tip off

Comparing artichokes to wet lettuces

Crikey readers have their say on soccer, Tasmania’s next governor and other issues of the day.

Strewth hits back

James Jeffrey, Strewth columnist, writes: Re. “Strewth never forgets” (Wednesday). My dear hearts, contrary to your assertion yesterday, I did not flog you with a wet lettuce (a delightfully un-hipsterish early 1990s expression, courtesy of Paul Keating). I very clearly flogged with you an artichoke. And I’m still not sure why you were scratching your heads over which vampire story of yours I was talking about, given that I provided you with the headline. I can only put your confusion down to either a) a continued state of grief about losing First Dog on the Moon, or b) the shock realisation yesterday that, in the process of writing about soccer and the World Cup, Bernard Keane had apparently morphed into Ann Coulter. No wonder you poor buggers are addled.

All sports are silly

Glenn Fergus writes: Re. “I despise the World Cup, and I’m not afraid to say it” (Wednesday). Games, Bernard Keane, are contrived and pointless by definition. In AFL you may use your hands, but not for the obvious task of throwing the ball.  In rugby you can throw it, but only backwards. You can throw it forwards in that silly American game, but only once per play (and you’ll be lucky to get a dozen of those per hour). In real football you have to, err, use your feet … except if you’re the keeper in which case hands are allowed, but not if the ball is passed to you by your defender, except if they use their head, which they can also do, or their chest, which is allowed too. Of course it makes no sense. It was never meant to.

Mark Reid writes: A recent letter to the editor in the Oz said it best: soccer is 80 minutes of players pretending they are hurt; rugby is 80 minutes of players pretending they’re not.

On Tasmania’s next governor

Byron Cross writes: Re. “Next Tasmanian governor” (yesterday). Your Ms Tips has surely made a serious error suggesting Premier Will Hodgman will be choosing Tasmania’s next governor. Tasmania’s favourite (very paternal) uncle Senator Eric Abetz will be the one telling young Willy who he is to announce as the next governor. My bet is on on recently retired former speaker of the Tasmanian lower house Michael Polley — he would be perfect in the role.

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  • 1
    klewso
    Posted Friday, 11 July 2014 at 2:23 pm | Permalink

    Come flog with me. Let’s flog, let’s flog away.
    If my prose evokes thoughts of artichokes
    It’s the price I have to pay.
    Come flog with me, let’s flog, let’s flog away”

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