A right good Rogering

As anyone who’s ever read this blog would know, I’m an unapologetic Roger Moore fan. Roger is James Bond, in my opinion. Nobody does it better, and all that.

Recently, a friend sent me a link to the article below (from a website called Slashfood), which just made me love the man mo(o)re. Not only does he floor villains with an oh-so-casual flick of the pistol, and bewitch unsuspecting babes with a suggestively arched eyebrow and a well timed double entendre, but Sir Roger defends the rights of geese and ducks used for foie gras. Loudly and unequivocally.

Could he possibly get any cooler??

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Roger Moore Takes Aim at Foie Gras

by Sara Bonisteel (Subscribe to Sara Bonisteel's posts)
Posted Sep 22nd 2009 3:00PM

Roger Moore as James Bond. Photo: ZUMA Press.

Oh James!

It turns out one of Her Majesty's secret agents lived the high life only in the movies. The James Bond of the 1970s, Roger Moore, won't eat foie gras, and he won't speak to friends who do either.

"Before I knew how it was produced I would often pick at it at parties just because it was on offer -- though I never ate too much of it because of its huge calorific content," he writes Tuesday in an op-ed in the Daily Mail. "Since I have understood the cruelty attached to its production I have never touched it again. I now boycott restaurants where it is served."

"I refuse to speak to old friends who, even when they know how it is produced, are prepared to overlook the suffering for self-gratification," he writes. "My wife Christina feels just the same. No creature deserves to be treated as these birds are for our delectation."

Moore joined forces with People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals three years ago to narrate a video about foie gras production. Moore contends the birds are force-fed the human equivalent of 45 pounds of pasta a day to fatten their livers.

Foie gras has long raised eyebrows, with some cities going so far as to ban its sale.

But some chefs aren't swayed by the anti-foie gras campaigns. New York Chef David Chang of Momofuku continues to serve foie gras, and earlier this year he weighed in on Eater about why.

"I can't speak to what happens at all foie gras farms, and I have no doubt there are places that don't have the proper regard for the health of their birds, but me and my guys have been to Hudson Valley Foie Gras. We've seen every last step of the process – and we were humbled by it ... After visiting the farm, we knew that the ducks were being raised in a responsible, respectful manner and that we could serve foie gras in our restaurants with a clean conscience," he wrote.

The things we do to ease the pain

Nobody needs me to tell them that life can suck a big one sometimes, unleashing cruel and unusual punishment on us like some fickle, wart-nosed witch. Having been reminded of this shitful fact over the last month, I’ve had the chance to try out all sorts of pain-killing techniques.

In the unfortunate absence of super-strength pharmaceuticals (my GP is so mean), I've found myself resorting to the following wholesome pursuits in an effort to ease the angst.

- watching Scarface. Seeing Tony Montana blunder his obnoxious way to an apocalyptic, cocaine-addled end never fails to lift my spirits. If you’re gonna fuck your life up, why not do it in style?

- buying records. Nothing like vinyl to soothe the soul. I’ve managed to pick up three Easybeats LPs, plus albums by the Who, the Groop, Billy Thorpe & the Aztecs, and the Missing Links.

- drinking alcohol and eating way too much cake. That’s unanimous and universal, I think – no explanation needed.

- stroking my car’s fins and admiring its chrome. Instant mood enhancer.

- hanging out with my dearest friends. As new agey as it sounds, this totally works…I would’ve been lost without them.

But then I read about how Dannii Minogue chose to deal with a particularly traumatic phase of her life, and I thought, hmm, well, that's kinda novel…

(Yeah yeah, I confess: the whole point of this entry is that I haven't seen such an eye-popping newspaper headline for ages and just had to share. Because believe it or not, this is what The Age calls news.)
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'Botox helped me deal with Kylie's cancer', says Dannii
September 22, 2009
Photo: Getty Images

Dannii Minogue has revealed how she got hooked on anti-ageing Botox injections while her sister Kylie was battling breast cancer.

The 37-year-old singer and TV host says she fell into a depression after Kylie was diagnosed with cancer in 2005.

"My sister was sick, then my best friend died soon after - I felt I'd been hit by a wave," she told Britain's The Sun newspaper. "I couldn't deal with the stress. I couldn't deal with having to look at my face.
"It was a personal thing of having to get through a lot of sadness.
"At first, it was something fun I tried, then it became a necessity."

Dannii, who is a judge on hit British TV talent show The X Factor, recently revealed that she was turning her back on Botox so more natural expressions could return to her face.

"I don't need Botox now and don't want it. Life is just so different now," she said.

Totally hair-raising!

The things you learn on the job! As part of my working day recently, I came across the following quote from Italy's hilarious (and oh-so-un-PC) PM, Silvio Berlusconi - man of a million hilarious and oh-so-un-PC quotes.


Now this ain't a political blog by a looooong shot, and I rarely even talk about politics, but I do have a soft spot for OTT, show-pony pollies who don't give a shit about appearing 'respectable'. And I have an even softer spot for hair-related quotes, as anyone who knows me will attest.

"I have little hair because my brain is so big it pushes the hair out" - Silvio Berlusconi

He said this in 2001, mind you, before he died his hair and got hair implants a la Shane Warne.

Hate is a hire-car from hell

Until this weekend, the only time I’d experienced genuine, soul-destroying, heart-wrenching, teeth-gnashing hatred was with an ex-boyfriend (trust me, he deserved nothing less). But I’m relieved to report it’s not an emotion I’ve had to deal with much during my life.

