Today I saw a headline in the papers that appeared to say "Government Provides Free Porn" but which actually when I looked closer I saw went for two lines rather than one and so on further inspection turned out to say "Government Provides Free Porn Filters".

If ever the people in layout should have a say over the sub-editors who write the headlines, it's moments like that don't you think? I've got a headline somewhere that I cut out of The Herald Sun one time that just says "INSERT HEADLINE HERE". You just know someone got fired for that one.

So anyway I saw Polanski's Oliver Twist last night. I said yesterday that I haven't read many classics. That is sadly true. Of the classics I have read, however, most of them have been Dickens. I've read Oliver Twist at least once (meaning once - and another time when I was "studying" it), I've seen the non-musical film version and the musical film version, and let's not forget that I played the role of the Artful Dodger in the grade six play (the only interpretation of the role I'm aware of that has included a top hat combined with a ponytail). So, in terms of knowing the story of Oliver Twist inside out, I'm probably only a fraction less well informed than the probably countless thousands who are currently writing a thesis on it. HOWEVER I did enjoy this interpretation. Ben Kingsley is really quite brilliant as Fagin, who is the key to the whole thing in my opinion - and the rest of the casting was pretty spot on. Dodger, though, should really have had a ponytail.

Then I went to Readings with the intention of buying a classic Russian novel or a Thomas Hardy or even a D H Lawrence. Needless to say I did nothing of the sort. I am now the proud new owner of the new A. Manette Ansay book. Manette Ansay spoke to my writing class when I was studying at Boston College and she was such a breath of fresh air amongst some of the more conservative influences (which were probably better for me than I thought they were at the time). Her website is here. I've never forgotten the class she spoke in and I've found it really hard to find her writing anywhere in Australia. Her book of short stories, Read This and Tell Me What It Says is just so damn good. The title short story is a corker. I'm looking forward to a weekend of reading punctuated by cups of tea. My favourite.

I'm grouchy today.

Check out this review by Helen Razer in the online version of The Age, or as we here have come to call it, The Dead Horse.

The show she reviews is called I Know What You Did Last Monday. I haven't seen the show and I don't know any of the people in it, but what Helen Razer hysterically raves about here is that these are first time performers who have misjudged what comedy is and who look nervous and unsure of themselves.

So the only newspaper allowed to report on the comedy festival has kicked the teeth out of some twelve year olds in the playground. Meanwhile, if you'd like to read eight hundred boring quotes about the nature of comedy, go your hardest. Also, lots of four star reviews of a bunch of comedians from America and Australians with their own TV shows.

Where is the analysis of the pumped up misogynists I've seen at this festival doing rape jokes and poof jokes and being laughed at because they're confident and they got four stars in The Dead Horse and the audience doesn't want to feel uncool...?

At the comedy festival, they announced the nominations for a couple of awards the other night.

The two awards they announced were The Barry Award and The Golden Gibbo. The Barry is the official comedy festival award for best show.

This is the funniest thing in the festival. It's positively Kafkaesque. Check it out: the award for best show in the comedy festival is judged by a group of people who do not go to all the shows in the comedy festival.

That's how it works. Say you're doing a show in the festival, and all you want is a positive review. If you get a positive review, you get what's called "a vibe". If you've got "a vibe", then the judges for the Barry Award get along to your show and decide whether or not to nominate you for an award.

Isn't that hilarious? Imagine pretending that's a merit-based decision. "I'm the teacher who will be teaching this class, but only the popular kids will actually be graded".

So anyway, you ready for a shock? Not one woman nominated for The Barry Award. Huge surprise - you could have knocked me over with a cock joke.

The Golden Gibbo is great, recognises really different stuff.

It would be nice, though, if the mainstream award, The Barry, recognised (say) Judith Lucy, whose apparently brilliant and brave show about working in commercial radio, I Failed, is selling out every night. Popular, mainstream, funny... but not shortlisted.

If all this was a play, it would appear dreadfully over-written, really repetitive, and not very funny at all. What a shame.

The online version of The Age (yes, I know, dead horse, we've covered this) was last night running with the whacky headline, "Mother's Fury at Body Bungle" to describe one of the more repulsive stories of the week, namely that an Australian soldier died in Baghdad under mysterious circumstances and the wrong body was brought home to Australia.

Mother's Fury at Body Bungle. Really. Sounds like a story about surgery gone wrong.

Still, at least this morning they've realised it's serious. "How Could This Happen?" demands the front page of The Dead Horse this morning. And just below, there's a VOTE where you can HAVE YOUR SAY.

For real news and interesting articles, check out this.

By the way, I finished two of the essays by my bed by Alistair Cooke. Look out writers' festival, here I come...

I went back to my old work today (Tough Love on Triple M) to talk on radio about the two comedy shows I'm directing. For those of you who don't know Tough Love, click here.

It was so fun to be back there, actually. Someone should write a book about radio. It is just such a funny universe. You know how sometimes you listen to the radio and you wonder what sort of people actually take time out of their days to call a radio station?

Well, turns out, all kinds of people do exactly that. Part of my job used to be putting people on air for talkback. I used to get calls from (literally) brain surgeons (that happened twice), truck drivers (that happened more than twice) and one time I got a call from a guy who kept suddenly talking about stocks and shares so his boss wouldn't get suspicious that he was calling a national radio show. When we put him to air, he quite unashamedly put us on hold. A nation waited, listening to a couple of bars of Fur Elise, desperate to hear the end of his story.

So it was good to be back, and wasn't it quite the contrast to Radio National, where (as Mick correctly surmised) there aren't quite so many bomber jackets as one tends to find at Triple M.

