The Sacha Drake Dress

A strange series of almost-events happened to me during the final week of the election campaign.

A few days out from polling day, I was approached about being a panelist on a weekend news/lifestyle program the morning of March 24. The discussion would be, predictably, state election focused. I believe the criteria had been "female, from radio, not the ABC", so there wasn't a whole lot of choice, but still, it was lovely to be asked.

I grew a little nervous as I don't have much television experience, and to be honest with you, my brain was in such a campaign-induced fugue I doubted my ability to contribute in any constructive way. Plus I'd have to arrive at 6am.

I was pondering this impending date with a live camera on the second-to-last day of campaigning. It was Thursday morning, the realisation that I would be working until 2am Friday had yet to set in, and I'd bought a delicious sausage roll, so was happy enough hanging out while politicians talked to school-kiddies and parents and whatnot.

Then I noticed one of the mothers was wearing a stunningly smart navy blue dress with white trim. It was dead simple, but beautifully cut, and perfectly captured a "professional yet fun" style. All of a sudden I realised the answer to my TV conundrum. A DRESS. If I wore a great dress, then at least I'd look confident and put-together, even if I didn't feel it.

"Excuse me, I'm really sorry, but can I ask where you got your dress?"

"Oh!" the lady laughed at my ambush. "It's a Sacha Drake. I used to do PR for her, and look, I still am!"

Sacha Drake?

"Is it a Brisbane design?" I asked.

"Oh yes!" the lady replied. "She's fantastic. Makes clothes to fit normal women. They hide everything."

I explained my reasons for asking.

"You know she dresses people for TV all the time," the lady replied. "I can give her a call if you like. She'd probably arrange a loaner for you."

Within 15 minutes, this lady (whose name I frustratingly cannot recall, blame campaign brain) had taken my name and details. Before the bus had even left the school precinct to head to the next electorate stop, Sacha Drake herself rang me.

"No problem!" she said cheerfully, when I relayed the story about the TV, and the random dress-related approach to this lovely stranger.

"Are you sure?" I said. "I don't want to inconvenience you, it is just for a brief appearance."

"I'm always happy to see my clothes on TV!" she said. "I'll get my PR girl to give you a call, and work out some options. What size are you?"

"A 14," I said sheepishly.

"So am I!" she replied. "I've got lots of styles that will suit."

Back on the campaign bus another 15 minutes later, and I received a call from Sacha's PR girl. She took down my email address, and promised to send me pictures of size 14 dresses they had easily accessible, so I could choose one and then pick it up from their Brisbane store.

By the time I received the email, I'd googled Sacha Drake and discovered that she was, in fact, quite well-known and much-beloved for her glamourous yet practical designs.

At this point, I got Very. Excited. For the first time in my life, I was going to be Dressed. I'd approached a random lady, and the universe being what it is, somehow found myself being happily offered a dress to wear by an Actual Fashion Designer.

Of course, the universe being what it is, the excitement would only last a few hours.

Later that Thursday afternoon, I checked my emails again to discover a message from the weekend news/lifestyle program. They'd decided to "change tack" with their segment, and didn't have space for me anymore.

But.... but... but... I was getting Dressed! By a Designer! I'd gotten excited! I'D EVEN TOLD MY PARENTS TO WATCH.

It almost broke my heart to write back to Sacha's PR girl and tell them I was very sorry but I wouldn't be needing the dress after all. TV had rejected me. Well, they hadn't rejected me, they'd just changed their format, but still, sleep-deprived and surrounded by politicians, I felt entitled to feel a bit sorry for myself.

These ladies had been so generous to me, without knowing who the hell I was, and I felt like I'd let them down. I resolved I would go to the Sacha Drake boutique in Paddington and damn well buy myself one of her lovely dresses. It took me a while, but I finally managed to get there last weekend.

I spent close to an hour trying on frocks, with the enthusiastic help of a kind assistant. I was so overwhelmed by the time I finally bought something, that when she asked me to input my PIN into the Eftpos machine, I actually just looked up and TOLD HER THE NUMBER. I have never done that before in my life. Obviously I subconsciously wanted Sacha Drake to have all of my money.

Thankfully, she only took enough to allow me to take home this:

This is my Sacha Drake dress. It's called Iris and I love it. I'm probably never going to have the discipline to lose the weight I probably should, but it's reassuring to know that I can still wear nice things that fit the "professional yet fun" category.

I also developed a bit of a crush on this dress:

It's called the Maddison, and while it comes in several different colours, this sapphire is the best. I tried it on and it was heavenly. But I just don't know where I would wear it! Perhaps if I was invited to more special events? Or maybe I could do some sort of challenge where I wear the dress in a bunch of places you wouldn't actually wear a dress like that. Until I come up with a good justification/sufficient cash it will remain a "one day" purchase.

So that's the story of my close encounter with TV and my Sacha Drake dress. Do you have a tale about an item of clothing that gives you a confidence boost?

More to Follow

I attended the lovely wedding of my friends Alister and Erin yesterday. Here's a picture of all three of us taken in the Photo Booth they had at the reception.

You get about 10 seconds between automated shots to work out
different poses. Sometimes you freeze. Hence examining our feet.

 I tell you what, aren't those photo booths hugely popular now? I've been to three functions in six months that have had them. They're pretty fun, and it's always good to give people something to do at a reception, I find, apart from supplying non-stop free booze, of course.

Anyway, we had an hour and a half between the end of the ceremony and the reception, so a crew of the improviser contingent (we're Al's nerdish comedy friends) headed to a pub for a preparatory libation and some relaxed banter.

The front bar had a few copies of The Courier-Mail lying around, so I had a flick through, and lo and behold, came across this on page 7 of the Life lift-out section.

