Bundaberg Rum (a trip down memoryless lane)

Bundaberg Rum UP
Bundaberg, QLD

When I was thirteen, I watched Billy Moore’s now infamous “Queenslander” chant during the 1995 State of Origin series. I remember thinking to myself that it was really nice of the Maroons to select such a high-profile sufferer of Tourette syndrome.

There is only one thing more Queensland than that fabled Origin moment... and that’s Bundaberg Rum. In fact, Bundy is even more Sunshine State than Wally Lewis sticking a bunch of bananas up Ian Healey’s bumhole, while on a fishing trip to the Great Barrier Reef.

I first tasted Bundy Rum at my friend Danni’s house as a fourteen year old. Convinced I could impress her with my drinking skills, I consumed enough rum to sedate every miner in Far North Queensland. I’m pretty sure I failed, unless she’s impressed with guys who burn their jeans in a bonfire and vomit on their Pearl Jam t-shirt.

Since then, I’ve had a bipolar relationship with the overbearing polar bear. Many Queenslanders refer to Bundaberg Rum as mother’s milk, whereas I like to think it’s more of an abusive stepmother’s formula. I can’t recall the number of mornings after sinking a dozen Bundy and Coke cans, that I’ve woken up feeling like I've actually spent the night with Ted Bundy.

So what is it about the sickly golden distillate that makes me return, time and time again?

Well, I simply believe that it’s a case of religious indoctrination. As a teenager, I was a pious acolyte of the Church of Bundaberg Rum. With a polar bear as my pastor, I spent my weekends being relentlessly molested by molasses. Today, as an alcoholic alter boy, I still read from the Bundy Bible.

Hallelujah!

Twice in One Hour!

Dear Secure Parking,

Last Thursday, I parked my Mum’s purple Honda Civic at your Riley Street parking lot in Darlinghurst. Why am I driving my Mum’s purple Honda Civic? Well, I recently sold my 1991 Subaru Brumby and haven’t found a suitable replacement yet. Unfortunately the Delorean from Back to the Future is still travelling through time to find a cure for Parkinson’s disease and President Obama won’t sell Air Force One.

I parked the car for one hour and thirteen minutes, between the hours of 1:36pm and 2:49pm at a total cost of $40.17. This included a surcharge of $1.17, which I can only assume is for the inconvenience of using my Visa card, rather than feeding $39 worth of ten cent pieces into your pay station’s coin slot. Next time I promise to be more considerate.

Paying this amount of money for one hour of parking seems exorbitant to me; here’s why:

Hypothetically, if someone named Rich went to Darlinghurst to visit a working girl named Destiny, at a brothel situated within walking distance of your parking lot; how much do you think he would pay per hour for her services? I know; the irony of a prostitute named Destiny is not lost on me either. Anyway, say Destiny charges $150 per hour - hypothetically. That’s only $111 more per hour than you charge for parking a car on a bare concrete surface. Do you think Rich faces an equitable predicament, considering the services rendered by both parties? I bet Rich wouldn’t think so. In fact, I reckon he’d know exactly what it feels like to be fucked twice in one hour.

I was wondering if there are any extra costs involved for parking on one of the upper-levels. Is there some kind of admission fee for using the stairwell to get to the ground floor? I only ask because I noticed that someone painstakingly recreated a scene from a Kings Cross public toilet in there. The pungent smell of stale urine was spot-on and the used prophylactic slumped over one of the stairs like a lifeless sea cucumber, was the icing on the urinal cake. Bravo to your art department for designing such an authentic installation.

If my parking cost was so high because of the entry fee to your stairwell gallery, please disregard this letter. If however, the use of the stairwell is complimentary, can you please inform “Rich” and I why the cost of parking in your car park, is relatively expensive when compared to shagging a hooker in a licensed bordello.

Cheers,

Rich Wisken

My Interview on ABC Radio Sydney.

This morning I was fortunate enough to be interviewed by Linda Mottram on 702 ABC Sydney. I think they blew their entire budget producing the promo for my ad.

Click the link below to listen.

Click HERE if you couldn't give a shit.

Thanks to Brendan King, Linda Mottram and Jacob Round for putting it together.

Erik - the Joffrey Baratheon of Online Classifieds...

Hello Erik from Castle Hill,


I see that you’re selling your white Volkswagen Golf R32 DSG on Gumtree. Cool car bro’ - just kidding. Can you please tell me what DSG stands for? Is it, “InbreD PlagiariSing ButtpluG?" The reason I ask, is because I noticed that you cut & paste the copy from my Brumby ad into your Gumtree listing, before adding a few bits and pieces of your own.

