Archive for Neighbours

Frain on Film – Eat Some!

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 20, 2009 by Buck Frain

OK, so I’ve been pretty absent of late and today I’m trading boundless rage for shameless self-promotion but there is a time for everything.

A most excellent Melbourne film maker, Craig Fox, has adapted my post about The Jesus Spoon into a short film starring none other than Ian Smith, best known for his role as Harold on Neighbours.

ian_smith_jesus_spoon

I’ve seen the film and it’s a fucking champion so I urge all you lovers of film, Frain, Jesus and/or dog shit to logon to the I.F. Awards and support independent film by voting for this haunting tale of youth and culinary experimentation.

Thanks for your support and I’ll write again soon…something’s bound to shit me off pretty soon!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-Living Suck – #6

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2008 by Buck Frain

#6. Burning The Midnight Toast.

 

This particular share-house phenomenon took its name from a quite inoffensive event. After a suitably boozy night when several members of the house had returned late from their respective nights out, we arose to find two ice-cold pieces of blackened toast sticking out of the top of the toaster. Beside the toaster sat the butter and there was an unused butter knife on the counter over an open cutlery drawer. The evidence all pointed to someone being so heavily shit-pantsed that they’d decided to make toast but either forgot the cause part-way through, or weren’t up to completing the task and just went off to bed. As each member of the house surfaced, they were asked: 

Hey, who was burning the midnight toast last night?

 

It was loveably roguish behaviour and burning the midnight toast made its way into the household’s vernacular as a euphemism for any strange domestic rearrangements that may have taken place overnight, possibly under the influence of intoxicants.

 

Unfortunately, the term began to lose its lustre as it became used as an excuse for all sorts of unpleasant indiscretions. The following are all 100% genuine questions we had to, and did, ask house-mates over the course of several months:

 

Excuse me, do you know who…

 

     …left an uncooked cake in the oven?

 

     …owns the dildo on the couch?

 

     …kicked over the stereo?

 

     …ordered a prostitute?

 

     …screamed abuse at the neighbours last night?

 

     …left a used condom on the kitchen floor?

 

     …tried to poke vomit down the plug-hole in the bathtub?

 

     …had a piss in the fridge?

 

It’s bad, bad, bad, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!! Everyone has their moments and most people burn the midnight toast at some point but there are limits, people, FUCKING LIMITS!!! Get help, get counselling, go to rehab, leave me the stomped-ballbag alone because I don’t want to fucking well live with you filthy fucking animals ANY-CUNTING-MORE!!!

Whose Grass Are You Really Cutting?

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 6, 2008 by Buck Frain

I worked late last night. Thankfully, I don’t work 9-5 all the time. I sometimes think the one thing that saves my sanity is that I don’t have a strict routine. Last night I finished up around midnight, got home by 1am. Of course, getting home at that time you don’t want to go to bed straight away, so I sat up and had a glass of wine and watched some TV, knowing I didn’t have to get up too early – all very civilised. 

My bedroom is being torn apart. Jesus, mother and fuck, wha…? I roll over too abrubtly and crack my eyebrow into the corner of the bedside table. ARSE!!! I’m awake. 

Still squinting one eye beneath a hot, smarting brow, I reach for my mobile to check the time. 8:30am? My middle aged neighbour is mowing his lawn, or more specifically the nature strip outside my fence AT 8:30am! BASTARD BASTARD BASTARD!!! Between him and me there’s a wooden fence and a glass sliding door – he might as well be mowing my fucking doona! What the fuck sort of person does this? Who the fuck are these people who have nothing better to do at 8:30am than mow their cunting lawn? This fucker is constantly mowing his lawn. He must have fucking mowed it twice a week every week since I moved in, it’s a miracle there’s any fucking grass left. I’m serious, the mad bastard’s out there every three or four days mowing! What the shitting pissflaps drives a person to obsess like this over a fucking shitty piece of lawn? 