Of course, there’s loads of things I claim to hate. U2. Kylie Minogue. That icky yellow egg liqueur (Vok, I think it’s called). Grocery shopping. Reality TV. That god-awful Titanic film with Leonardo di Caprio in it. Yada yada yada. But really, despite my ranting, none of that is hatred as such. It’s more my way of expressing my taste in no uncertain terms.

This weekend, though, I hired this piece-of-shit Corolla (circa 1986, I’d guess) to tide me over while my own lovely, loveable automobile was at the mechanics. And the reaction it provoked in me was nothing short of alarming. I HATED that vehicle the moment I sat behind its pathetic little steering wheel, clocked its skanky mismatched seat covers, and realized its radio didn’t work. It squeaked and rattled, and smelt like a mouldy op shop tracksuit. Most offensive of all, it was obviously designed without a nanosecond’s thought towards aesthetics (unfortunately, the photo doesn't do justice to its all-out hideousness).

I did wonder if my instantaneous loathing was some weird form of projection, transferring my unacknowledged emotional problems onto an inanimate object – but no, I’m convinced it was that crappy little stinkbug of a car that I hated. Every time I mentioned it to anyone, I’d get all bitter and worked up, and even now that it’s back at its Dodgy Brothers car hire company and out of my life, I can’t think about it without wanting to smash it with an icepick.

But I wasn’t the only person who took a dislike to it. On Saturday night when I was parked in Errol St, North Melbourne, some charming individual tipped a huge, heavy metal planter thingy against one of its rear panels and did some serious damage. Which I had to pay for this morning, thanks very much. I was hoping the car hire thugs wouldn’t notice (since it was already beaten up good and proper), but no such luck.

Oh - one more thing I hate - when Blogger just won't let you get your fonts right and schitzes out like it's doing right now...

Hot guitars for a cold winter's night...

The truth is, I should be practising guitar (god knows I need to) at the moment rather than slavering over photos of them online, but I've been trying to find a pic of this crazy vintage Yamaha guitar I saw recently that looks kinda like an amoeba...and I got sidetracked. I never found the Yamaha, you see (I can't remember the name of the model), but I did encounter a few other six-stringed beauties along the way...

So here's some impromptu musical eye candy to raise the temperature wherever you may be. I'm sure if I owned one of these babies, I'd practise a bit more often. Or maybe not. Perhaps I'd just sit there drooling.

Foxy Fender Jazzmaster

Saucy Supro Dual Tone

Va-va-voom Vox Phantom

Mmmm...Maton Flamingo

Frisky Fender Jagmaster

I've heard friends of mine refer to this kind of thing as 'guitar porn' but I wouldn't go that far. Perhaps if they all had a rock'n'roll honey playing them, that label would fit better...

Good guys don't always finish last

I was going to call this post ‘Boo hoo Man U and Sir Alex you old gum-munching coot’ but figured that would be unsportsmanlike in light of FC Barcelona’s magnificent, inspiring Champion’s League victory earlier today. Far more appropriate to focus on the positives that have come out of this glorious result.

Such as the fact that life is actually fair sometimes! In a world where it’s usually the bastards, the blandly good-looking and the talentless who end up ahead, it’s always refreshing when the good guys win out.

One of the coolest things about FC Barcelona is their amazing team spirit – their belief that the greater collective good is more important than individual glory. And this when their team is chockers with glorious individuals! Messi, Iniesta, Xavi, Puyol, Eto’o, Henry… it’s a dazzling roll call, and that’s before we even get to their wonderboy coach, Pep Guardiola – a man so modest, he turned down his nomination for the sporting category of Spain’s prestigious Principe de Asturias Prize this year because he didn’t think he’d done enough over a long enough timeframe to deserve it. (Personally, I think leading your team to victory in the Primera Liga, Copa del Rey and Champion’s League in one season is ample reason to accept a nomination…)



I'm far from being a football expert, and became a Barça supporter accidentally via my old crush on Gaizka Mendieta before I'd even visited the city (yeah, I know, how dorky) - but I've come to love the team for other reasons (where's Mendi now, anyway?). Their motto "More than a club" says it all. FC Barcelona is a philosophy and a passion, and an inspiration not only to Catalans but to anyone who thinks independence, soul, courage and joie de vivre are admirable traits.

But most of all, it's the way they play - to win, sure, but to win with style! The match this morning was like watching a moving, dancing work of art - beautiful to behold. Manchester United might as well have been invisible. I mentioned form over function in my last post. Well, FC Barcelona is where form and function collide, and turn into magic.

Suck on that, Manchester.

(Pics courtesy of The Guardian)

Real boss hoss

Anyone got a spare $20-25,000? Even if these were financial boom times, I wouldn't have that kind of disposable cash, unfortunately - but if I did, I'd be straight down to Shannon's winter auction on June 1st, which will be celebrating the classic cars of the 1960s (phwoar!) . Amongst an all-star cast of mind-bogglingly cool European, US and Australian autos, this little baby is going under the hammer, and is expected to fetch the aforementioned price.


Talk about a sweet slice of Aussie motoring history! This 1964 Ford Falcon XM Futura Coupe could cause traffic accidents, it's so bloody beautiful. I'd even be prepared to overlook the fact it's two-speed automatic... I've always been a sucker for form over function, after all.

Though I feel like I'm cheating on my own beloved car by looking at other four-wheeled talent, this beauty has got me lusting from afar. Why would someone spend $30,000 on a crappy, computerised, modern 'Lego' car, when they could buy a timeless classic like this? Seriously, is this not the bossest hoss you've seen in ages?!