It's titled "Five Radio Folk to Follow" on Twitter, and look! There's me!

Not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed they
didn't use one of my many expletive-laden tweets.

Thanks to editor Rod Chester, aka @Chesterrod for including me. It's lovely to be called an "entertaining blogger". I'm going to have to learn to juggle flaming sticks or something to provide more entertainment going forward. Maybe I could jelly-wrestle a lion or perform a tracheotomy on a recently arrived immigrant or something. Suggestions welcome, obviously.

One thing I definitely CAN do is point you in the direction of ImproMafia's upcoming Theatresports Gold Coast show. It's happening THIS Saturday 2 June at The Arts Centre Gold Coast.

It's just $20 a ticket, $17 concession. It's our first show on the Gold Coast, and we're really excited. If you're a local, and you enjoy live comedy, do come along. I'm the MC for the evening, so I can guarantee you a big night of laughs. Or I will personally beat our performers with birch branches.

Raven On: Game of Thrones S2E8 Recap

Can you believe there are only two more episodes of Game of Thrones left? I'm becoming a bit despondent about the impending end of Series 2. I'm not quite sure what else there is in life to look forward to, if it's not the wholesale slaughter of characters I've come to know and love like a dysfunctional bunch of hedonistic psychopaths.

Don't forget to catch up on Episode 7 before grabbing your goldcloak, don your mask of bone and strapping in for another installment of Raven On!

Of course, reading onwards entails the brain-bursting discovery of MASSIVE SPOILERS.

Episode 8: Release the C-Bombs!

I'm fairly certain this week's episode contained more c***s than ever before - and they swore a lot too. Boom tish, thank you, thank you, try the veal. Cersei and Tyrion dished a few out, but the winner was definitely Yara, telling off her brother Theon in the Great Hall of Winterfell. I wish I could come up with an equally devastating insult to that colon-swabbing plop-bucket Theon, but I fear Yara took the cake with her own brand of salty repartee.

This was another episode of waiting for the attack on King's Landing/the clash between the northern host and the Lannister army, but still lovely moments and character development. It's all limbs a-flailing for the Starks: Cat give Jaime a leg up to escape; Arya legs it out of Harrenhal; Bran gets his broken legs back in the basement of Winterfell; and Robb gets a leg over the Lady Talisa.

But let's start with the most DELICIOUSLY EVIL scene of the show - Cersei's confrontation with Tyrion over his "little whore". OH MAN. Again, I hate to brag, but I knew from the start that it would be Ros, not Shae, who'd been captured. As much as she's intent on revenge for Myrcella's removal and Joffrey's impending date with combat, it was simply not possible to have Cersei do over her brother that easily. Well, do over Tyrion that easily at any rate. 

"You're a c***."

HOW GOOD was Tyrion's reaction and handling of the situation? He revealed nothing, kept any bubbling emotion locked away. He would be devastatingly good at Tarth Hold 'Em. And his Statement of Doom to Cersei after comforting the shocked Ros was epic.

"Yes, my dear sister, but I think you'll find
you're the one who's completely f***ed."

Initially I thought Tyrion may have set something up, but his panicked return to his room to find Shae and his pleas with her to be more careful proved Cersei had caught him out on that one. They had a really touching moment together, even if it did prove Cersei right that his "little worm" ("It's not that little") does some of his thinking for him.

Someone else who was doing a *teensy* bit of thinking with the downstairs department was Jon Snow. Still up in the wilds beyond the wall, his kindness (horniness?) towards Ygritte turned out to be deadly for a bunch of his fellow Night's Watchmen. "They died because of me?" he asks the captured Quoren. "Make sure it was worthwhile," he replies. The pair of them get roped up and hauled off, presumably to finally meet Mance Rayder.

Meanwhile Sam & co are still on the Fist of the First Men, slaving away shovelling snow, only to find the leftover pack of a Ranger, including shard of obsidian, or "dragonglass". Who left it? My punt is on the still-missing Benjen Stark.

Having been turned loose by Catelyn in a desperate effort to get Sansa and Arya back, Jaime tries to niggle Brienne, who's been sent to deliver him back to King's Landing. I hope she tips him out of the canoe a few times along the way. Meanwhile Catelyn's incurred the wrath of not only her son, but Lord Karstark, and that bloke has a beard you could lose a shadowcat in.

"This is just my summer beard, and winter is coming."

Danerys and her enormous eyebrows are just wondering about in Qarth moaning again about her missing dragons, while Jorah acts all lovetorn and protective. This scene to me felt like it was inserted just to remind you that she's still around and determined and whatnot. Frankly I would've liked to see something of Xaro and the warlocks in their new roles in charge of the Greatest City That Ever Was.

Tywin Lannister is still f***ing awesome. That's what I love about this show; complete bastards who you believe need to die horribly still gain your unswerving respect.

Yay! (Best Moments)

I've seen a bit of disdain for the Robb/Talisa love story on other reviews/recaps - but I don't mind it. There was a great moment when she asked him how he was, only to receive a complete list of all the f***ked things that have happened to him, up to and including having to arrest his own mother for treason. Being King in the North sure isn't a Walk in the Park. But still, after Talisa's lengthy explanation of her journey to becoming a healer, they finally got to strip down to everything but their boots Who knew a childhood near-death experience could be such a turn-on? Of course, it raises a problem for Robb, in that he's supposed to marry one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters in return for safe travel across the Twins, but I guess he'll CROSS THAT BRIDGE WHEN HE COMES TO IT. (Do you see what I did there?).

Stannis' explanation to Davos, the "Onion Knight" about why he's pursuing the Iron Throne actually made the last Baratheon brother a bit more sympathetic. There the guy was, eating horses and cats to hold Storm's End during the Rebellion, then Robert ups and gives it to Renly. He gave it up, no questions asked, did his duty - no wonder he's pissed off. And wouldn't Davos be a GREAT hand! He's a dude.