It’s OK though Erik, I’m sure this has all just been a big misunderstanding.

Imagine how upset I would feel if someone deliberately passed off my work as his or her own. I suppose I’d feel the same way you did when little Timmy stole your crayons at special school; maybe even as sad as when you wore your King Joffrey costume to the sheltered workshop last week, only to have a co-worker demolish your cardboard box fortress. Did you know that Joffrey’s Mum had sexual relations with her twin brother? Something I think you should talk to your Mum and uncle about.

Remember when your Mum used to tell you that life was like a box of chocolates? Well, I wonder if she’s disappointed that you turned out to be a Turkish delight - the shit one that nobody likes. Please don’t blame yourself for being illiterate though. It was bound to happen; considering your Mum misspelled “Eric” on your birth certificate all those years ago. What can you expect from woman who was high on PCP? Personally, I think it’s the prison obstetrician’s fault for not correcting the error.

I apologise if your Mum actually descends from Viking blood, in which case spelling Erik with a K is completely understandable.

Is this your Mum Erik? I can see why you’re selling your VW Golf. How on earth have you been taking her to the methadone clinic in such a small hatchback for all these years?

Anyway, I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you. Someone once told me that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. With this in mind, I’ve decided to imitate you by spending the weekend in my Mum’s underwear and furiously masturbating to One Direction videos.

Best regards,

Rich Wisken

Colosseum? More Like Mausoleum!

Dear Colosseum Pizza & Rib House,

I’m writing to see if you received my email a couple of months ago outlining the concerns I had with my order of one large ribs. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your reply...

Firstly, please confirm which animal the ribs came from. I don’t mean which animal specifically, just the species. I’ve thought about this long and hard and I’m convinced they must have belonged to a cat, or one of the Olsen twins - probably Mary Kate.

To be honest, I’ve seen meatier ribs in a World Vision commercial.

Your business name gives an impression of grandeur on an immense scale; after all, the Colosseum was the Roman Empire’s largest elliptical ampitheatre. Because of this, I was expecting to be presented with a rack of ribs similar in size to the one that tips Fred’s car over during the opening sequence of The Flintstones. Unfortunately, what I received looked more like Skeletor’s throne from He-Man and the Masters of the Universe - another childhood favourite cartoon of mine.

Don’t you think that for someone named Skeletor, he’s incredibly muscular? Me too.

Remember the movie Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe? It’s probably my favourite sports movie of all time. Basically, it’s about Rusty’s experience at the Colosseum. He gets really angry and kills lots of people in it, a scene I’ve played out in my mind countless times over the last couple of months. Don’t worry though, I’m not a violent person. At worst I’d probably just throw a telephone at you - another one of Rusty’s favoured combat techniques.

The one positive outcome from this experience is that I’m thinking of sponsoring a World Vision child. I haven’t done much research into yet, do I get to bring him home? If so, I’d probably go for one with a bit of sweatshop experience. I’m terrible with a sewing machine and since I lost so much weight - a consequence of meager rib consumption - I now require a skilled tailor to alter all my clothes. What do you think I should name the little guy? I’m thinking, Maximus.

I’m not after an apology, but I do want you to know that the $39.95 I paid for the replica graveyard you gave me could’ve been used to keep little Maximus and his family alive for a quarter of a millennium, which just happens to be the same amount of time it’ll take me to reconsider ordering from you again.

All the best,

Rich Wisken (and Maximus)

CLICK HERE TO READ PART II

Leonardo DiCaprio Wears a Watch - Sort Of

The Wild Stallion

Last year, I wrote an ad to sell my 1991 Subaru Brumby. I honestly thought that I'd be lucky to get fifty or so views, but as of today, the combined views between eBay and Gumtree surpassed 200,000.

If I had a dollar for every time someone viewed my ad, I'd have... I can't find my calculator. 

I've had some excellent replies, including: a nude photo and explicit home video from an exhibitionist in QLD, two marriage proposals, numerous copywriting job offers, and perhaps my favourite - someone telling me I should kill myself because I'm not funny. Brilliant.

Thanks to everyone who shared the ad with their mates and to Gumtree for posting it on their Facebook page.

The Brumby sold, but I'm not sure for how much. My team of accountants should finish counting the cash in 12-14 months.

