The Magic of Mo-vember

This post is best viewed on Mo-zilla Firefox. No, that isn't a lame pun. Firefox is just better than Internet Explorer. And don't even try viewing this on Facebook, or any form of book. Or face.

And so we have reached the end of what has been an amazing season of moustache growing. Hello, I'm Dunk Shetland, and this...is the Movember Molympics.



That was the Moustachioed Symphony Orchestra with the official anthem to tonight's proceedings.

Well what an amazing month it has been. Men all over Australia, and the world, have grown moustaches for charity (although any moustache growth out of Australia would be sheer coincidence, and not for charity). In fact, if you laid all the mo hair grown over this month end to end, you would have a very dirty floor to clean. ROFLCOPTOR. (do it again. properly, this time) ...hair grown over this month end to end, you'd have enough hair to end world hunger in Uganda.

We here at the Movember Molympics have been inundated with thousands of entries from all over Australia. They've all been marvellous, and there's been a few shit ones as well. But we're not here to celebrate shit this month. Incidentally, tune in later this month for our Faeces-cember celebrations. But tonight, we'll be celebrating the best of the best of the best moustaches. And we'll be awarding the best mo of the month of the year with The Grand Prize. Stay tuned to this page folks, because it's gonna get hairy.

Before we show this year's finalists, I should note that I haven't been shown any of the entries, so my reactions tonight will be very real and very ad-libbed.
Clunky exposition aside, we've got a phone call. Hello, you're on the air.


Hi. I was wunderin if I coold, like, enter the comp?

Umm, I think you're at the wrong contest. This is Mo-vember here, not Ho-vember (oh...). Grow a moustache (oh yes...) then you can enter (oh my god, harder...). And please stop having that sex over the phone - I can hear you groaning. There are children watching this. And for the love of God, can't this writer think of anything slightly more relevant?! (TAB: Inspiration)

*ahem*

Anyway, onward and forward to our first contestant. Shannon is from Richmond. Shannon works at oil-rig worker as an petty-cash officer and canteen assistant. Shannon's hobbies include dynamite fishing, flexing muscles and decoupage. Pretty impressive for an eight year-old. Shannon also insists that Shannon is never referred to in the third person, and that we always use Shannon's name when referring to Shannon. Ladies and gentlemen, here Shannon is, Shannon from Chadstone:


Right, we're going to have to disqualify Shannon's entry. The rules specifically mention that nobody, other than the Movember contestant, is allowed in the entry photo. It's a shame, too, because that was a pretty awesome mo Shannon's got there.


Anyway, on to our next contestant: Nick is from Melbourne. He is currently completing his masters in philosophy. His id is a light hue of blood orange. He can speak fluent Wingdings, is so post-modern that he's old-skool, and can spot the phallic reference in any movie in existence. He also believes that contests are a stain on society, and that people shouldn't attempt to compete against each other in any arena, as any prize, material or immaterial, is rendered futile by the inevitability of death and the decomposition of the body and the apparent-soul, as well the impending destruction of the End of the World when the Sun expands, which will vaporise every trace of human existence. That is why he has sent us this picture of an infant poking, Facebook style, a kitten, which is being stabbed in what appears to be its Broca's Area with...a USB stick.

Quickly escaping from that, it's time to update the progress of our international mo-grower, Daniel from Paris, Texas. Let me remind you that that region has got very few people able to grow moustaches, and that moustache hair is highly sought after, with a good handlebar mo going for about 75c a kilo. Daniel states that he likes Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. He has also says that he's based his life entirely on the lyrics of Escape (The Pina Colada Song), and plans to make his wife change her name to Rupert Holmes. Comforting. Last time we checked, he had grown a porn-tache so great, we couldn't show it on TV. It is, however, available from your local sex shop.
Anyway, let's see how that's mo's developing:


Ugh, that's...*throws up*
It appears that Daniel has had his moustache ripped from his face by the locals...and he also seems to have fallen in some kind of Fountain Of Youth, until pre-pubescence by the look of things.


We'll go to a commercial break to give you, the audience, time to clean up.