Check out the show I was working on at the ABC (The Deep End) here. The eight hour day story mentioned below is available here.

It was interesting working there, although I have to admit that the ABC building at Southbank in Melbourne is very confusing for someone like myself. All the floors are identical. The studios, the bathrooms, the visitors' waiting rooms... Identical.

Which is why I accidentally walked in on a full orchestra rehearsing a quite reverent movement of something by Bach for ABC Classic FM. See? Not the sort of thing you walk in on at Triple M. More likely to walk in on a sales meeting where an executive is up on a table roleplaying his favourite animal (true story).

So, radio is unpredictable (see for example Judith Lucy's show in the Melbourne Comedy Festival) but then so is any job really. One time I worked at the Arts Faculty at Melbourne University and part of my job was processing applications for Special Consideration. One person wrote on his form that he needed an extension because he was "tired on account of being part of a medical experiment".

All in a day's work.

I went to the Commonwealth Games last night. I went with Melanie Howlett, Standing There Captain of Industry and our Production Manager on People Watching, whose initial comment when we got there was, "Wow. Imagine production managing this".

Excellent point. First of all, imagine organising the schedule for an event where there are half a dozen things going on at a time and one of them involves hurling an enormous pierced plank of wood through the air.

Production Managing Highlights included:

1. The teensy little remote control car that drove the javelin from one end of the track to the other.

2. The 10 000 metres race. If you saw any footage of this on the TV, congratulations. There were no Australians in it, so the antics of the crowd got more coverage than the astonishing performance of everyone in the race. Weren't the antics great, though? Some of them were even wearing face paint!!

3. The extremely excited Kym Howe, who managed somehow to applaud herself on the way down from the pole vault after breaking a games record. Whereas I'd be concentrating on not doing a face plant, she virtually poured herself a beer and called her mum with the good news on the way down.

The downsides would have to be:

1. The empty Sierra Leone lane. I hear we're revoking their visas now. Nice to hear Ray Martin telling us all on the telly that The Games are all about hospitality, though.

2. John Howard waddling up to present medals to the poor buggers who just won things. There's an endurance event joke somewhere here but I'm feeling nauseous so I'll move on.

3. I wonder who wrote the opening ceremony? My favourite line so far was in the thanks to the volunteers: "You are the Paris End of Collins Street". Meaning, for those of you not from Melbourne, "You are the posh bit where no one goes".

So, now Melbourne gets to refocus its attentions on the real theatre scene. Hopefully there won’t be as much shooting, although conversely there’ll be less John Howard. About the same amount of lycra, though, if we factor La Mama into the equation.

This post is for those of you who don't live in Melbourne.

Here are some of the things you didn't get to see this week:

1. Tim Stitz squeezing his enormous feet into high heels and doing kung fu. Tim was really excellent although you wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley because he is SWIFT wiv da MOVES.

I also enjoyed the fact that because I was a tad late I had to sit in a Dunce's corner. More theatres should do that.

2. You've missed the Commonwealth Games, which among other things has become a much more direct way of seeking asylum in Australia. Forget about paying a people smuggler to get you over here on a boat. Qualify for an obscure event, get flown over, tell the games officials that you're just popping off down the shops, and then disappear. So far, eleven athletes are confirmed missing, mostly from Sierra Leone (although Tanzania and Bangladesh are also represented).

See here for more details and here for a much more essential story about Jana Pittman's wedding plans.

3. You've missed the brilliant thing that happens during any sporting event, which is that you can be walking down the street and a huge group of cyclists go cruising past you, and it's only when they've gone past that you realise they're the Scottish Cycling Team and that one of them was talking about The Simpsons episode you watched on the TV last night.

Also, the weather's behaving. Gorgeous place to be.

Of course, in a few months I'll be peeling ice from my bike in the morning and complaining about public transport again. But until then, tra la! Life is good!

Hey so I've found a new hero.

Her name is Helen Thomas. She's an American journalist who sounds like an Auntie asking how you're enjoying school.

I heard this on News Radio this morning. Imagine it as a scene in a movie. A press conference in which George W actually thanks journalists for their questions... and then...

QUESTION: I'd like to ask you, Mr. President -- your decision to invade Iraq has caused the deaths of thousands of Americans and Iraqis, wounds of Americans and Iraqis for a lifetime.
Every reason given, publicly at least, has turned out not to be true. My question is: Why did you really want to go to war? From the moment you stepped into the White House, your Cabinet officers, former Cabinet officers, intelligence people and so forth -- but what's your real reason? You have said it wasn't oil, the quest for oil. It hasn't been Israel or anything else. What was it?

BUSH: I think your premise, in all due respect to your question and to you as a lifelong journalist -- that I didn't want war. To assume I wanted war is just flat wrong, Helen, in all due respect.

QUESTION: And...

BUSH: Hold on for a second, please. Excuse me. Excuse me.

No president wants war. Everything you may have heard is that, but it's just simply not true.

My attitude about the defense of this country changed on September the 11th. When we got attacked, I vowed then and there to use every asset at my disposal to protect the American people.

etc... Full transcript of him backpeddling is here.

Sometimes, scripts for future Hollywood films just write themselves.

Another great piece of politics this morning was also a little gem on News Radio. The Premier of Queensland, Peter Beattie, was talking about the hurricane in that State, when he was asked about support from the Federal Government. Now I'm paraphrasing:

"No it's been great", he said, "Everyone's been great. We've got the Prime Minister, John Howard, and the Deputy Prime Minister Kim Beazley coming up today. I look forward to meeting them both".

One of the more accurate Freudian slips.

Anyway. Carry on.

Thought I'd spice things up with some politics.