Zing (Best Lines)

"Why are all the gods such vicious c***s? Where are the gods of tits and wine?" Tyrion nails it, yet again, while "playing the game" with Varys (a welcome return after a few eps absence).

Bronn: "Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves."
Tyrion: "For questioning?"
Bronn: "No."
Tyrion: "We've talked about this."
Bronn: "It's just the unknown thieves we have to worry about now."
Bronn remains a DUDE. And judging by his description of life under siege - anyone else reckon he may have been in Storm's End back in Stannis' day?!?

Eww, gross (a skin-crawl moment)

Creepy Rapey Guy takes the bacon yet again. Clever Arya did what I wondered about a few weeks' back - gave Jaccin his own name as the third person he would kill for her. "The girl has no honour," he says, only for Arya to shrug. Honour killed her father, what use is it, really? Much more useful to blackmail a killer to help her escape. The sight of those guards hanging dead on the Harrenhal walls as Arya, Gendry and that little fat kid left was delightfully goose-bumpy.

Boo, sucks

No Sansa! I assume she's done what we all did at some stage when we were teenage girls - use the old "But I've got my period!" excuse to get out of Phys Ed. Or in her case, having to see smug Joffrey's smug face smug prick. Ear to ear grin, my arse. Go stick a knife in your eye. I know Arya is the easy-to-pick Stark sister of choice, but damnit if I don't cheerlead big time for Sansa.

Next week! Tywin's on the overnight march to meet Robb; Stannis' wind should set him ashore at the Mud Gate; and something's going to happen north of the wall. George R.R. Martin has written Episode 9, so LET'S SEE SOME CLASHING SKULLS! And please don't let Robb's moment of pleasure mean he's marked for death now... please....

Endorsed by Zookeepers

Do you ever picture in your head what the coolest-looking version of yourself would be?

In my head - and in my dreams - I get around the place like a cross between James Bond and Xena. Effortlessly stylish, but powerful and deadly, like cobra tie. The reality generally involves untucked shirts, tatty scarf-wearing and shoes ill-suited to my bizarrely shaped feet. I am a proponent, it must be said, of "buffoon chic".

Which is why I was more shocked than anyone to see that while playing for Queensland in the 2012 Theatresports National Championships, I may have accidentally combined the Xena/Bond asthetic to look the coolest I will probably ever look in my life.

Note to self: more corsets.

I had the privilege of being one-third of the Queensland team for the competition, and had even lightened my hair to better match Wade and Tom, and fit in with our fascist/steampunk "Team Hindenburg" concept.

The June Dally-Watkins modelling course
I did when I was 14 finally paid off.

The night featured teams from Victoria, New South Wales, Western Australia and the ACT. The performers are all top improvisers, with many of them achieving legend status. It was an absolute joy to share the stage with them; to jump into their scenes when required; and to rely on them to support us - in one scene, literally, when we chose to do a physical challenge where our feet couldn't touch the ground, forcing the others to carry us around the stage!
 
Our very first game was an "I Love You" scene, and the suggestion our gorgeous MC Rebecca de Unamuno received was "giraffe".

Now the Enmore Theatre is fairly big, and there were around 1000 people in the audience. Sometimes in a space that big, your brain just goes a bit blank and you can't think of something sensible or clever to say - if you can say anything at all. That's kind of what happened as Wade and Tom left the stage and I looked out at the lights. I didn't really have anything in my brain, so I launched into my dodgiest giraffe impression. I used the heels of my boots to shape a lope across the stage in that languid, giraffe-y style. I actually really love giraffes, and always like staring at them whenever I visit zoos. So in between lopes, I stopped and gave my lips a big lick, sticking my tongue out as far as I could.

I must have been out on the stage by myself for a minute, not speaking, just... attempting to be a giraffe. The audience seemed to enjoy it; and the scene got more fun when Wade came on as a lion who just wanted to eat the giraffe. After some discussion, we resolved to put the long-running war between giraffes and lions to one side to take on our true enemies, poachers. Wade threw out the brilliant line "But our alliance cannot just be political, it must be sexual," prompting an "I love you" and a big giraffe-y tongue pash. It was a really simple, charming scene.

Lion. Giraffe. Art.

At the end of the night, we were shocked and amazed to be announced the 2012 Champions. It was extraordinary. This sounds like forty-two types of bullcrap but I honestly wasn't expecting it. So I think we were all very chuffed!

Woot!

As we returned to the stage after the show wrapped up to have our photos taken with the Championship Belt, four young women in the middle of the auditorium starting yelling and waving at me. I couldn't hear what they were saying, so I ran down the steps at the front of the stage and up the aisle to meet them. They were all in their 20s or 30s, still carrying drinks, obviously not yet finished their night.

"We all work at Taronga Zoo!" they cried as I reached them. "Your giraffe was SPOT ON!"

It was one of the best compliments I've ever received. Girl Clumsy: Officially Endorsed By Zookeepers.
 
You can see a full gallery of the show at the website of photographer Stephen Reinhardt, and a special thanks to Stephen for letting me use some of his images here. I must also thank the wonderful Impro Australia for all their support, and for putting on a professional and energetic show.

Wade and I returned to Brisbane around lunchtime on Sunday, to prepare for his show Jorogumo at the Brisbane Arts Theatre.

I'm really pleased with how this performance went - based on Japanese monsters and fairytales, I thought it was a wonderful format with shades of light and dark.

Wearin' whiteface and kimonos. That's how we roll.
Thanks to Paul Harris for the picture.

