I just accompanied Ms Bentendo to the doctor. Afterwards she bought me lunch at a sidewalk cafe on the southern end of Brunswick Street. It was all very nice.

Whilst we were eating, John Safran - looking extremely businesslike in a suit and those daft Morrissey glasses he's taken to wearing - came up and put some money in the parking meter outside the shop next door.

Rather rudely, Ms B and I proceeded to talk quite loudly about our relative phases of liking and not liking him (i.e. Clexa thought he was really annoying for a long time, but warmed to him after witnessing the touching man-love evident between him and Father Bob on Speaking In Tongues. I liked him on Race Around The World - indeed, I was moved to create the first ever John Safran fanpage - but then I found out he used to be a Young Liberal, became a bit suspicious, and stopped liking him. His pisstake of the Sunscreen Song didn't particularly impress at the time. When I heard about that whole Ray Martin thing, though, all was forgiven. And Music Jamboree sealed the deal.)

I'm pretty sure he overheard us. He seemed to spend much longer at the parking meter than was really necessary, and looked very stiff and awkward walking away down the street. But maybe I'm imagining it. In any case, he's probably very used to that kind of thing.

It must be weird being John Safran.

On the way home we saw this sign in a shop window, which amused me a good deal:



Now I'm going into town. Rumour has it there's a shop on Bourke Street that will sell me a shelf in handy kit form (easily transportable home on the tram) at a most reasonable price.


[POSTED BY TEIGAN]