leave the bastards at home! You stuff it for everyone including yourself. There should be a law that allows you to discipline other peoples children. They are obviously not getting it at home so I should be allowed to do it. You know, you are following some lady with 3 kids pushing a trolley in Woolworths, and all you hear is "Stop that Shardayshia. Get down off that Tarquin. Put those back Sharpelle." The whole time the kids are doing whatever they please. Crazy stuff folks! If you are going to bother to yell at Tarquin to get down then hows about MAKING Tarquin get down? If you don't care if he gets down then STOP YELLING AT HIM. Either way, sort it out. I don't know Tarquin from a bar of soap but I'll bet a weeks beer vouchers that I could make him get down!

Now I can hear a few people saying "C'mon Gibbo, surely your kids have played up in public?" and the answer to that is "Sure... once!"

Be warned all you people with naughty kids. Gibbo is watching old episodes of MacGyver in an effort to improve his improvised weapon building skills. Once I've managed to convert the salt and pepper shakers into a flame thrower you are all in the shit!

Gibbo WILL have relaxing Sunday breakfasts in peace in future. You have been warned.

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Latham Watch - bizarre behaviour noted!

Spotted Sunday afternoon at a certain gym in Campbelltown(just near a certain Hungry Jacks) was the one and only Marky Mark Latham. During the whole time I was there, there were no tantrums, nobody was assaulted and not one camera was smashed.

Bizarre behaviour indeed!

The bastard is up to something for sure.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Australia Day

For the second year running we had the pleasure of spending Australia Day with a great bunch of folks over at the Patto's place. Shane & Jill put on a brilliant day, keeping us all entertained with a load of activities and sporting events as well as a great feed and a few(?) quiet ales.

Jake likes to drive the tractor.

The first activity was drinking beer, or softdrink for the kiddies, from a babies cup. Last year it was from a babies bottle but some cheating bastards bit big holes in the teats.

Jill scrutineering the skulling comp.

It's not a real Australia Day party unless it includes a bloke named Norm who drinks VB!

Australia Day isn't all sport y'know. We Aussies also like to exercise the brain sometimes too so a trivia competition was organised.

The trivia comp in full swing. Who was Australias 3rd Prime Minister anyway?

Of course it wouldn't be an authentic Aussie Day without a cricket match. Shane the curator went to a massive amount of effort in slashing preparing the pitch. Notice the nice boundary line made from the cut grass? Bloody top job.

And it wouldn't be an authentic cricket match without a streaker and a dog to interrupt play.

Jake likes to drive the tractor.

Life isn't all sport and trivia you know, sometimes you gotta take a few minutes out to shovel sausage sandwiches into your face.

Shane hard at work char grilling bits of ground up dead animal on the barbie. Just the way I like it!

After lunch it was straight back into the sporting activities. First cab off the rank was gumboot throwing. The Welsh contingent were strong all day leading to suspicions that they may have even trained on some of the events.

Clive showing the style that gave him the gumboot throwing title.

Jake likes to drive the tractor.

My favourite sporting activity was the "Aussie Race" in which you had to pull on a pair of boxer shorts & thongs then run to a tube of zinc cream, apply some to your nose, run to the next station where you had to apply tomato sauce to a pie and eat it before running to the final stop to skull some GI lime cordial. Tops!

The first heat begins.

Hows this for concentration folks? He managed to do the whole race without putting his iceblock down. An obvious star of the future here.

Kieran, the eventual winner, showing his style.

Yes Lee, you CAN look stylish with zinc all over your face!

Jake also likes to ride in the trailer.

Well, that's about it for Australia Day 2006. What a day! Thanks once again to our gracious hosts, Shane & Jill, and to all those who turned up and participated. I can't wait for next year.

Jake and Bree saying "bye-bye".

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Chinese New Year with Neds Atomic Dustbin

I saw on the tele this morning that preparations are under way for our Chinese community to celebrate their New Year. It brought to mind a tour I did around this time of year back in the early 1990's. It was a short run with a British band by the name of Neds Atomic Dustbin.
Neds Atomic DustbinNeds Atomic Dustbin

They were quite a whacky bunch of dudes who seemed to take themselves far too seriously but overall they were alright. They are probably the only band I've ever seen with two bass players. That's right folks...two!

This was what was known as a "Yo-Yo" tour. It went Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne & back to Sydney. For those outside Australia this means doing a gig, travelling North for about 1000k's then going south for about 1800k's then going back north for about 800k's. Tops! Luckily time didn't permit us to do the Brisbane gig & so they flew up we drove to Melbourne. Our lighting rigger had some stuff to take care of so he decided to fly down and meet us in Melbourne. My brother and I arrived in Melbourne at about 4am after an uneventful drive down. The plan was to arrive early, get a decent sleep, do the gig, then have another decent sleep before casually driving back to Sydney for the last gig. Sometimes things don't go to plan but eh?

Upon arrival at the hotel we found the lighting rigger asleep in the foyer with his baggage. Not a good sign. We woke him and he told us that the tour manager hadn't paid the deposits for the room and they weren't going to let us in until someone paid up. Shit! We scrounged around between us and managed to come up with just enough cash for the guy to let us in with nothing to spare but $5, literally. He then gives us a message from the tour manager that one of the band has decided to drink his own weight in alcohol and has been taken to hospital. The gig has been pushed back to the following day so we can have a day off. Great! Here we are in a strange town with absolutely no money and we have a day and a half to kill. This wasn't going well at all.

By the time we hit our room it was about 6am so we did what you always do after driving for 10 hours and getting stuffed around, we hit the mini bar. Hard! We completely cleaned the thing out. By this time it was about 9am and we decided sleep would be a good idea. Not 3 minutes after my head hit the pillow I heard this strange noise start up from the street below. It grew in intensity until becoming very loud and seemed to be getting closer. The three of us looked at each other in amazment and went to the window to find an incredible scene below. It was the start of the Chinese New Year Parade. and it was right outside our window. They had drums and gongs and cymbals and dragons and fireworks and bloody everything. All going at once. It was just bedlam. Welcome to Melbourne folks!
Chinese New Year

I reckon I was just about ready to start throwing stuff out the window at that point. Instead we just gave up and went back to bed. I think I even went back to sleep at one point. We eventually caught up with the tour manager, the inimitable Howard Freeman, later that day to get some cash off him so we could eat.

Howard Freeman
The amazing Howard Freeman or HoWEIRD as he was known. Image from CX Magazine.

The gig went off okay the next day but we now had to pack up and drive straight back to Sydney after the gig. Overnighters were the pits. You'd think not much more could go wrong on such a short run wouldn't you? Not so. About halfway into our 10 hour drive, the truck decided to overheat every time we went over about 70kph. That made for a bloody slow trip folks. We arrived late but still with enough time to set up & do the gig. Just!

Man I was glad to shut the back of the truck and wave goodbye to that tour.

Cross posted at Gibbos War Stories

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Testing Picassa

Hi folks. Just fiddling with my new camera and spotted an option in Picassa to send and image direct to my blog. So, here it is. Gibbo's youngest daughter holding one of my Christmas pressies. Meet Ellie-May the wondercat folks. Cute as a button eh? Posted by Picasa