Life is swings and roundabouts though, as I spent much of Monday and Tuesday this week pondering whether I'm actually any good at impro at all. That's not me trying to fish for compliments, it really isn't. I think you're often your worst critic, but in my case, I felt slightly undeserving of the Nationals win, and felt like I should have done bolder work in Jorogumo.

I'm hoping this feeling is a good one though; the day I think I know everything about impro and can't improve is probably the day I should give it up.

Our next big show is on the Gold Coast! That's right, we're doing a one night only Theatresports show at The Arts Centre Gold Coast on Saturday 2 June. If you live near the coast, I highly recommend the show - tickets are only $20 and we'll even bring down the Championship Belt to show off just how good ImproMafia really is!

Raven On: Game of Thrones S2E7 Recap

It's quite obvious I'm about as punctual with this Game of Thrones recap as Lord Walder Frey was at the Battle of the Trident. Blame a busy week in Queensland parliament - or as I now call it, the Green Keep - and an exciting weekend of adventures in stage performance.

I was all set to roll up on the couch and get started watching Episode 8, when my friend Dan played the GUILT CARD and asked how I could possibly do that before doing the recap of Episode 7? I cursed myself for an oathbreaker, then I realised it was more fun to curse Dan, so I cursed him for a bit, then sighed and realised I can't beat the GUILT CARD. So hold onto your hats and duck because here comes another low-flying episode of Raven On!

Episode 7: Waiting for Stannis

This week was another marvellous tumble in the world of character development, but rather slow on the action front. I daresay things are going to ramp up significantly in Episode 8 once the last-surviving Baratheon brother descends on King's Landing like Elvis on a bacon sandwich; and once Xaro starts throwing his weight around Qarth like Elvis on a stage in the late 1970s.

The theme that emerged from this episode for me was that of "traps", both set and sprung.

Theon Greyjoy sets off to re-trap Bran, Rickon, Osha and Hodor, who cleverly snuck out of Winterfell at the end of the last episode. He spends this week taunting poor Maester Luwin, while trailing the boys' scent with his hounds. "It's all just a game," he cheerfully tells the kind old man. A game you're going to LOSE, dork-sniggler.

Beyond the wall, Jon is trying to find his brothers of the Night's Watch, while simultaneously trying to control the stalagmite slowly building in his breeches, courtesy of Ygritte, the wildling/free woman. Doesn't she have the filthiest-sounding accent in the entire show? Even dirtier than Ros (who's M-I-A ever since that 'pounding' from Prince Joffrey).

"Can you stop saying 'bone' for just FIVE minutes?!?!"

After all that trudging and cajoling, Jon was about to go for it (I assume the "pulling out his sword" action was symbolism), when whoops, Ygritte pulls the lead, trips Jon over, and a bunch of other wildlings appear. Trap sprung; I guess Jon will now get to meet Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall. Whether he'll get some frosty booty or not remains to be seen.

In Robb Stark's battle camp, Jaime Lannister is literally trapped in a pen, with a a fine bushy beard to show for a few months' imprisonment. Given a cell mate in the former of his cousin, Alton, he spends a fair amount of time building rapport and confidence - before battering the young bloke's head in with his chains in order to distract the guard and escape. Poor form, but not unexpected. However, killing the guard, the son of Lord Karstark, proved a very bad move, as when the Kingslayer is eventually recaptured, the bannermen start fighting amongst themselves about how quickly they can knock his block off. Lady Catelyn goes to see him, and after a fair bit of taunting, she asks Brienne for her sword. Is she going to kill him - or free him?

In the Red Keep - the ultimate gilded cage - Cersei is educating Sansa about "flowering" into a woman. Sansa's own body has trapped her, betrayed her, as it inevitably would. Curse you, biology! Our favourite little dove was offered some some hard truths about surviving the transition to womanhood, and how best to protect her heart against Joffrey. For me, Cersei has fundamentally become a tragic figure. Again, it's all her own fault, but you can't help but wonder how truly awesome she could've been if only she'd been more like Tyrion, and less like Tywin or Jaime. Speaking of Tyrion, he seems to have definitively pinned down the truth about his twin siblings. Throwing out a last-ditch bait line of "Joffrey is more Robert than Jaime," only to have it shrugged off by Cersei, Tyrion is now fully in charge of the Lannister's future at King's Landing. In a touching moment, he almost reached out to embrace a distraught Cersei. Almost.

Which only leaves the question - does TYWIN know?

So my legacy is one imp and a pair of incestuous in-breeding psychos?

The head lion is still holed up at Harrenhal, having delightful fireside chats with Arya about legends and warriors and the best way to pretend to be low-born. Tywin is trapped by his own need to leave a legacy; Arya by Tywin's protection. Gosh these scenes are enjoyable to watch.

Over in Qarth, Dany is whinging about her dragons. She essentially flips off Xaro's promises to help, only to collapse emotionally near the arms of faithful old Jorah. Speaking of which, The Wah drew my attention to this charming graphic, which sums up poor Jorah's predicament.

Jorah has another meeting with that mysterious face-plated priestess woman, who I'm sure is probably his ex-wife or something. She gets his assurance he won't betray Dany again, then sends him off to the Council of Thirteen just in time to find that Xaro and Creepy Warlock have been in cahoots to steal the dragons and launch a coup. Xaro is now the King of Qarth.

Yay! (Best Moments)

Shae flipping the knife on the other handmaiden after discovering Sansa's menses (Sanses? Mensa?) had set in. Sadly it did no good; the Hound had already sniffed it out. Oh, I just realised what I said.

The appearance of Tyrion just near the end. I hadn't realised I was missing him until he appeared and I mentally yelled "F*** YEAH TYRION WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN HIM BEFORE NOW SERIOUSLY."

