Mark Latham Loves 21 Jump St, 98%

On Monday I was charmed to read Mark Latham's little self-promoting piece in The Age about his conga line of suckholes (how great is "suckholes" by the way? I have already started to annexe it as a high rotation word in my vocabulary) and the demise of The Larrikin and blah blah blah. Mark and I were getting along ok until he threw in a sideways whinge about 1970's feminism and its emasculating effect on Australian culture, vernacular, and just generally men in general. To be fair he finished on a huge, bellowing complaint about the evil of mealy mouthed Liberals and stultifying PC language which.... let's just go with 'fine' for now.

Because last night, after fleeing the short weird, non-drinker who seemed to be tracking my every movement like a sober, short, slightly balding EVIL ROBOT OF HORROR AND DOOM while at my friend's very excellent and accomplished art opening at bus , I indulged in one of my current favourite guilty pleasures. Ladies and gentlemen I present:



Don't pretend you don't have the theme song in your head now...

While waiting for the episode with brad pitt in it, I found myself watching instead an episode that was about the horrors that occur when men are accused unjustly of fatherhood. That's right, back in the Right-On 80's when girls were wearing shoulderpadded jumpers to school and their mothers were wearing suits, they were also running around lying about who the father was. And the not-dad could do nothing. Nothing! He was impotent!

Ok, so this was an awesome episode for many reasons. One, it started with a blonde-cheerleader type standing in front of a class, learning public speaking (?) and stating how she started thinking about the party she would go to on Saturday night on Wednesday at school and would spend class time thinking about what to wear "her oversized pink tee with leggings or her short skirt?". Two, it contrasted blondie with slightly-less-blondie in the toilets who, using a test tube and a piece of paper (at this point I thought it would be another Very Special Episode about drugs at school) turned the water in the test tube blue. Blue! That's when I started to think maybe less-blonde was jesus or something (oh I so did not).

This episode really kicked it into high gear however when H. T. Ioki was called in to show his most awesome mullet integrity and fear in the face of baseless accusations. Observe:

Ioki in happier times

The thing that made me realise Ioki + Latham = True Lurve was the way Ioki and his splendiferous mullet were consistently and repeatedly rendered futile and redundant through the acts of women. It didn't matter that Ioki's hair required four cans of hairspray in order to exist. It didn't matter that he could out run and out stretch Johnny Depp. It didn't matter that totally hot, slightly wasted, babes wanted to pick him at bars - no, none of it mattered because he had No Control anymore and his voice had been... TAKEN FROM HIM. No one heard him anymore when he said "no" (well, except Tom Hanson. And maybe Ioki was just waiting for the day when Hanson would stop hearing "no" and start hearing.... "yes")

There's nothing like a serious mullet to ramp up the hysteria. Anyway. The episode just made me imagine Ioki and Latham, sitting on a couch in the dark together, sharing a bowl of popcorn and drinking some beer going "too fucken right mate, that shit is whack" "totally. these... what do you call them Mark, 'Sheilas'? Unbelievable!"