Welcome back to the Molympics. We've got a few more contestant to present before we announce the winner.

Maybe it will be Chad from Epping. He says he's been growing his mo for about three years now, and has featured on the cover of The MOnthly three times in a row. Incidentally, his father, Stanley, is the editor of The MOnthly. Mark also asks if I could say hello to his posse, the Rat-tailed Wankers. Well Mark, I'm glad you asked, because I won't, you nepotist arsehole. However, I will show your photo, as the producer is forcing me to.


That's a pretty impressive Mo-nobrow, but we're looking for the best moustache. Try again next time when the local charity decides to replace Movember with Movember.


Our final entry comes from Greg Matthews, former test cricketer and current cricket commentator. Here's the entry from the tied-test hero himself:


That one's for the cricket nerds out there. Yeah, yeah.


And we've got another phone call here. Hello?



Hi. I totally gots a mousetashe now. LOL!

'I HAVE a moustache, now'. 'HAVE'. And besides, we only accept moustaches made of hair, not milk.


But it ain't milk. That's so fattening. No, this mostash is made of seme-

And we've lost contact with our caller. For those of you not viewing the programme with the Subtext(tm) feature turned on, we've cut the connection. This programme is family entertainment, we can't have talk of adult behaviour like semen, deepthroating, bukake parties, swingers parties, the Liberal party or penetrative docking here (TAB: Don't search that last phrase up on Google, lest your head spin in disgust/lose your virginity. Same with the one before it)


And now, after all this padding of airtime because my producer told me to, it's finally that time of the night, where we announce the winner of The Movember Molympics. They will walk away, or more accurately, receive at their house from a courier, the Grand Prize:

*rummages in pockets*

This Kinder-Surprise toy!


And the winner is:



*drumroll please*





Paula from...somewhere near...places. And what a great mo she's got. Like a horse from a sixties TV show (of course, of course) being allowed its last words before being sent to the glue factory, we'll let this horse/image speak for itself.




Congratulations to our winner, and to all the people out there who did their part for Movember. The Gods are certainly smiling down on you tonight. We'll leave you tonight with a picture of my handlebars:



Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen!





Some housekeeping: Remember, kids and litigious types, this is intended to be a piece of satire. The people described in the text are not real and have no relation to the people/objects pictured. The pictures' source can be accessed by clicking on the picture. And the fourth-last to second-last images are clearly altered with Microsoft Paint. Play nice, now.

The countdown

A tale which poses the question: Who actually likes their job?
10 - Ten years I’ve been doing this job. And all of it has been a living hell. Crap conditions and no benefits whatsoever. Why did I even choose this gig?
9 - $9,500. That’s all I get paid for this. Despite all the effort and determination I put into every year, some pimple faced kid at a fast food joint gets paid more than me.
8 - Eight years ago, I had the chance to leave. Why, oh why, didn’t I just run? Was it pride? Was it the love for this job? I feel like such an idiot, now that I look back at that opportunity.
7 - Seven injuries I’ve had on the job. My life has been on the line so many times, but I never get any acknowledgement for this. So many burns, yet I’ve never received even one compo cheque.
6 - Six times I’ve been rejected by ladies that I’ve fallen in love with. None of them liked my job, they said. Only a loser would do what I do, they said.
5 - Five years after I took this job, I finally found the true love of my life. She didn’t care about my job, she cared about me. Either she is lying, or she is much of an ignorant idiot as I am.
4 - Four other jobs I’ve had in the past ten years. They didn’t like this job, either. They wanted me to focus completely on their job, not on this little game. Why did I not listen to them instead of blowing up their cars?
3 - Three kids that I take care of, all of them under 10. Yet they still are ashamed of their father’s part time job. How pathetic. Not even a child who doesn’t know their times tables would do this job.
2 - Two things I hold close to my heart. One is my family. The other is the saying: ‘Don’t dream. Don’t think. Do.’ Well I’m not a hypocrite, so I must do something about this hole I’ve dug myself in.
1 - One hundred thousand people are watching. So here goes nothing. I Quit!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
…
…
“Hey, where are the fireworks?”
“What’s happened? Is the fireworks guy asleep or something!?”

