John Martin

I think there are a couple of valid reasons I never became an Olympic swimmer. they do not actually have a dog-paddle event at the Olympics, and I was traumatised as a child, which has left me with deep psychological scars around water. This makes me a bit unAustralian. Having access to water is almost a… Continue reading God carries a big stick

I suppose it had to happen. Now they are putting advertising in men’s public toilets. And sometimes it is right in your face on the wall above the urinal. “Hmmm, I see they’re having a 50 per cent sale at the hardware shop,” you find yourself saying to the bloke next to you. “I think… Continue reading There’s gold in them thar urinals

I didn’t think this through, did I? But who knew I’d be this big in Germany! My funny mystery novel Who Knew Tasmanian Tigers Eat Apples! went permafree on Amazon a week or so ago, which propelled it to near the top of the free satire charts in the US and Australia. That came as a… Continue reading Das strategy ist kaput

NEWSPAPER editor Jack Liver came from the old school of journalism. Legend had it that he once threw a typewriter out of his window in a blind rage. He ruled with an iron fist. That was the way he was brought up in newspapers and he said it never did him any harm. He firmly… Continue reading The rise and fall of editor Jack Liver

I wonder if Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton had our kitchen refrigerator in mind when they got to thinking deeply about physics? Don’t laugh. Our fridge would be a veritable treasure trove for scientists with inquiring minds. Only the other night, when I raided the fridge for a midnight snack, I found a chicken that… Continue reading Raiding the fridge is all relative

I do not want to crow, but I’ve just had my first flu vaccine shot. My doctor jabbed me at the top of my left arm and, despite my apprehension, the needle hardly hurt. The only thing that worries me now is that before the jab I was sitting alone in the doctor’s room with… Continue reading Are you feeling clucky, punk

MICHAEL was born with a deformity which prevented him from being a proficient handyman. It was not a particularly visible deformity. In fact, the midwife who delivered him had not even noticed his deficiency. He seemed to have all the bits and pieces he would need in life — two legs, two arms, 10 fingers… Continue reading Curse of the unhandyman