The Haught guide to “journeys”

I don’t ask much from you, dear reader, so when I tell you today that I have a task for you, I’d appreciate it if you take it seriously, complete it assiduously and then report back in detail on your findings.

Here’s the task. After reading this article, keep in mind the word “journey” and take note of every time someone uses it in the non-going-for-a-long-walk-holding-a-crooked-piece-of-wood sense.

My hypothesis is that you’ll hear it around three thousand times every four hours.

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Resuming normal transmission

Haught hasn’t been running at full capacity recently.

I first knew there was a problem when my daily visitor stats dropped radically. Where once I was getting 3.45 billion visits a day, now I was getting a measly 1.98 billion.

I then started getting emails – up to 9000 a day – asking me whether I’d stopped Haughting. That was ironic, because the whole problem, apparently came from the fact that people weren’t receiving emails from me.

Turns out anyone who’s subscribed to Haught by email (in the “STAY HAUGHTED’ section on the right hand side of the blog) almost certainly hasn’t received a notification email in more than a month.

I have it on good authority that the problem has been fixed, or “solutioned” as some fuckwits say these days.

So this is a little post to say I’m still alive, I’m still riotously funny and here’s what you might have missed:

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The Haught guide to work farewells

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While in Barcelona, I once hid in a lavatory to avoid dancing.

The Contiki Tour I was on took us to a Flamenco bar and it became clear that, after dinner, each member of the tour would have to get up and dance with a proper Spanish Flamenco master (or mistress). The members of the group with natural rhythm fared OK, but then a bloke who went by the name of The Dazzler got up and made a complete fool of himself, approaching his partner as if she was covered head to toe in bedsores and dancing like he was covered head to toe in the sort of sunburn I thought only existed in the 1980s.

I watched for 90 seconds, realised that despite looking like a malfunctioning robot in a 1960s science fiction show – one whose flailing arms are made from corrugated tubing – he was a far more accomplished dancer than me, and fled to the toilets.

What’s that got to do with work goodbyes?

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Benign to Five on obliterating wank language

“It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.”

At least that’s what the character Syme from George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four reckons. Syme is a contributor to the Party’s dictionary of Newspeak, the language that will eventually replace standard English, and admits to the protagonist, Winston Smith, that he relishes destroying words.

Of course, Orwell meant Syme’s words to be taken as outrageous sacrilege by his readers. I, however, was recently inspired by them.

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Benign to Five on knowing when to fold ’em

Fishslice1

Fishslice1” by Original uploader was Jcvamp at en.wikipedia (Original text : FreeDigitalPhotos.net) Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.


Is there a more frustrating end to a conversation than “get over it?” Possibly “whatever” or a massive expulsion of wind, but it’s a close-run thing. “Get over it” is a favourite of fuckwits the English-speaking world over, a way of losing an argument without technically losing an argument.

If you’ve ever been told to “build a bridge”, “move on” or “harden up”, this column is dedicated to you.

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My email to Margaret Court

by Haught 9 Comments

Gay marriage. It’s died down completely as an issue since I wrote this letter to Margaret Court earlier in the year, but I thought I’d post it just for shits and giggles.

I don’t know what shits have to do with giggles. Do you? Margaret Court almost certainly does and I deeply regret not asking her what the shits/giggles link is in the below email to her.

Indeed, Margaret knows many things, including that “Australia is on a steep moral decline” and that “Minorities are now making it harder for the majority.”

I recommend reading Margaret’s Herald-Sun magnum opus from January before getting to my frippery:

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Benign to Five on dealing with difficult people

Difficult people are a dime a dozen, aren’t they? That’s less than one cent each, and still you’re probably paying too much.

People who use words like “douche” and “awesome” are difficult. People who speak loudly on trams are difficult. People who own Chapel Street bars are difficult. Shiny faced, purveyors of anger with persecution complexes are difficult. Wealthy people who say things like “If only I had that much money” are difficult. A majority of people are difficult.

So when the opportunity arose to attend a training course in learning how to deal with them, I screamed “You beauty!” in a stranger’s face and threw my coffee in the air. It probably landed on someone – I don’t really know.

Anyway, after I’d done the course, I wrote a column about it:

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Yet more erotic fiction

I’d like to begin this post with an apology. Sorry to everyone whose lives have been transformed by my erotic fiction and who have recently been without their newfound lifeblood.

(And if your life hasn’t yet been changed for the wetter:

Why has it been so long between drinks (or should I say Tequila shots?). Well, the truthful answer is that I was arousing myself so much with my words that I was starting to fear for my own wellbeing. That may sound like I’m self-satisfied, and that’s because I am. Hourly when I’m writing Cold Tequila Comfort. Which is precisely the problem.

Anyway, I’ve settled right down, and I’m going to give it another crack. If things get messy again, it may well be the last time Brunden, Broxell, Davis and the female characters (whose names all escape me just at the moment) grace the pages of this blog.

Read. Savour. Get sticky.… Read the rest

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The Haught guide to “learnings”

Image: Ben Tyers, 2014