Zing! (Best Line)

Tywin: I can't say I've ever met a literate stonemason.
Arya: Have you met many stonemasons, my lord?
Tymin: Careful now.

Jaime (on seeing Brienne): Is that a woman?

Eww, gross (a skin-crawl moment)

"They don't have teeth." - Ygritte. That's Ygritty.

Maester Luwin's fresh take on the grief-stricken "Nooooo" on seeing the burned bodies of two children hanging from the walls of Winterfell. It's fairly obvious they're the poor orphan boys Bran sent to help the farmer a few episodes back, but Maester Luwin's not to know that, and his gutteral reaction was ... well, gut-wrenching.

Boo, sucks (a downside)

Fricking Dan guilting me into doing this before fricking watching fricking Episode 8 fricking frick.

Flames and Ghosts

This weekend, I'll be performing in both Sydney AND Brisbane!

I'm heading to Sydney to be part of the Queensland team for the Theatresports Nationals competition on Saturday 19 May, at the massive Enmore Theatre.

Flanked by teammates Wade and Tom.

Wade initially suggested we name our team "Titanic", in honour of Queensland's "living treasure", Clive Palmer (if you hadn't heard, he plans to build a replica Titanic). I replied that perhaps it wasn't the best plan to name ourselves after one of history's most infamous disasters, it'd be like calling ourselves "Team Hindenburg".

"TEAM HINDENBURG! YES!" was the unanimous reply from Wade and Tom. So now we're named after an airship that went down in flames. It's such an obvious metaphor, surely we can't actually lose? Our costume theme has somehow morphed into slightly-fascist-steampunk, so at the very least we're going to damn well be the best dressed team on the night. Or else.

The Nationals is always an amazing show; super high energy and bucketloads of fun. If you're keen, you can book a last minute special ticket deal through the booking page here.


Wade and I then fly back on Sunday morning in time for ImproMafia's Sunday night show - Jorogumo: The Spider Woman.

Inspired by Japanese lore, fairytales and horror stories, this is going to be a fascinating night of improvisation. There'll be fox maidens and samurai and geishas and tragic love stories and demons and monsters and magic and all sorts of fun things. ImproMafia maintains playfulness and comedy in all our performances, because we always want our audience to come away with their funnybone tickled. But this show promises to have moments of light and shadow, and I think that will really delight patrons.

So if you're in Brisbane on Sunday 20 May, head up to the Brisbane Arts Theatre on Petrie Terrace. The show starts at 7:30pm, and tickets are only $12 at the door. You can also book tickets online.

As always, I'm incredibly grateful for all the support my creative endeavours receive; I hope to see you at a show!

Raven On: Game of Thrones S2E6 recap

With all these noble houses and sigils, and lords and ladies indulging their petty squabbles, and political intrigues turning to outright bloody battle - you could be forgiven for forgetting Westeros even has a civilian population. Our occasional reminders are the unfortunate recruits at Castle Black and prisoners at Harrenhal; and the wounded soldiers, tended to by healers like Lady Talisa.

But finally it seems the Andal Spring may have hit Westeros - at least at King's Landing. So batten down the hatches, unleash the dogs of war (or should that be Hounds?) and get ready for another episode of Raven On!

I should remind you that if you read on from this point, you will come across MASSIVE SPOILERS.

Episode 6. Singing the Song of Angry Men

By the old Gods, Theon Greyjoy is a cock-snaggling douche crevasse. Sauntering into Winterfell with his saliferous sea-dog sidekicks and demanding Bran Stark yield control of the place. Sweet little thing, he was so brave, but ultimately acted to protect his people, even if they were happy to call Theon out as a scum-sucking piece of arse biscuit.

Mind you, you have to give Greyjoy props for moving quickly. I mean, just last week he was boarding the Sea Bitch with a ragtag bunch of salty misfits - now he's captured Torrhen's Square, then sailed on to Winterfell without so much as a stop for a quick shag.

I've got to dip my hat to Alfie Allen, who plays Theon. He's probably second only to Joffrey now as the lord you love to hate. The expression in his face after his execution of Ser Rodrik went utterly, terribly wrong was amazing. He beautifully conveyed Theon's recognition that in that moment, he crossed a line. If he'd let Ser Rodrik live, there may have been a chance to reconcile with Robb, or at the very least, be exiled back to the Iron Islands or scoot up to The Wall.  But now, some part of him - a part he's already blusteringly pretending to ignore - knows he's doomed to be Robb Stark's next mantlepiece favour.

After last week's shocking lack of any nudity, Osha got her baps out for Winterfell and proved she's quite the resourceful friend to Bran and Rickon. I can't wait for their adventures on the run.

I found this image via Regretsy, of all places. Kudos.
I'm going to have to consider a Hodor-kini myself next summer.

Speaking of temptresses, Jon Snow finds himself in a chilly conundrum up beyond the wall. Separated from his brothers-in-black after failing to kill a captured female wildling, he finds himself both chasing after her, and cuddling up to her. Jon's inherited a fair bit of the Stark sense of honour, but can he resist the red-haired chick's saucy spooning forever?

Over in Qarth, Danerys is looking smoking hot in her intricately-wrought golden armour, so much so that I *really* want to lose 20 kilos, dye my hair and take up cos-playing. I can't decide if Emilia Clarke, who plays Dany, is a really *good* actor, who captures the Khaleesi's occasional bursts of childishness well ("Give me my ships! Now!"), or if her portrayal is just a bit two-dimensional. Either way, the Spice King isn't interested in her cause, she won't marry Zaro, and now someone's taken her dragons. I can only assume it's one of the warlocks, as that stone tower seen at the very end of the episode did look like it could be their hideout, the House of the Undying.

