ING off!

By way of update on the uninspiring, yet adequate, ING building proposed for the port, some chump running for council at the upcoming elections letter-dropped me over the weekend to say he didn't like it.

Three words to you, lifted from the front of my letter box, Beret Boy.

NO JUNK MAIL.

Freo Star shoots through

Yesterday I wandered into ol' Freo town, as I do on a reasonably regular basis to source blog fodder.

Anything's fair game, and it was a lovely walk in, interrupted but once by a short-lived thunder storm.

On arrival about 2.30pm, I noticed the South Terrace cappuccino strip, as usual on a Sunday, was jam-packed with the kinda people I prefer not to asssociate with.

You know, those peopley-type people.

Hence, I disappeared into Myer to procure two pairs of Y-fronts, and zipped back across the Terrace to High Street for a coffee. There I whiled the afternoon away in my own pleasant company, breaking only for a stroll down and back to Esplanade Reserve – where the corellas were in full voice.

Later, as the shops were closing, and V8-driving Bevans and Charmaines supercharged their ways home along the Terrace to their Coogee McMansions, the thunder (ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!) of a more ominous-looking storm threatened to delay my egress from the now-forlorn port city.

"Quick!" I thought. "To the trusty Freo Star!"

The trusty Freo Star is a free mini-bus service the council is trialling to link Freo's suburbs to its historic heart. However, when I reached the Star's terminus, behind the synagogue near South Fremantle Oval, I found the Star strangely stagnant, locked behind foreboding wire gates.

The Star was not rolling anywhere, not yesterday at any rate. Perhaps never again.

"What ever happened to the trusty Star?" I pondered as the dark clouds began to urinate on my long parade home. "I was only on it a fortnight ago. Is its six-month trial up? At any rate, I was never told of such."

My vote in October's local government elections to the councillor or mayor (c'mon Taggers!) who can bring poor, forgotten, Starry-boy back.

Silent September

Dockers are dead for another season, following their Woewodinful loss against St Kilda this arvo.

The poor portsiders never did seem to get off the ground this year. Whether it was too many beers down at Pav's pub, too many cappuccinos on the strip, or too much fishing down the wharf I dunno.

All I know is they're not much of a footy side at present, and they should axe Chris Tarrant.

ING, ING a song

The beret-wearers down in old Freo town have their knickers in a twist about the proposed ING development at the port.

To all these baby-booming nairsaywellers who used their redundancy packages to buy up big in the port city when real estate was cheap, and have utterly sterilised it with their calls for zero change, I say chill out a bit and recognise the port is an industrial place.

A bit more industrial-looking architecture down there won't kill ya.

And a few decent shops may actually generate a bitta life down there to help kick along such much-needed infrastructure as a commuter ferry service to Perth.

Moreover, beret-wearers, I join ING's patron saint Billy Connolly in saying: "Why don't you go take a f@!% to yourselves?"