*UPDATE*

Gumtree views = 1.75 million

No idea how many Facebook/Twitter shares

Click below for the ad

Orlando Wines, Coolabah, Fruity Lexia NV

Orlando Wines
Coolabah, Fruity Lexia NV (Goon)
Barossa Valley, S.A

Since 1973, Coolabah have equipped impoverished uni students and penniless backpackers with a highly functional piece of sleeping paraphernalia — the silver pillow. Perhaps the only examples of contemporary engineering that rival these shining headrests include: the Mars Rover and Iain Hewitson’s suspenders.

The box’s artwork depicts something I’ve never seen before; three adults drinking Goon from actual wine glasses, not a Hills Hoist in sight — clearly a surrealist piece.

A golden shower of flaxen-coloured liquid generously surges from the Golden Gallon’s nozzle. The aroma profile is a heady mix of house parties and Cottee’s orange/mango cordial. If my dad picked the fruit that went in this stuff, I’d put myself up for adoption. 

The saccharine fluid tastes like passionfruit and a girl I once knew, which isn't ideal. Fruity Lexia, like dyslexia, impairs a person’s fluency and their ability to read, write and spell. It also impedes one’s capacity to judge the attractiveness of the opposite sex.

If this syrupy concoction was a person, it'd be Zac Efron, because it's sickly-sweet and high-school girls desperately want it in their mouths.

Merkin Vineyards, Chupacabra 2006

Merkin Vineyards
Chupacabra  2006
California, USA

This potion was fermented in the cellar of TOOL frontman, Maynard James Keenan. Being a prodigious rock god wasn’t enough for MJK, so he decided to plant some vines in the harsh terrain of Northern Arizona and name the vineyard after a pubic hair wig. 

My apologies to any Beliebers out there, but only TOOL fans will understand this tasting Eulogy. 

After observing the wine's deep crimson colour, I was expecting to be punched in the face with a Stinkfist of aromas, however the nose was fairly restrained. I took my first sip after a brief Intermission of approximately Forty Six & 2 minutes - the perfect opportunity to Jerk Off.

Initially the palate is meaty and tannic, exhibiting cassis, cherry jam, black pepper and tobacco. An undertow of developed, Vicarious characters follow, which are indicative of the seven years this elixir has spent inside its glass sarcophagus. Like the after effects of an AEnema, the finish is dry and hot.

I felt Cold and Ugly before drinking this satisfying Opiate, but now I’m feeling pretty Rosetta Stoned - definitely not Sober. Staring at the empty bottle, I can’t help but think it’d make a good defensive weapon against a Hooker with a Penis trying to force me into Prison Sex. Upon Reflection, this scenario is highly unlikely, considering it hasn’t happened to me yet in the 10,000 Days or so that I've been alive.

Drink with mates, not tools.

Snake and Herring, 'High and Dry' Riesling 2012

Snake and Herring

‘High and Dry’ Riesling 2012

Porongurup, W.A

This wine's excellent label was clearly designed by a mental case on an acid trip. So, in that spirit, I’ve decided to drop four LSD tabs before reviewing it.

The light, straw green colour rapidly morphs into a kaleidoscopic pool of richly-saturated, tie dye spirals, reminiscent of a Grateful Dead t-shirt. It’s also worth noting that this is the first time I’ve witnessed a purple crocodile singing karaoke in a wine glass.

Potent lime and mandarin aromas dominate, but it’s hard to tell if the intense fragrance is wine-related, or because Jimi Hendrix is violently hurling citrus fruits at me from a fire-breathing unicorn. 

The palate is slightly spicy with loads of fresh lime. A clean, pure and strikingly dry wine, with a refreshing burst of acidity and a strong crisp finish. Perhaps the only negative about this wine is that half my face melted off during a conversation with baby Jesus...

Drink with Jerry Garcia + The Smurfs + foetal position

Turkey Flat, 'Butchers Block' Marsanne/Viognier 2004

Turkey Flat
'Butchers Block' Marsanne/Viognier 2004
Barossa Valley, S.A.

The nose on this Rhône-esque blend is more developed than the Western world. Complex apricot nectar, preserved lemon and Frangipani blossom aromas mix with nutty oak and Driza-Bone.

Its palate is as dense as Forrest Gump after going 12 rounds with Iron Mike Tyson. Ripe nectarine, mandarin and cashew flavours lead to a weighty, honeyed-fig finish. Unlike Mr Gump, this wine doesn't have the legs to run much further; perhaps a bullet jumped up and bit it directly in the butt-ocks...  

