Many people have sent this startling image to TLA and me. My sources say it was taken earlier this month on the Midland line. I can’t quite make out the details on the signs outside the window. I don’t know who took this photo – if you want an image credit, or can add to the story, please get in touch.
In October you were presented with mesmerising and disturbing signage at Peter Ferrall & Son’s Midland store. Now E.V shows us the state of Ferrall pere et fils‘ Rockingham signs. “These aren’t quite up to the worstness of the others, but they’re getting there,” E.V. said. Au contraire, E.V. – they are magnificent, and better. I’m sure I spotted these as they trudged down the road in The Road. To add extra sinisterness, I include an…object I papped at Guildford train station on the weekend. What does it mean, apart from not trusting anyone called Farrell? Who are the FGWA?
Update, Wednesday June 1: Lil’ Sis’, BoT’s sibling, kindly sent pics she took yesterday of those Midland Ferrall signs. See the image of Ferrall pere at the bottom. Yikes. It has, er, deteriorated since it was shown in October.
Arrrr. This be the hellish site that greeted us at the Ace Midland fo’csle afore we had our artistic mainbraces spliced at the latest Pirates of the Caribbean. To be sure, that young salty bogan dog doesn’t mind letting everyone have a peep around his poop. Arrrr. It was a forecast of things to come. I can’t believe Naggerz gave this four stars. It’s taking water fast at Rotten Tomatoes.
Is it really the end? Oprah ostensibly bade us farewell last on Friday night, but I fear she will again lurch into our lives, a la Frankenstein’s monster, all too soon. What a superb piece of calculating candy floss she is. Even Kitty Kelley couldn’t get her. Were Gail and Stedman to be seen last night?
I blame Oprah’s influence on women for this atrocity captured by Bento. Why just drive, when you curl your lashes too?
It’s enough to barricade yourself at home and chow down on some Fant. On special at Coles Woolworths Midland.
Let’s finish with some art: here’s the Coast Guard on the Cott groyne, before he was so cruelly mocked by TLA and Pete F after he’d headed south to Freo. Not worst.
That fucking rainmaker Bento: just after I checked in at Bobbi’s yesterday, he sends me a pic of a competing outlet. “Barragup is the pole dancing capital of Peel,” the balcony-strutting bozo says. Maaate: is Barragup that new Maylands sub-division? Wot-eva.
Do you think our parliamentarians pole-dance? They have planking on their minds: see this media release as evidence. A young person told me yesterday planking was “so 2008”. I don’t believe that. Black/white. Hemingway/Waugh. Vegemite/kausundi. Pole dancing/planking. Hoey/TL101. I’m sorry, I lost my grip on reality there for a moment.
Let’s face it, anyone planking and pole-dancing at the same time is OFF THEIR FACE and DANGEROUS. I love this strap in the latest Community papers. Is that an angel with a dirty face in the graphic? He is off his face, anyway. It’s a mass face-off. I’ve got the fear! The only thing we have to fear is the fear of people being off their faces. Face it, people: you are out of your trees, and as mad as a cut snake OFF HIS FACE. It’s all news near you (but not that near).
If it’s all getting too much for you – you know the number to call.
By James N. Sad palms guarding a plot of land that is anti action in West Swan. Perfect.
And one from Orbea showing the rooting of a Cocos. Another sad marker in the decline of Subiaco into a place that Maylandians laugh at. Have a good week of Outragia.
Youse pigs were very down on Real estate agents the other day. Let me restore your faith. Bento sends these baffling pics that seem to be trying to confuse the Maylands dweller into thinking that they may actually be living the Mount Lawley High life after all. Whoa. Dude. Wot fuck? What do these things even mean? Maybe my Maylands flat next door to the Dept of Corrections half way house unit where released criminals rekindle their love for heroin IS in reality a film about Mount Lawley prostitutes rekindling their love for heroin. And is therefore cool. I told those fuckers! Those…fuckers.
And, now, speaking of wtf, the other sign. The ad copy may have been crafted by a dog using a theramin as a text interface and rendered at the signwriters by a cat using a Moog as a bitmap reader. But, on the other hand, this is the agent who sold us our house, and he was pretty good, and I was fairly pasted myself as I went past the sign so, let’s call it even. 
Hey kids, I will be in China next week, so Outrage Cohen will be in the chair again from Saturday. I will post again from Tuesday the 7th of June. Internet access will be patchy, so I may not be able to receive your emails asking for him to be sacked. You can email him offerings at dcohen@amnet.net.au or ask him to sack himself.
Two more things from Margaret River. In our accommodation, fake broken plates, as if they had come from the Sutton Hoo barrow and had to be pieced back together. The other one had something about “Love her like she is a rabid vixen not on heat. Hate her like you’ll never meet again.” Or vice versius. And Girt by Sea. What knob names their wine Girt by Sea? I bought this wine because it said Girt by Sea on it. Margaret River is becoming the Subiaco of the Southwest I tells yas. On the other hand, apparently they are distilling Gin down there. I did not know that. Come on Great Southern Distillery. Why aren’t you sponsoring TWOP? There are thousands of drinkers wanting to jump onto my hard liquor diet.
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