Two-up on the shoes

Two-up on the shoes

My ANZAC weekend was filled with so many mishaps that I was surprised everything ran as smoothly as it did.

My long weekend started, as it has for the last five years, at the Harbourview Hotel in the Rocks, where I call two-up for the sea of punters till the early hours of the evening.

Thinking nothing of it, I squeezed into my corset and army fatigues, glued my hair on and was off. I don’t run a traditional game of two-up due to limited space -“ no bank and a three coin toss. After many explanations, we were tossing with the best of them.

That brings me to my first mishap. Though I had a fabulous shape, bound up like a Christmas turkey, my ability to bend was limited to nil. With coins on the ground and my talking for six or seven hours straight, the pinch of the corset quickly turned into a scream.

Beauty is pain, I just kept saying to myself -“ well, sometimes. Once my pennies were handed back for another year I poured myself into a cab and off to the Colombian Hotel for my show and some mingling. As soon as my music had finished, I was like Cathy Freeman crumpled on the floor in the change room.

With a brand new day and a very long soak in the tub, I fooled myself into thinking I was ready to go again. Firmly believing I had become smarter overnight in my sleep, I decided that for the MTV awards, which I would be covering for a friend and his internet television program, I would go sans corset but compensate by pushing everything to the chest area.

Just 40 minutes before I had to be in the media section on the red carpet, I discovered my lovely puppy Maxwell, who has been grumpy with me for ages due to the rain and his dislike of getting his feet wet, had decided to take out his anger by chewing up my footwear for the evening.

Take that for not taking me out to a dry place were clearly the words on his mind.

With my feet a mess from the 13-hour drag stint the day before, my heart sank as I sent my fabulous flatmate out to buy a brand new pair of heels. (All the girls will understand.)

I was soon hobbling out to the awards where, as I expected, my chest played a leading role with everyone I met on the red carpet. Even 50 Cent’s posse couldn’t help but ogle, though I did manage to keep them at arm’s length.

Thank goodness my position was secure and I didn’t have to do too much walking in my new shoes. After a very quick drink and squiz in the main arena of the awards with my glorious sister girlfriend Verushka Darling, I was in a cab heading home.

Despite the corset welts up and down my back, my little toenails falling off, pin pricks under my arms, blisters and who knows what else, I had a fabulous weekend.

Now, like any other boy from my family, I’m off to show my battle scars to anyone who will look, and if they ask how I got them -¦ well.

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