There was some absolutely gorgeous character interplay between Tywin and Arya at Harrenhal this week. I particularly enjoyed the revelation of Jaime Lannister's dyslexia, and Tywin's father almost ruining the family name. They gave such an insight into Tywin's hard-bitten nature. Here is a man who does not tolerate weakness, and yet he is not wholly unkind, as evidenced by his growing fondness for his little cup-bearer.

Robb Stark spent some time cracking onto Lady Talisa, before cracking up at news from Winterfell. "I told you never to trust a Greyjoy!" cried Catelyn. I thought Robb could've been justified in throwing back a "Well, you trusted Littlefinger, so shut up," but it wouldn't be a kingly thing to do. Oooh, Robb. Let me comb your hair and polish your amour... I mean, armour...

But the BIG explosive event this week was the riot in King's Landing. The peasants are revolting! Ah, that joke never gets old. Suddenly and brutally, Joffrey got a karmic kickdown.

It was also great to see the Hound joining in on the comeuppance delivery. "I want them executed!" cries Joffrey. "They want the same for you," growls back Sandor Clegane. And I knew he'd be the one who'd rescue Sansa from marauders. "You're safe now, little bird." There's more to the relationship between those two.

Yay! (Best Moments)

This.

Watch it again, go on.

ANGRY LORD TAKING IT IN THE NECK WITH A POISON DART. So, so good. While Creepy Rapey Guy is still a bit creepy, and still a bit rapey, I'm beginning to develop a certain affection for him. But Arya better choose her third victim carefully. I wonder what would happen if she chose him? Would he top himself? I doubt it, but there didn't seem to be any obvious clause precluding him from the picking.

Zing! (Best Line)

As Cersei bade farewell to her little daughter Myrcella, she told Tyrion that she hoped he would know the feeling of true love for someone, then pledged to take that person away from him. OUCH. Watch out Shae.

Eww, gross (a skin-crawl moment)

Apart from Ser Rodrik's beheading? Well, there was Littlefinger's appearance at Harrenhal, and he's always creepy. Plus the sight of all those dead Dothraki guards in Qarth was pretty horrid.

Boo, sucks (a downside)

Still no Stannis. I guess he's still sailing, and that battle is up next week. Until then, my Westerosi chums!

The Tyranny of Long Hair

Vidal Sassoon died this week, and it made me think of practical hair cuts.

I didn't realise Vidal was credited for inventing "wash-and-wear" hair styles - the idea that you don't need to subject your locks to hours of primping, perming, pinning and shellacking, just comb it and go. Vidal supposedly set us free from oppressive hair.

But I would argue that many women still labour unnecessarily with their locks - because fashion remains in favour of long hair for women. And I would like to start a movement encouraging women who are living with long hair - but, importantly, not doing anything with it - to lop it off, and try life with lighter, shorter tresses.

I've always had tricky hair - thick and bothersome. As a girl, it was blonde and straight. Pubescent hormones saw it grow thicker and darker, and a 1993 haircut saw the surprise appearance of tight curls, and led to me being dubbed "Afro" for a year at school. I worked with the curls as best I could until my late teens, when I decided to try to grow it long and luxurious. I imagined all the beautiful ornate hairstyles I would wear - the cute high ponytails, the braids, the chignons.

What I ended up with was this:

This is me on my 21st birthday, with a ratty, poorly-cut, badly-coloured, brassed-out curtain of hair. You can see the curl from my teens still in there - a curl that disappeared somewhere in my mid-twenties, along with my cheekbones. But you can also get a sense of how thick and heavy my hair is - it pulls down so much the top half is virtually straight.

I couldn't bear to put it in a high ponytail: the super-tight hairband would give me a headache. Wearing it out was annoying in the wind or the heat. So I would end up pulling it back in a low ponytail at the nape of my neck. It looked boring. It was boring.

It was also a pain in the arse to manage. Every wash was torture, as I combed out the knots that would build as I slept. Complicated hairdos were virtually impossible - no amount of bobby pins would hold those suckers up.

Eventually I realised I would never achieve the beautiful tresses I admired in magazines. I had the hair, but without the money or patience - what was the point?

Around a year after the above picture was taken, I went to an expensive hairdresser and had much of it lopped off. Throughout the 2000s, I went shorter and shorter. Before our big world trip in 2006, I got an ill-advised pixie cut, and while it was good for travelling, I realised my hair is too thick and puffy and my face too round for it to work well.

And so now I've found the general length and style that seems to work - and you know what? It's great. On rare occasions, I wonder if I could grow it again. I have more money and better hair care products now than I did at 21 - perhaps it would be a different story? But then I think... oh, I can't be bothered. I am lazy. And I don't want my head to be weighed down all the time.

Lovely photo taken by Heath C, who wanted a guinea pig for his new lighting rig.
Being a camera 'ho, I happily obliged. You can see more of Heath's work here.

I know many women who keep long hair because of what I consider to be slightly dodgy reasons, and I'd like to offer some simple rebuttal arguments, to see if my position does in fact have any credibility.

1) It's feminine.

Answer: it's one idea of femininity. Not the only one. If you're worried about not looking enough like what you think a woman should look like, may I suggest a push-up bra and some red lipstick?

2) It's fashionable.

It's hard to deny Hollywood and the fashion and music industries tends to prefer long-hair in their ladies. But remember, these women have stylists, and money, and helpers, and money, and time, and money. Their hair becomes part of their job. But even they resort to help - Beyonce and Lady Gaga love a wig. And also, long hair seems to be a de facto term for "beautiful". She must be pretty, she has long hair. Think Kardashian for a moment. Take away the long hair, and what have they got? Weird teeth, that's what.

3) I'm getting married.

