I didn’t believe it when I heard it either, but fellow Pepsi Max-injecting junkies rejoice! There’s a new (albeit temporary) flavour of Pepsi sprouting up like crabs in the Logan twins’ jocks across the country. Alerted to me by Kate and Henry (whose camera-phone skills I must acknowledge here), it seems that Pepsi Samba (yes - Pepsi. Fucking. SAMBA) is Pepsi with a refreshingly tropical, yet zestily homosexual flavour twist.

It’s great to see that metrosexuality can now be BOTTLED. Even the bottle top seems to be in Vomituous Rage-Inducing Faggy Metrosexual Polo Shirt With Upturned Collar Peachy-Pink (that’s Taubmans #8512, if you’re interested in popping down to your local Mitre 10).

It makes me angry, and I don’t even know why. Perhaps it’s because Schweppes is behind all of this, and I’m still dirty on them for the withdrawl of Dr Pepper from the Australian market. Fuckers.

Actually, I think the Swans winning the AFL premiership in that arsey, backdoor let’s-creep-up-in-the-last-half-of-the-game way they’re becoming quite fond of is truly the source of my anger. It wasn’t enough to see my Cats get beaten by their football equivalent of a last-minute wedgie, but to then go on and pull the same trick twice more? Come on. I’m definitely flying down to Melbourne to see a few games down there next year, I’m a little weary of seeing the Swans thrash play Geelong every year and not witnessing any other games.

In the past, I’ve often mentioned that I reckon there’s an enormous untapped market for breakfast cola. It came as a surprise to me today, to discover that Pepsi actually tried this in the 80s, I shit you not! Available for a brief amount of time in the US was Pepsi AM: the breakfast cola, with double the caffeine! Unfortunately, it seemed to die in the arse after they realised that if you’re lazy enough to drink Pepsi for breakfast, you’re surely not going to be arsed going to the effort of buying special breakfast cola.

I went along to a taping of the Glasshouse last night. You know that segment where Dave Hughes walks around and asks members of the audience a question, while they’re waiting outside the studio? It was a bit strange.

Dave Hughes: What stresses you out?
Me: Umm… when your accountant defrauds your ABN for $30,000, then goes to jail, leaving you to pick up the pieces?
DH: Really?
Me: Ah… yep.
DH: So, ah… I see. Yep. So, umm… how old are you?
Me: Err… 26?
DH: Okaaaay. Welll. Umm, you’re a pretty cool dude then, aren’t you?
Me: (clicks tongue like a sleazy fuckwit and winks at Dave)
DH: Alright.
Me: (stands there gaping and grinning like a dickhead, hoping like hell this never goes to air)

I’m not sure who was feeling more awkward.

After seeing this segment screened later in the studio, I suddenly awoke to the fact that my beard does NOT make me look more metal at all, moreso homeless. So it got the chop this morning.

But the accountant story above is completely true - it’s just that it happened to Adam. In Melbourne last year, Adam got some random friend-of-a-friend accountant to handle his ABN stuff while he was freelancing. The other week, we got a phone call from the feds, to tell us that this guy had fraudulently claimed $30,000 against Adam’s ABN, and had been sent to jail! Apparently he managed to rip off almost a cool $1 million between us and 80 other people.

It’s only a really fucking pain because we have to try and get this $30,000 struck off from Adam’s ABN. You’d think it’d be simple, wouldn’t you? Instead, we’re paying some accountant hundreds of dollars an hour to rifle through the ATO’s files and sort the mess out for us, when we didn’t even do anything wrong. We’re trying to work out if we can get compensated somehow, but what an arse of an accountant! Wouldn’t you stop before the $100,000 mark, let alone the $1 fucking million mark?! What a knob.

…maybe I should become an accountant. If Virgin thinks they can sex up superannuation, surely I can create some sort of metal accounting agency? You could do shots of JD while your fringe benefits are calculated.

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