I'm...so....ronery.....

Well, not really, but a tribute to Team America seems as good a place as any to start this latest blog off.

No no, what this is about, as Australia Day, and the unparalleled delights of 1 quid snakebites at the local Aussie pubs approaches, I think of what I read in TNT magazine this morning. TNT magazine, for those of you unaware, is a free publication that comes out every Monday, aimed at Aussie, Kiwis and Saffas who are living in London. The upcoming Australia day celebrations of course, featured quite heavily.

One thing I noticed, as part of the write-up, was when they were doing interviews with various Aussies in London. A lot of these people have mates over from home, friends they knew back home who they either came over with, or who have come over in the interim. So Australia day is a good time for them to catch up, as is any weekend for that matter, and sink some piss, talk bullshit and whatnot.

I can appreciate the appeal of that too. Yeah, I've got a few mates over here at work, people I met at the badger etc, but I don't see any of these friendships lasting for years after I've left London. Couple of months maybe, a few emails etc - but a lot of these guys are planning to work over here permanently, which definitely isn't on the cards for me. And none of them are really up for a session at the Walkabout of a Sunday. Nick and Dan generally prefer a few quiet ales - not for them the boozy antics of Sunday Snakebites, and trying to pull as many equally drunk women as you can.

Which, belatedly, brings me to the point of this post. I'm aiming this squarely at the lads back home. You know who you all are. The clowns who read this blog intermittently.

If you've got that little voice in the back of your head saying travel, now is the time. In hindsight, this was by far the best time I could have gone over here. I'm young, the liver is still reasonably intact, I wasn't tied down at home by a career, or a mortgage, and I'm having a ball. And without blowing my own horn too much, I've made it easier for anyone thinking of coming over.

Getting off at Heathrow and you're lost? No worries, I'll meet you at the airport.
Nowhere to stay? You can crash at my place for a couple of weeks till you find your feet.
Need to find a job? Use my laptop and wifi internet while I'm at work to search the jobsites.
Don't know anyone over here? Well, you know me. That's one more person than I knew when I started off.

So, in the most blatant attempt at wooing people to migrate since that Irish prick Arthur Calwell uttered "Populate or Perish", I'm calling you bastards out, and over. Laurie, Gerald, Meakin...now's your chance. You'll never get an easier start than this - you've got 12 months to get over here, because after the end of 2007, I'm outta London, and anyone coming over after that starts from scratch.

Think on it.

Also, I have photos for you.

Saturday saw me take a walk on the wild side, and take a stroll of some 6 miles to Wembley Stadium. And by wild side I mean Harlesden, which is like Little India in London. Was a very cold morning, that turned to rain by the afternoon, so by the time I was ready to live Wembley the clouds were gathering, so I opted for a bus back home.


Taken from a distance of a few miles away (duh!). I was actually really happy to see this, because it meant I was going the right way. Not having a map or anything, I just had to get my bearings on the arch every so often, and try and follow roads leading towards it.


Taken with sore feet, and yet a sense of smug satisfaction, having walked almost 10 kilometres to get there. The arch is obviously the key aspect of the new stadium, and admittedly, looks fantastic.


A shot of the stadium from Wembley Park Tube station.

The stadium itself has been plagued by construction delays, characterised best by a constant slanging match between the Football Association, and Multiplex, the construction company. The stadium has cost almost a billion pounds (POUNDS!) to build, and 9 years. Most of the delays were caused by the Football Association changing the design halfway through, but at the same time, Multiplex have been dreadfully ineffecient. And yet, somehow out of this shambles they have built possibly the greatest sporting stadium in the world - and that's a big statement coming from a man who's been to Lang Park.


This is a view of inside. Obviously, it's not finished as yet, but it gives you an idea of what to expect. Pack it with 100,000 England fans, and you've got the makings of a truly phenomenal atmosphere. (Shame about the ratshit England team, but hey.)

Also, just some random stuff I saw on the way...


How not to drive your Volkswagen Golf. You can see the stadium in the background by the way - it absolutely towers over everything else around it.


Ken, this street sign had your name written ALL over it.

Also, just to complete the Australiana quota - it is almost Australia Day after all - I wandered down to some shitty biker cafe on Sunday, braving weather best described as icy to see the meeting of the HSV UK club. Saw a few genuine Aussie imports, and some nice bikes, but some of it was a bit disappointing. Most of them were just bog-standard Vauxhall Monaros with Holden badges put on the outside, and a big exhaust. Evidently car modding is much the same the world over - style over substance.

Did get some decent photos though.


The police line-up. Funny how I'd normally never bother with this sort of stuff back home, but all of a sudden when you're over here, you instantly get nostalgic, for something, ANYTHING that has a tangible connection to Oz.


Despite the flames, this Maloo Ute would probably nail most other stuff on display in this blog. Heavily modded, if you believe everything the guy who owned it was saying.


Vauxhall Monaro rebadged as a Holden. Looks alright, but the front end is a bit eww, if I'm to be honest.


This, is apparently a Chrysler Charger. Not a Monaro per se, but they're both owned by GM (I think) so we'll call it near enough.


Whoever brought this over has my undying respect. Respect. Beats me why this wasn't given pride of place in the carpark, instead of being left out on the road.


A genuine SS commodore ute. Complete with tonneau cover that you never open, ever, making it completely impractical as a ute.


A few more genuine Holden imports. And now, some bikes for young Meakin.


BMW cruiser type thing. I didn't think it was all that, but Meakin's probably spontaneously orgasming right now.


Yeah, it's a Harley. Of course, there's always one.


Spiffy looking Aprilia. Meakin reckons he'd love to ride one of these, but he's too much of a shortarse to reach the pedals properly, so it's a dicey prospect.


And finally, an uber Goldwing cruiser of doom, complete with luggae compartments and stuffed toy accessories. What every modern day biker needs.

On that note, have a good one back home, get your arse over here, where the bloody hell are you, eat lamb on Australia Day.

You know it makes sense.

I'm Fig Jamovich.