Corporate X-mas: Deleted scene

Because everyone seems to look forward to these on their DVDs, and because I'm a cheap bastard who has to give. Enjoy.
CEO (Santa): …And for those long-winded reasons, next year, my uniform and sleigh will retain the signature Red colour scheme. Anyways, on to more important issues at hand. Manufacturing division, your report, please.
Head of Manufacturing (Elf #42925 Jr.): This year has been very successful for North Pole Enterprises. We have been able to, if you will, kill two birds with one stone.
Santa: Please don’t mention birds or any other edible animal, please. I can’t get off this vegan diet my doctor has force-fed on to me. Those darn kids with their milk and cookies. Each year, I try to resist. But who can resist milk and cookies!? Thanks to that bloody stereotype, I’m not allowed to eat anything that even remotely tastes goo -
[Awkward silence as Santa becomes aware of the strange looks from the board]
Santa (cont.): Sorry. I kind of digressed there for a second. Anyway, please continue number four-two-nine-two-five.
Elf #42925 Jr.: Thank you, sir. Anyway, last year, we had two major problems to overcome. According to accounts, we needed to reduce costs or we would end up broke in the next couple of years. But at the same time, the elf unions demanded higher wages. (To self: Yet you wouldn’t pay up, cheap bastard)
Santa: What’d you say?
Elf #42925 Jr.: Nothing, nothing at all. (ahem) Like I was saying, we’ve solved all of these problems. Around February, North Pole Enterprises were able to acquire a toy manufacturing factory in China. Wage costs alone in those sweatshops are about a third of what we used to pay to the elves.
Unfortunately, this has left many, many elves homeless, forced to live in shoddily built snow caves.
Vice President (Dixen): Don’t worry about that. We’ve made a deal with the North Pole Crisis Squad to end their suffering.
Elf #42925 Jr.: How, may I ask? Food, shelter, guns? What?
Dixen: By giving each and every stranded elf a million candy canes(!) By eliminating them, of course!
[Awkward silence]
Elf #42925 Jr.: You Bastard. You Sick Bastard! I’ve had it up to here [Raises hand about 72cm off the ground] with your evil dictatorship. It was the only way to provide for my family. But now, you’ve gone too far! I’ll kill you! I swear on Donna’s grave I’ll kill you! All of you!
Dixen: Hey, my sister is still alive, short stuff. You can look me in the shins and insult me, but if you dare mention my family-
Elf #42925 Jr.: [Pulls out pistol] Screw you and all!
Santa: [Into intercom] Security.
[Bang]

[A few minutes later]
Santa: Okay then. [Wipes blood off beard into red uniform] Sorry about that…diversion. Let's move onto Public Relations.
[Stretcher carrying corpse bumps into a door, breaking the tension]

A very corporate Christmas

You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I'm telling you why. Santa Corp is coming to town.
(North Pole Enterprises. Board meting: 7th day of Christmas)