Drink with Lieutenant Dan + peas and carrots + a box of chocolates

FX Pichler, ’Dürnsteiner Kellerberg’ Smaragd Riesling 2007

FX Pichler 
’Dürnsteiner Kellerberg’ Smaragd Riesling 2007
Wachau, Austria

Intense citrus pith, peach and ripe pineapple aromas mingle with white flowers and ginger. 

A viscous palate of lime, almond paste and stone fruits yields complexity, while a streak of searing acid seamlessly balances the residual sugar. Great concentration, remarkable length and serious minerality. 

In fact, there’s enough minerals in this Riesling to make Gina Rinehart slap on a pair of lederhosen and start mining the Wachau region. Unfortunately, there’s not enough acid in this wine to wash the image of a lederhosen-clad Gina Rinehart from my eyes.

Drink with Tony Abbott.

Marq Wines, Cut and Dry Shiraz 2011

Marq Wines

Cut and Dry Shiraz 2011

Margaret River, W.A

Impenetrable black with an inky cherry hue. Aromas of dark plum, leather and mocha merge with grilled fig, black cherry and redskins. A beastly palate; full-bodied and rich with bold and juicy, yet remarkably approachable tannins. This Amarone inspired demon showcases cherry Coke, sticky date pudding, licorice and rhubarb flavours, which are complimented by a textural firmness and lengthy finish. 

Imagine if Hulk Hogan and Chuck Norris had a baby and it was raised by Bruce Willis and Genghis Khan... Well, multiply that virility by twelve thousand and you’re still not remotely close to the ruggedness of the brawny ogre!

Drink with UFC Heavyweight Champion + Power tools + Bear Grylls DVD

Yarra Yering, Dry Red No.1 2004

Yarra Yering

Dry Red No.1 2004 

Yarra Valley, VIC

Solid Grandfather clock cedar, powerful cassis and black olive aromas give way to delicate herbaceous undertones; think bushwalking in the rain. Dusty tannins, dark chocolate and cohesive fruit/oak assimilation provides balance, complexity and a persistent finish.  

Like a 2012 Christina Aguilera, it’s medium to full-bodied, yet still possesses plenty of “Genie in a Bottle” suppleness. This wine is “Beautiful” in every single way and will age far more gracefully than the irritating wannabe diva. 

Drink with Aladdin. 

Miranda Wines, Passion Pop Pink NV

Miranda Wines

Pink Passion Pop NV
Griffith, NSW

Ed Hardy tracksuit-pink in colour with fairy floss, glacé cherry and strawberry aromas. Confectionary flavours dominate a cloying palate, eased only somewhat by the fizz.

Statistically, this iconic bogan potion is responsible for 75% of Australian teenage pregnancies and 85% of all tramp stamps. Smashin’ Pop is also available in a purple 250ml tinnie, ideal for smuggling into the Blue Light Disco in your counterfeit Louis Vuitton clutch. 

Drink with a Chiko Roll and half a deck of Winnie Reds.

Ten Minutes by Tractor, 10X Pinot Noir 2011

Ten Minutes by Tractor 

10X Pinot Noir 2011

Mornington Peninsula, VIC

A vibrant maraschino and garnet kaleidoscope tempts the eyes. Fragrant strawberry and redskin aromas duel with Jamón serrano and sweet/savoury spice. 

Raspberry rollups and tart cranberry acidity supported by smoked meatiness and powdery tannins. A worthy example of Pinot Noir’s penchant for cross-dressing, even at such a young age. 

Like an infant Stephen Hawking, this Pinot is light, bright and already showing signs of complexity.

Drink with the nerds from The Big Bang Theory.

Xanadu Shiraz 2009

Xanadu 

Shiraz 2009
Margaret River, W.A.

More fruit-driven than Boy George’s car, this stellar Margaret River Shiraz would be right at home in Willy Wonka’s cellar (the original, not the shit Johnny Depp one).

Concentrated blackberries reminiscent of Wonka’s lickable wallpaper precedes a chewy burst of blueberries, à la Violet Beauregarde. Next, Im drowning in a dark chocolate river like that fat German kid, while a bunch of compassionless Oompa Loompas insensitively croon about my fate. 

A fruity beauty framed by fleshy tannins with traces of cinnamon and white pepper (maybe black pepper, I’m not a Spice Girl!). Nicely structured with more length than an everlasting gobstopper. 

I don’t care what Slugworth offers me, he ain’t touching this wine! 

Drink with steak + Snozberry jus.