Sascha Martin’s Ripping News: the Podcast, by John Arthur Nichol

Teaser Episode 3: Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, Part Three

Our third and final Teaser concludes the tale of Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, an incident too rude to be told. At the end of Teaser 2, the galloping goo had overrun the last great bastion of order and authority. Now, listen on, as Sascha’s nightmare gobbles its way to an end that isn’t, though it’s pretty conclusive.

Worst day ever!

But is it? Really?

Sascha Martin’s Ripping News: the Podcast, by John Arthur Nichol

Teaser Episode 2: Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, Part Two

In Teaser 2 we continue the regrettable tale of Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, an episode taken out of sequence because laughter is an important thing to share. If you’ve listened to Teaser 1, you’ll know that something truly terrible has happened to Mary-Alice Cooper, drama queen; and now this truly terrible something is coming for everyone … and everything … and everywhere.

Now, listen on.

Teaser 3, where fate intervenes, and there’s no escape from terminal embarrassment.

Sascha Martin’s Ripping News: the Podcast, by John Arthur Nichol

Teaser Episode 1: Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, Part One

This story was written years ago, but I could never work out how to finish it because, as you’ll hear, there’s not much left to work with in the end. But I liked the story because it was funny and rude, and diabolical for the grown-ups involved. So here it is - Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo: an embarrassing story in three parts.

Teaser 2, where Sascha’s Gobbly Goo unleashes its naked power.

Sascha Martin’s Ripping News: the Podcast, by John Arthur Nichol

Teaser Episode 2: Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, Part Two

In Teaser 2 we continue the regrettable tale of Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, an episode taken out of sequence because laughter is an important thing to share. If you’ve listened to Teaser 1, you’ll know that something truly terrible has happened to Mary-Alice Cooper, drama queen; and now this truly terrible something is coming for everyone … and everything … and everywhere.

Now, listen on.

Sascha Martin’s Ripping News: the Podcast, by John Arthur Nichol

Teaser Episode 1: Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo, Part One

This story was written years ago, but I could never work out how to finish it because, as you’ll hear, there’s not much left to work with in the end. But I liked the story because it was funny and rude, and diabolical for the grown-ups involved. So here it is - Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo: an embarrassing story in three parts.

This should toot.

still testing

This is a test post.

First Post

which was actually the name of a wartime publication by the 1st Battalion, 2nd AIF (the City of Sydney Regiment).

Closure of Russian Consulate in Sydney

Petition EN5399

Only 18 days remain for citizens and residents of Australia to sign the e-petition to the Australian Government calling for the closure of Russia’s Consulate in Sydney.

Please read the petition and add your signature at:

https://www.aph.gov.au/e-petitions/petition/EN5399

Thank you

🇺🇦 #Ukraine #StandWithUkraine #RussiaIsATerroristState

A brown Dachshund prances across the road, its tiny legs like springs on the asphalt.

On Sunday the Russians killed a girl who’d only lived for 23 days. They also killed her parents, and her brother who was 12 years old. He died in the hospital.

At Wynyard the tiny girl squeezes past on her father’s arm. She looks right at me and I wiggle a finger at her. Her mother smiles. The girl is unmoved.

Inside the bus, a tiny girl is higher than everyone, squeaking real words as her dad points out the sights.

On a slope beside the Harbour Bridge approach two excavators lurk, one above the other.

A plump woman stands on the footpath, feet together, back straight. She holds out her phone like a certificate she’s been given at assembly.

Neutral Bay. Grind and Dose. Faces at the window.

88 and family decamp at Spit Junction. The girl and two women stand talking. The boy swings his arms.

A building site on the Spit. Sheds at the water’s edge and logos, an architect’s name. Yellow barriers floating round a couple of pylons.

The bridge is up. Three lights flash in a triangle at the bottom of the hill, but we stop half-way down where a wall of vegetation blocks the light. Alien plants. Scrappy invaders. They’ve captured an orange and white lane marker with a printed message taped around its perimeter. It can’t escape, and no one’s looking for it.

‘Wo-o!’ says a smiley girl with red-hair and freckles. She’s barely reached the top and the bus is lurching away. She grabs a pole and follows her friends. ‘Oh my god.’

A girl nearly goes head-first down the stairwell, tripping on her own foot as she crosses the aisle. But her hand grabs the pole and she descends in good order.

A young teen girl leans in to hug her mother at the B1 stop in Dee Why. Her hoody has woolly Autumn stripes and a big blue 88.

Outside Wills and Wishes, hands clasped, a middle-aged woman stands beside a big red wheely suitcase and a thing that’s fallen, like an expeditionary neck pillow. She wears a white three-quarter jacket and an air of formality.

A cabbage moth flies round the distant weeds, but as I approach the window it ducks behind the plastic sheeting.

I can feel it watching me.