Sime says

So the crowd gave shirtless Nadal a serve. “You cannot be serious!” The guy has skin as smooth as a Plexipave court, a six-pack rack and a pair of abs that volleys of fans would queue up to squeeze. The Swiss was cheesed off, the trainer had his hands full of a near-naked bull and the crowd hissed. It was great theatre. Were the spectators blinded by the tsunami of Spanish sweat or was there just too much love for Switzerland on the back of Tony’s straight sets win in Davos? It’s game, set and match and still some are complaining about the actions of a few idiots courtside at Rod Laver Arena on Sunday night. Sections of the media have branded it as Australia’s day of shame. But isn’t that Australia Day? Sure it was a distraction, but just a murmuring. “Move on people”, just as one does when passing through a fart cloud in a supermarket. Hold your nose, voice your disgust and shop on. From booing elite athletes to calling some people monkeys, a bit of jeering, hooting a...

Leaning on the car while filling up with fuel at Bellingen, I had ants in my pants. Why was it taking so long? I felt an urge to Google ‘go-slow Bellingen bowser’, thought Wikipedia might give a fuller explanation and contemplated searching Tinder beside the tank to help pass the time. Seconds, minutes and hours ticked by quicker than the litres dribbled from the prostate-affected proboscis. From Coffs Harbour, Shlags and Steph had chosen the coast road route to Sydney, while I headed inland, via Bellingen and Armidale, in a bid to beat the traffic. The race was on. This was not the time to mollycoddle a geriatric gas dispenser. I needed to put a Tiger in my Tank, not a pussy, and was ready to send an ESSO-s to the cashier for some assistance. But then calmness came over me. A tranquil state that matched the serene scene – the beautiful Bellingen Valley. Although stationary, I was transported back to the 70s and decades before when flocks of Golden Fleece petr...