It’s not a golf green. It’s a pissy triangle of lawn on a corner block and a nature strip outside his fence. With water restrictions he hasn’t been allowed to water the shit for years, but arse-rape me with a bag of carrots if the old ballbag’s not out there twice a fucking week trimming the cunting Jesus out of it. I think he must be retired, he’s always at home and only other thing he does is have screaming matches with his wife through the kitchen window. Now, that’s just fucking weird, and that always happens first thing in the morning too. It’s always the fucking same – with him in the garden and her indoors screaming at each other through the closed kitchen window – at least no-one gets hit. They’re Greek so I don’t understand a fucking word of it but I think that may be a blessing. Who the hell wants to know what two people, who’ve been married way too long, scream at each other about? But I do think about it – well, it’s not like I’ve got any choice when it wakes me up and sounds like they’re actually in my house. Part of me really wants to know what they scream about. Maybe I could help. 

Today it came to me. The lawn. It’s a metaphor. They’re an older couple and things have cooled down. She must have a big-ol’-retro-bush, she wants action, but he wants some new-school-pruned-punani. The manic mowing and the frustrated screaming – it’s all part of the same problem. What a thoroughly disgusting revelation – fuck you, brain! But, fuck, that’s what it is, I’m certain of it. The real question is whether they’re actually talking about it. Are they actually yelling at each other about it or do they shout about petty domestic trivialities unaware that the whole problem is a difference of aesthetic tastes in personal grooming and an inability to be sexually open with each other? That’d be a fucking tragedy, an ugly tragedy… but a tragedy nonetheless. If I could solve this I’d be able to get some fuckin’ sleep. But what the fuck could I realistically do? Leave subtle presents in their letter-box? Razors, wax strips, hair removal cream? That’s pretty fuckin’ scary. I’m so fucked off from sleep-deprivation I just want to run out into my yard and shriek at the top of my lungs: For fuck’s sake, SHAVE YOUR FUCKIN’ PUSSY AND LET ME GET SOME SLEEP!!!

Yeah…that could work. It could… On the other hand it could just get me murdered, there’s no explaining that shit away. BASTARD! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKIN MOW AFTER 10???

10 People I’d Love To Smash – #7

Posted in 10 People I'd Love To Smash with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 19, 2008 by Buck Frain

#7: Natalie Bassingthwaighte

If her surname alone wasn’t enough to make you want to smash her, the person herself seals the deal easily. Channel 10’s product, Bashing-twat is a portrait of bland Australian mediocrity at its most saccharine and fucked. Made a household name through her acting in the Channel 10 soap/crime-against-humanity Neighbours, she went on to pursue a singing career with The Rogue Traders, a cuntfully awful band shamelessly promoted by Channel 10 to little end. Most people still know they’re shit, despite contrived appearances to paid enthusiasm on Big Brother and anywhere else Channel 10 could squeeze them in. As a solo artist, she completely fucked her half of the duet Don’t Give Up with Channel 10’s own Shannon Noll and all the post-production in the world couldn’t hide her vocal shitness. Nowadays you can find her on Channel 10 hosting So You Think You Can Dance. I don’t care what you think of the show, Bashing-twat makes me so angry I want to smash my own house to pieces, her voice and her stupid fucking head just piss me off. I haven’t read her book, Sistahood : A Journal of Self-Discovery  that she wrote with her own sista. Get FUCKED!!!! I fucking hate the way she’s used hip-hop spelling to give herself cred with the kids. EAT MY SHIT, YOU CUNT! I won’t be reading it, even though it’s the first thing she’s done without the help of the Channel 10 puppeteers, I’m fuckin’ over it all.

Natalie Bassingthwaighte is fucking useless. Can’t act, can’t sing, can’t fucking present and with all the Botox she’s had, the poor bitch can’t even pull a face. She’s utter crap, a quasi-blonde façade, fashioned by Channel 10 executives to bore the masses into submission and make us crave a commercial break for the honest retail relief it brings. She should be taken away and quietly poisoned for the soulless, vacuous, generic mediocrity she fronts.