Apparently long hair works better for "up dos", which are apparently better for weddings and wedding photos. I'm not sure why this attitude still exists, but then I know very little about weddings in general. If this is your preference, I don't see why a hairpiece or hair extensions couldn't work just as well - they might be slightly more expensive, but then, it's a wedding. They cost money. Just ditch an unwanted guest or two, or forego a band for a karaoke machine. I'm an ideas woman.

4) I like it.

And that is entirely fair enough. I'm not trying to hassle people for their appearance. I really believe you can do whatever the hell you want with your body. But my argument is aimed at women who have long hair, but don't do anything with it. Maybe it's a hassle, maybe they just don't have time, and always end up tying it up, or back. I know one woman who keeps it long because she sweats around her hairline. She thinks short hair would make her sweat more. But I always think of her as a short-haired woman precisely because she always wears her hair tightly pulled back in a bun. I've never seen it out. So what's the point? Chop it off, get a crop, rock it. You'll be sweat-free, you'll get time back, you can get out of the shower, rub on some pomade and go.

Long hair is a tyranny. It's time we realised it, and started freeing ourselves. Use it or lose it. It won't be the end of the world.

Scissors semper tyrannus!

Four Legs Good

It's nice when a fairly selfish desire turns out to produce quite a happy day for many people.

Video by animal and heavy metal lover Andrew Saltmarsh.
You can read his take on the day here.

I received so many thank-yous from people today, that you'd think I'd have done something impressive. But all I did was book a baby animal farm... so I could play with baby animals for a few hours. As we set up the enclosure this morning, and I sat on the grass with goats clamouring over me, I called out to The Wah, entreating him to come in and play.

"Someone has to take charge out here. You've already lost all cognitive function."

And he was right. They had me at "Here are the piglets."

You complete me.

I think it was the enthusiasm with which others embraced the idea of the Baby Animal Farm that made it something truly impressive. By the time the petting zoo officially opened at 10:30 Saturday morning, there was already a decent gathering of 15 or so. That swelled over the following hour; at its peak, I reckon around 100 people were milling around Hardgrave Park, enjoying the picture perfect autumn sunshine, the sausages and cupcakes, and of course, the calm and happy animals.

It was lovely to welcome the RSPCA Qld community outreach volunteers on site as well, selling fundraising merch and raising awareness about their excellent Adopt-a-Pet program.  This was enhanced in no small way by the addition of two beautiful Irish Wolfhound puppies, both up for adoption.

I'd say I knew or recognised perhaps half of all the people who attended; a testament, I think, to the power of a charming idea and social media. It wasn't so much a case of the Horse Whisperer, as the Hey-There's-Two-Shetland-Ponies Shouterer.

But whether I knew them or not, it was the surprising sweetness of a communal affair that proved the most satisfying. A whole lot of people just chilling out and having a nice time doing something a little different. Something that just happened to turn the cuteness right up to 11.

Which one of these creatures is not acting the goat?

The money aspect was icing on the cake. You might remember from my original post that I spent the $700 required to hire the petting zoo, hoping to recoup costs through a "Choose Your Own" donation strategy. With general donation entries, plus $2 a pop Shetland pony rides and $1 cups of feed - I wound up making $400 profit. All of that will go to charity; I'm planning $200 each to RSPCA Qld and Best Friends Rescue.

I'm starting to get reports about just how generous some people were, and it's enough to make one come over all heart-bursty. I am very, very grateful to you all.

Props.

I mentioned above how the real success of the day was its true community feel, and that was due to recruiting eager local small businesses, non-profits, charities and volunteers.

I can highly recommend Brisbane Pony Parties if anyone else in South-East Queensland is looking to hold their own animal farm. Sandra was professional, helpful, fun and incredibly generous with her animals. You could tell the critters are well looked after, and their behaviour was delightful. I dubbed one of the piglets "Hyper Piggie" due to his exuberance in the paddock, and the only roughness I saw were a few sly kicks aimed at him by Missy the month-old calf.

A bunch of dedicated Brisbane Arts Theatre members ran the tasty sausage sizzle. There are some great productions on at the theatre at moment: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, as well as Pinocchio for children. Coming up in June is the hugely popular comedy musical Avenue Q. The BAT gets no government or corporate support, so when you buy a ticket and see a show there, you truly are supporting a community organisation that gives creative people space to perform and develop skills.

RSPCA Qld has been great to me during this whole adventure; and again, I would urge anyone looking to get a pet to consider adoption. Thanks to their community outreach volunteers for sharing their time - and their puppies! - with us.

Greg and Dan - aka science podcasters from Smart Enough to Know Better - came up early with me to help set up, and along with the delightful Simm and Sarah, did the bulk of the collections work. A number of others took turns holding the fort so others could play/leave. Thanks to you all.

Kate Rohde rose to my challenge to bake cupcakes for the event admirably. Kate's developing her own small boutique cake business, and her delicious wares quickly sold out. Congratulations, Kate.

Thanks must go to my electrician, who's been waiting on the $700 I owe him for installing new lights for a few weeks now. Turns out I found another use for it; and I didn't feel too bad because you know you messed me around a bit (that's a whole other post right there). The good news is, I recouped the cash! So you'll get your pound of flesh next week, freshly laundered through the goodwill of punters and goodwool of animals.

Most importantly, I'd like to thank EVERYONE who took some time out and came along, and who were so brilliant in spreading the word. Your enthusiasm and kindness means a whimsically foolish idea I had turned out to bring more smiles to my face than I could have imagined; and even better, a bit of extra dosh for animal welfare groups, a very good cause indeed. 

Finally, it would be remiss of me to not credit that person who mistakenly sent me that email with quotes for a baby animal farm. That one action set in motion a chain of somewhat fantastical decisions that resulted in today's amazing experience. Most unwanted emails are spam... this one actually proved to be real ham.

