Author: Stuart McCullough

Travel – when done properly – is much like warfare. The element of the surprise should always be paramount. Whether you’re hooking the caravan to the back of the car and heading to Merimbula or invading France, no one should ever know you’re coming. That’s why you must always begin in the dead of night. The similarities between holidays and ground-based military incursions don’t end there. As kids, not only did holidays begin with us being ripped from our slumber in the dead of night, we were also forced to wear fatigues and camouflage paint. Little wonder people thought we were weird.
Continue reading “At the Top of My Bucket List”

I’d like to think I make an impression on people. I’ve long believed that time spent with me is not soon forgotten and that those whose lives I have entered – if even for a little while – often spend evenings sitting on a porch, reminiscing about all the wonderful things I used to do. For years I drifted along thinking that others held only warm thoughts for me. As it turns out, I was mistaken.
Continue reading “The Artist Formerly Known as ‘Erik’”

When you turn eighteen, nothing seems so important as getting your driver’s licence. The simple act of being able to reverse park is the closest thing we have to a welcome ceremony for adulthood. Not that it’s all about driving. Granted, the ability to drive a car represents a level of freedom that perfectly complements the coming of age. That’s so even when the car in question is a puke-green 1982 Daihatsu Charade. But in addition to driving there’s also the matter of being able to attend a pub. Not that everyone gets their license exactly on turning eighteen.
Continue reading “The Passport to Adventure”

Once they were everywhere. High-spirited rappers roamed free across the earth, bringing joy into the lives of others through their ability to bust a rhyme. But almost without warning they were gone. Whether they were wiped out by an asteroid or a sudden change in temperature, I couldn’t say. One day, they dominated the airwaves with pulsating beats and exhilarating lyrics. The next they were silenced by a chronic infestation of boy bands and Celine Dion. It was no longer enough for a rapper to be funny – you had to be shocking in order to drag attention away from all the pre-fabricated pop artists who rolled off the assembly line. The era of the friendly rap artist was over.
Continue reading “When Kris Kross Ruled the Earth”

Samuel Beckett wrote ‘Waiting for Godot’ and was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. In the unlikely event that I should ever write the story of ‘Waiting for the Technical Staff to Respond to My Support Request’, it’s unlikely that I’ll be asked to travel to Stockholm to pick up an award. Until now, everything had run so smoothly. I had given myself completely to the ‘Orange’ corporation and I had enjoyed the ability to download music, movies and so forth without having to leave my couch. Suddenly and for the first time, I realised the Internet might actually serve some kind of purpose. That is, of course, until it all went so horribly wrong.
Continue reading “Me Versus ‘The Man’: Part Two”

I’ve always had an uneasy relationship with technology. Having seen the film ‘Electric Dreams’ at an impressionable age, I accept that computers have a sizeable dark side and are capable of evil. Gorgio Moroder’s ubiquitous soundtrack to the film served only to reinforce the point. As we continue to outsource more and more of our everyday tasks, surely the day cannot be too far away when all the laptops and smart phones of the world rise up in a brutal takeover. Indeed, I fear that preparations are well advanced. I can only hope it’s not too late.
Continue reading “Rage Against the Machines”

Everybody loves an underdog. Trouble is, ‘underdog’ status is generally well deserved and anyone stuck with the title is more likely to suffer an absolute trouncing than they are to triumph against the odds. This is especially so when your adversary is not another person or even a team but a corporation. When doing battle against a company, you are not merely pitting yourself against a brand name and logo but the very establishment that permits big business to get away with murder of not only the blue, but red, beige and turquoise variety also. When faced with such a foe, it is very much a case of ‘the underdog’ versus ‘The Man.’
Continue reading “Me Versus ‘The Man’: Part One”

You can tell whether society is civilized by a great many things – its music, art and whether it can sustain a viable roller-derby competition. You can also glean much from the things a community builds – its temples, halls and so on. But the true character of a city is revealed not in its grand designs, its monuments or skyscrapers. You need to look closer to ground level. If you really want to understand a society, look at its toilets.
Continue reading “Great Thunderboxes of the New Millennium”

It’s here. After months of relentless, driving rain that has twice had me building my own Ark, we have finally turned the corner. The scent of fresh-cut grass fills the air. The sun lifts its sleepy head above the horizon before you’ve opened your eyes. The sound of birds fills the garden. Yes, spring has well and truly arrived. For some it’s a time for cleaning and for taking stock, but I see it differently. Spring, in my view, is the season of romance. As I break out the shorts and long socks, it’s time to indulge in a remembrance of things past and recall the great, lost love affairs of my youth.
Continue reading “Hope Springs Eternal for the Romance of the Damned”

Imagine it. There you are, minding your own business when, out of nowhere, the world’s media descends like rain, wanting to know everything about you. Not because you’ve done something spectacular or have discovered anything miraculous, but just for being yourself. It would be unnerving to say the least. But what might seem intrusive becomes downright insulting when the reason for all this unsolicited attention becomes clear – you have just been voted by a substantial margin the ‘world’s ugliest animal’. It would be difficult to know how to respond. Spare a thought, then, for Australia’s own ‘Blobfish’.
Continue reading “The Ugly Truth About Being Ugly”