CEO (Santa): …And for those long-winded reasons, next year, my uniform and sleigh will retain the signature Red colour scheme. Anyways, on to more important issues at hand. Manufacturing division, your report, please.
Head of Manufacturing (Elf #42925 Jr.): This year has been very successful for North Pole Enterprises. We have been able to, if you will, kill two birds with one stone.
Santa: Please don’t mention birds or any other edible animal, please. I can’t get off this vegan diet my doctor has force-fed on to me. Those darn kids with their milk and cookies. Each year, I try to resist. But who can resist milk and cookies!? Thanks to that bloody stereotype, I’m not allowed to eat anything that even remotely tastes goo -
[Awkward silence as Santa becomes aware of the strange looks from the board]
Santa (cont.): Sorry. I kind of digressed there for a second. Anyway, please continue number four-two-nine-two-five.
Elf #42925 Jr.: Thank you, sir. Anyway, last year, we had two major problems to overcome. According to accounts, we needed to reduce costs or we would end up broke in the next couple of years. But at the same time, the elf unions demanded higher wages
Fortunately, we’ve solved all of these problems. Around February, North Pole Enterprises were able to acquire a toy manufacturing factory in China. Wage costs alone in those sweatshops are about a third of what we used to pay to the elves. Thanks to this, I’ve heard that profits are up five-fold.
Santa: That’s excellent news. Let’s hope this trend continues as we move on to Public Relations.
Head of Public Relations (Rudolf): PR, as you know, is all about increasing the belief that people hold in our cause. This belief is the main selling point to all our investors. Super Fun Happy Toy Incorporated alone bought an extra 0.7% stake of North Pole Enterprises based on last year’s increase in belief units.
We have had an increase in belief units for this year, but it isn’t as high as we anticipated. The main cause for this lower than expected result is due to the unexpected failure of this year’s propaganda device.
Santa: You mean ‘Choo-Choo Train to Santaland’, that film we spent $40 million on, $10 million of that on that famous actor, Joe Pascipade?
Rudolf: Yes, that one. Despite Mr. Pascipade voicing many of the characters, it failed to hit the adult demographic as hard as it could. And the subliminal messages we planted basically flew over the kids’ heads.
Santa: But those scumbags still got the basic message, right?
Rudolf: Yes, sir, they did. But only at about half the potential.
Santa: Well you better do something better next year. Or your nose won’t be the only thing that’s red. While you’re at it, remind me later to add this Pascipade to the naughty list.
Rudolf: Yessir.
Santa: Okay, Mr. Santa Deployment head, give me the rundown.
Vice-head of Santa Deployment (Bing Bowie): This year, like every year before it, went nearly without a hitch. All the necessary people were trained in our Santa Duplicate Academy, passed with flying colours, and were deployed to the appropriate areas. Additionally, testing for our planned Christmas Cynics Brainwashing Program have yielded good results.
Santa: What about this ‘nearly’ you mentioned at the start?
Bing Bowie: Umm, as usual, there were a couple of incidents where some punk teens stole the duplicates’ fake beards. [beat] But also, you second cousin in Iceland caused some problems. Apparently, one family was dissatisfied with their holiday there. They went on the news about it, and the rest is, well, sensationalist history.
Santa: For the love of...Why am I not surprised that he was involved in this. We might have to get another intervention and AA team on him.
Look, I’ve had enough bad news for now. Let’s take a break. We resume in one hour.
[The rest of the board leaves except for one]
Santa: So, how did your division go?
Head of discreet operations (Juan): Everything is going as planned. We’ve been distributing copies of the standard Christmas conversion projects, ‘Miracle on 34^th Street’ and ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’, to various non-believers. That’s why PR reported that growth.
Santa: And…
Juan: Yes. And we’ve managed to extract some more immortality elixir. You’ll be doing your thing for yet another year.
Santa: Very good. You can go now.
[Juan leaves. Santa leans back on chair and sighs]
Santa: Why did I let them make me change Christmas to this whole corporate bullshit? Christmas Spirit my fat, saggy arse.

and on that rather optimistic note, have a very merry Christmas. watch this space for a special present.

The Olympics starring Australia

Ingredients for an Olympic coverage: Homeland bias, a touch of politics, and a crapload more homeland bias.
Host: ‘Welcome back to or coverage of the Olympic games. We you enjoyed that last montage of all of the Australian gold medallists. At the last count, that’s the 426th time that we’ve shown that sequence. I think that’s a WORLD RECORD! GO YOU GOOD THING! AUSSIE, AUSSIE, AU… [gurgle…gurgle].
Ahem, sorry about that. Just had to dip my head in freezing cold water to calm myself down. Anyway, I’m sure that we will show you another of those golden sequences, probably the exact same one, in the next half hour or so.
Anyway, what a day it’s been. Full of events, full of controversy, and there’s still a lot more to come. But to recap what’s already happened, let’s go to the newsroom for the latest Olympic news.’
Newsroom girl: ‘Thanks. And what a brilliant effort there by you. Four-hundred-and-twenty-six times. That’s definitely a gold medal effort there by you.’
Host: ‘I know. It’s just so great because the Aussies are so great. COME ON EVERYBODY! SHOW YOUR PRIDE! AUSTRALIANS ALL LET US REJOICE! FOR WE… Hey, let go of me. No! Not the calming cattle prod. Anything but the calming cattle prod! Help. Hel-’
Newsroom girl: ‘Sorry about that. Anyway, back to the latest. The events that have unfolded in the Pool C football match are just too much for words to describe. Just see for yourself. This is the Pool C football match between the United States and Iraq’

