Sydney-born world traveller, bar-keep, truck driver, construction worker, writer, and occasional busker, I have been a roving reporter for most of my life. I prefers irony to sarcasm, red wine to white, Brecht to Beethoven, Burton to Olivier, Sinatra to Presley, Carthy to almost anyone, ice cream to death by chocolate, goat curry to gourmet pizza, Dylan Thomas to Robert Burns, and William Shakespeare to Geoffrey Archer I have a profound distrust of Prime Ministers, Cardinals, Chairpersons of small societies, talking heads of every sort, and republicans who can't make up their freaking minds. I have developed a world-view often described as cynical, peculiar or just plain bloody-minded. Welcome to my column.

This Is Just To Sayt

To Be Or Not

Podiums Bloody Podiums

How To Write Books?

The Writers Group From Hell 

Die Zauberfliote Dreaming