John Martin

I am pretty sure they had music in the 1950s. At least, that is what I told a young woman I met at the CD stand in a budget store the other day. “Excuse me (middleaged gentleman),” asked the woman, who was just 17 or 18, as we browsed side-by-side. “Do you know when the… Continue reading Turn that funky music down, boy

Dear coach, Please forgive me for doing this a few days before the grand final, but I quit. I was going to tell you at halftime of the preliminary final but, seeing as your face was so red and your blood pressure was obviously soooooooooooooo high, it did not seem like the right time. (Um,… Continue reading A dear John letter to the coach

‘NOW TELL me,’ said the psychiatrist after settling his patient down on the couch, ‘How long have you thought you were really Santa Claus?’ ‘Santa Claus? My name is George!’ The man lifted his head and scowled. ‘What makes you think I think I am Santa Claus?’ ‘Er, w-w-well. I don’t get a lot of… Continue reading Santa Claus contemplates his navel

This piece of funny flash fiction was inspired by an online spat I had with an American who insisted I was wrong when I said the moon landing happened for me on July 21, 1969. I fully accept the date for him was July 20 but I’m not sure he understood how time zones work.… Continue reading One small step for man, one giant leap backwards for photo processing

When I telephoned a local electrician’s home yesterday, a small child answered. I was taken aback. I needed an electrician to check out the wiring on some light fittings, and I had got that number from the telephone directory — E for Electricians. I was not expecting someone so young to answer. “Um … hello… Continue reading Strife of the sparkie

From July 1, Australian shoppers will be forced to buy from amazon.com.au rather than from Amazon stores overseas. I’ve seen some misery guts decrying this online but as an Australian author, I just see opportunity in that digital publishing space. Statistics tell us digital publishing is very immature in Australia compared with the United States… Continue reading Going up … advice for misery guts

I can thank Bert Connell for teaching me to play lawn bowls in 1979. I am not sure if this was before or after the time he sent me on a botched mission to fetch his pipe from home. The reason I can’t remember this is I’ve killed a lot a brain cells with alcohol… Continue reading It’s a long way to the hops, Mr Connell