Mum’s Friend Energy

An Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response to being pushed down a stair case.

In the words of Trent Reznor - "I hurt myself today/to see if I still feel" - and in the words of Sophie Ellis-Bextor - "Why does it feel so good?"

An itinerary with no notes; an empty scrapbook waiting hungrily for your content to spill on its high quality card-stock pages. Go on a 3-day hedonistic journey and take this as your treasured journal - as well as being great for writing, the pages are highly absorbent!  

Pairs well with a tandem bike ride through an industrial estate, or a meet-cute at a methadone clinic. Throw water on your steaming face and rawdog the reality that is screaming towards you at ludicrous speed, you silent partner of a voyeur pig. 

Picture a frog. Now picture it's Workplace Team Manager. Then picture that Team Manager's Dad. Then picture the God that Dad worships. That God would take one look at Andre the Green Tree Frog/Loyal Companion/Beloved Icon, and that God would say 'whoa, hey man.'

We lost one of the best of us this week. Hop freely old friend. This one is for Andre.

A long, long bruncheon with kick ons, sleepy but productive. Sign the NDA, wad yourself up for safety, and watch the sun set over the corporate retreat foothills. It’s always lunch somewhere. 

A rustic and farm-to-table offering - mix your sweets, your sours and your umami into the suburban hangi oven you built out of a nearby abandoned retaining wall, stay awake for 30 hours contemplating the aromas, and then wrap it all up in that antique doily you were keeping for a special occasion. 

A corporate event with a late night filter - expect the loosening of ties and the claiming of nooks. This is a perfect occasion to go around pouring everyone else's martinis, jager bombs and fire engines into one big jungle juice for your own private consumption. Garnish with a Curried Egg, and chase with a Hail Mary.

A long and late lunch date - Find your favourite corner booth, order some coffees, maybe a reuben, Irish it all up (including the sandwich) and spend the rest of the afternoon talking about the 00's as though they were the 90's. It's 2025 and its nice to be alive.

A picnic comprised of forbidden snacks only - banned around the world for daring to be different. Grab a chunk of the Sardinian Casu Martzu, smear it on a Tuckerbag brand Anzac Cookie, and when you crack open your dry-aged Kinder Surprise, don't forget to eat the toy. 

A traditional family luncheon interrupted by a federal raid - get your documents in order, finish your last morsels of designer cheddar, and pour all the burgundy dregs into one big jungle juice to drink on the ride over to the Big House - where they let you draw with crayons and yell at the clouds you're not allowed to see.

A new batch, rich with problematic & meandering overtones.

One final time before we're back recording episodes again, comes an important message from the lizard queen herself.

A thirst-quencher for a modern age; Unapologetic, Unhinged, and Unpasteurised. To be consumed covertly in broad daylight.

A holy vintage - consecrated and desecrated twice each before breakfast. Get your thuribles out, and make sure their bases are flared. 

A drink made of winegrapes with a scoville rating. This is the sort of energy your great uncle - the one that the rest of the family doesn't speak to - would be bringing to the universe, if he had started a podcast. 

Let old acquaintance be forgot, and never come to mind. Let old acquaintance be forgot and be a good little parasite for mummy.

A Rare and Seasonal Message from your Loving, Corporate Emperors!