But first, it's all about me. And I’m getting a bit fed up with people crying about some international tourists being stuck on Christmas Island. You want to try getting stuck on my desolate dump which is one of them longitudinal parsecs the other side of Christmas Island ‑ Boxing Day Island! Now there’s misery in buckets.   You always wake up with a headache and by the time you’ve had a cup of coffee and two Winfield blues you have to drown a turd almost as big as Tony Abbott.
Then you find you’ve left the esky in the sun and the beers are warm, and the flies a have already blown the left-over prawns. The dog has got a turkey leg bone blocking its bowel and is about to explode and the neighbour is angry as a sunburned neck about all the cigarette butts and cans that have turned up on his back lawn. Then you see the old duck from over the back striding down her yard to tear strips off you for dumping a box of ripped-up wrapping paper on her compost heap… what can you do? Well, what I usually do is drop me stubbies and point Henry at the Hills Hoist; that usually sends the old bat scuttling back into the musty darkness of her dreary hovel. Then the ‘successful’ brother rings up to talk to you about the suggestions you made to his trophy-wife while he was down the 7-day getting ice… it fukken goes on and on and I can tell you, Christmas Island is paradise compared to Boxing Day Island!

Still.... you've got a bit of an entertainment paradise this week; in fact it's bloody smorgasbord.

First selection from the appetiser table is Sweet Baby James and Rob Eyers at the Gilbert Street Hotel Thursday April 15. Music kicks off around 7 pm and is accompanied by crusty bread, pats of real butter, sliced ham, picked herring, spiced beetroot and tater salad. Try our carrot and celery cocktail with King prawn mince. We've been trying to shift it since last week.

Second course - bain marie selection - is The Steve Brown Band at the Semaphore Workers Club on Friday April 16. Steve Brown will be offering a medley of hot white meats (fish and fowl) along with smoked salmon, sauces and dips. Accompany your choice with cold and crisp salads that are all organically grown, picked by virgins and  and washed in mountain spring water specially trucked in all the way from Mount Thebarton. The Steve Brown band starts cooking around 9 pm. That's Brownie over there on the left, wondering if he just saw something wriggling in the  sauce tartare.

 He did! Our traditional-style sauce Tartare is famous for its inclusion of the Maltese caper worm and it's supposed to be good luck to get one in your serving. It's also supposed to be better luck to not get one.

 Saturday Warp Factor 4 goes all privatey again with a private do at a private location the address of which is private. However that should not stop you from enjoying a main course - another bain marie selection - of hotmeats (Beef, lamb, pork and turkey) with a tantalising slection of steamed and baked vegetables. Try some of our delicious sauces especially created to accompany the hot meats on offer - our sous chef is an internationally recognised cnut who thinks he makes the best sauces in the fukken world. Just ask him - he'll tell you.

Sunday, April 17 offers more desserts and sweets to choke a Biggest Loser walk-up. The Wine Underground (Pirie Street the City) serves up generous portions of The Blues Avenue Trio and - see that word "and" ... and Acoustic Scandal. You can sing and dance and wet your pants but don't spill the banana caramel torte with chocolate sauce. Don't overlook the tropical pavlova and vanilla cream, the individual chocolate souffles or cake slices. And we also have an extensive fruit and cheese board. No meal is complete without the sublime taste of our Arriba coffee blends the beans of which are dry-roasted in a mother-in-law's glare and stewed till numb, just like her poor husband always is.

 Try a palate-cleansing sorbet between courses or use one of our hand-plucked Bird of Paradise feathers to tickle the back of your throat to lustily empty your guts in order to continue gorging on this orgy of ...of.... of... starts with 'g'.... gastro ...enterit...no. Gluteus..No... gynea...nope, that's not it AH, fuk it - groceries.   Anyway, the bastards making the annoying noise in the background start fukking around at 5 pm or so. Believe it or not  Brownie will be there as well as Rhodesey, Gini, Jamesey, Robertey and Denisey.

And if you're not stuffed to the gills after that feast I can only assume you have two arseholes to get rid of the shit.  And yes, I did use a rude word up near the sauces but it's permissable when talking about the impossible creature called a sous chef.