Football commentary: ‘We’re half-way through the first half here in this historical match between USA and Iraq. The bangs of gunfire and screams of horror have been replaced with the bangs of kicking and screams of enthusiasm. These Iraqi and American spectators have been treated to a brilliant match. 2-all with twenty minutes to go in this half.
Oh. One of the Iraqis has been given a foul for tripping the American striker. It looked like a dive though, and that’s what the Iraqi thinks too. He’s arguing with the umpire…and he’s been given a yellow card.
And he is not happy. He’s running up to the American and…ooh; he’s thrown a punch. We’ve got a fist-fight now, folks. Scratch that. We’ve got a melee here. Both sides are tearing into each-other. Blood is falling all over the place.
Now the Spectators are joining in. The American fans are getting their pistols out, and the Iraqis are getting their rifles out as well. What has happened? What was once a peaceful match has become a war zone. But what a sight it is though. KILL HIM…KI [bang].
(Oh my goodness…the commentator's been killed with one of them bullets. Someone get a camera in here!’)

Newsroom girl: ‘Disturbing images, there, from the football arena. The results, by the way, are: America 2, Iraq 2; and the death toll is currently at 45. At least Australia wasn’t involved. Wait. I’m just getting some news here… [gasp]. I’ve just heard that one of those killed was an Australian spectator. He seems to be nobody famous, but… [sob]…he’s an Australian. [sob] Back to you in the studio.’
Host: ‘Thanks a lot for the latest. Dramatic stuff there in the football. Reminds me of what happened yesterday in the shooting range. Coincidently, America, Korea and France were competing against each other in the trap shooting. The world record was broken there. The American managed to get 16 confirmed kills in one minute before he was taken down by his own bullet.
Well, onto the next event in our coverage. The boxing has brought out the best in Australian boxing. Fellow Aussie Gorgeous George has reached the semi finals. Gorgeous is now fighting the American Joe Paxton for a place in the finals. We pick up the fight in the third round. Australia leads 42 points to 40.’

Boxing commentary: ‘Welcome back to the arena here. What a fight it’s been. We’re up to the forties in the third round, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop too soon. Punches have been landing here, there and everywhere. [ding]
And there goes the bell. Australia is up by two points. They lead 56 to 54. They’re at their corners now. It…it looks like Gorgeous has received a message. Let’s see if we can get a camera there. Here we go. It looks like a message from Canberra. I can make out a little bit. It says, "Congratulations on the third round lead, but…" [ding].
Well, the bell has gone, and the fourth round has begun. They’re going up to each other, and…wait a minute. Paxton is landing punch after punch. And Gorgeous isn’t doing anything about it! He’s just standing there while being beaten up. And down he goes! It looks like he’s received quite a belting. Brain damage looks quite likely here.
We’ve just got a hold of the rest of that message. It said, ‘Congratulations on the third round lead, but please stop winning. It’s for the good of the nation and for the good of our relationship with America.’ Well, what a turn of events here. Gorgeous has thrown the fight, but for a good cause, apparently. Look at the American, showboating his way around the arena. He’s got a song and dance sequence going right now. Anyway, back to the studio! Goodness, he’s doing a striptease. TAKE IT OFF! Man boobs, man boobs, man boobs...’

Host: ‘A brilliant boxing match there. It’s a shame we didn’t win, but at least we lost to a brilliant opponent. And what dignity he lost with too. He didn’t even put up a fight. It’s time for a commercial break, but before that, we’ve got a dedication to the poor Australian that was involved in the football, quickly followed by the Australian gold medallist’s montage. GO AUSSIE GO! WALTZING MATILDA, WALTZING MATILDA. YOU’LL COME A WALTZING MATILDA WITH ME...’