by Ross Sharp

Seven months of frantic activity …

… leading to four weeks of twelve to fourteen hour days, seven days a week to meet an end of March deadline.

Deadline met. Bonus earnt.

That’s what I’ve been doing.

In the meantime, I understand from the headlines that have been screaming at me the last few months that our beloved country (cry) is in dire peril.


I’m trying to work up some interest in all this dysfunction, but the anti-anxiety medication I’ve been taking the last couple months is working so well, I no longer give a flying fuck about anything or anybody.

“And the difference to your normal self is what, Ross?”, you may well ask.

That I no longer give a flying fuck about not giving a flying fuck.

Normal services shall resume shortly.

In the meantime, for some fine examples of dinkum Aussie character, check out this site.

Then come back, watch this and calm down …