The Avengers 2: Still Avenging After All These Years

My friend Dan caused a bit of Twitter scandal ("twandal"?) this week by issuing the following statement:

Dan's was the first kind-of-negative take on The Avengers I'd seen, and at first I thought he may have been stirring. Dan often likes to be a figure of controversy. His optional use of "pants" in our improvised stage shows once savagely divided audiences.

Even I thought The Avengers ticked all the boxes, and I'm one of the seven geeks left on Planet Earth who doesn't slavishly salivate over everything Joss Whedon does. My primary objection was that Thor didn't appear shirtless once. Frankly that was a massive oversight. They managed to shoot several minutes of Scarlett Johannson, from behind, in an ass-caressing catsuit - but Chris Hemsworth did all those sit-ups for nothing.

By thunder.

But Dan's entitled to his opinion, and maybe he has a point. Maybe there wasn't enough "story". So I've decided to pitch my mad screen-writing skillz against His Jossness', and pack more punch, but less "punch", into an Avengers story.

Here is my "treatment" for the inevitable The Avengers 2: Reassemble.

I don't think I'm really giving anything away about the movie here, but I should issue a SPOILER WARNING just in case.

"Guys, has anyone seen Hawkeye?"

The movie opens with Tony Stark facing a congressional hearing on his Arc Light power generation system. The US government has been unable to shut down the billionaire engineering genius through a series of punishing IRS audits, and so is trying to co-opt the technology through a show of public shaming, in the name of the national interest.

Stark's usual good humour is on display as he whips out the portable Iron Man suit, plays AC/DC to accompany a dramatic, jet-blasty exit, then quips "So much for Mr Stark Goes to Washington" to Pepper Potts, who promptly slaps him in the junk.

But the confrontation puts him on a collision course with a friend; for, like another famous American who worked in showbiz during World War Two, Captain America has finally accepted his destiny as a Republican presidential candidate. His campaign suffered a slight setback when a printing error saw the comma left off posters featuring his catchphrase "Rogers, Everyone!", but he's still polling better than Newt Gingrich.

Hawkeye is particularly peeved about this development, as having survived Loki's spooky trance, thought he'd never again have to share the same room with someone who wanted to bend his will to their own. It's lucky he has Olympic selection trials coming up to distract him. Not in archery, that would be too easy. He's prepping for fencing.

Luckily, S.H.I.E.L.D's Asgardian contractor is ready to mediate the group dynamic. Now host of the MSNBC discussion program "Thor Spot", everyone's famous demi-god challenges the Avengers group to appear live on prime-time TV to wrestle shirtless thrash out their differences.

Unfortunately Bruce Banner can't make it, as he's dealing with a diagnosis of inoperable bowel cancer. It's not the cancer itself that's inoperable, it's just every time doctors attempt surgery, the Hulk explodes into action and crushes the skull of the nearest medico. The colonoscopy alone levelled a city.

"I guess you could call that a colonic irritation."

The shirtless wrestling debate doesn't go well, as Thor labels Stark an obstructive egomaniac, Stark challenges Captain America's war service record, and Rogers threatens to tighten immigration laws to prevent more invasion by bifrost.

Nick Fury declares enough is enough, and once again shuts down the Avengers initiative, telling the heroes he's lost faith in all of them. Natasha Romanov decides regaining some faith is precisely what she needs to help reduce the guilt she feels in having murdered so many people. She feels this guilt because she is a woman character; male characters don't have to worry about such trivial matters when there are shirts to remove bad guys to punish.

The Black Widow journeys to the wilds of Tibet, where she spends days meditating and trying to achieve inner peace, and nights kicking ass for cash as part of the Shaolin Monks show.

But then she learns about a mysterious plague sweeping the continent, leaving whole cities crumbling out of civilisation. It turns out a former Roman emperor, Dayus Massheena, has risen from the dead, and is using a combined supernatural army of Christians AND lions to raze factories producing high-end electronics and other luxury items for the American market.

Ditching her comfy gi pants for that catsuit once more, Romanov calls up the others one-by-one, begging them to join her in the wilderness of remote south-western China (population only 300 million). Stark and Rogers cannot refuse the call to help save capitalist enterprise; and Thor hopes to pick up a few cheap iPhones with universal roaming. Hawkeye had some frequent flyer points.

They all show up at the monastic fortress at the same time, which proves VERY awkward. But it's all part of Natasha's plan - by getting them to just flick their shirts on the couch and flex knock heads, she makes them realise the world needs them to work as a team.

Meanwhile a depressed Dr Banner fears his friends will face more danger without him there to "help".  But he's struggling with radiation treatment, which just doesn't seem to take. In a climactic scene, his rage at his disease overcomes him, and the Hulk is released. After smashing several burns ward victims onto the streets of New York, the Big Guy shoves his fist down his throat and punches the tumour out of his own bowel. The whole incident is declared a medical marvel and documented in The Lancet.

The Avengers assemble on a field outside the ancient temple of Ho Lee Chit, where Natasha offers up a prayer for assistance. But oh no! Dayus Massheena has summoned an army of terracotta warriors to take them on.

Battle commences, and it's a brutal affair. A massed army of felines, God-botherers and rejected pot plant holders is a challenging enemy. Natasha's gun runs out of bullets, but she realises the faith she needed came not from religion, but the sharp martial arts techniques of the Shaolin Monks. Rogers, knowing a victory will mean generous campaign donations, drives the team forward, cutting through the ranks of the warriors. Stark fires up Pat Benatar and gets stuck in with his lasers, burning up the enemy like popcorn in a kiln. Thor takes his shirt off and ripples waves of energy with his hammer or something. Whatever, the second unit director and SFX people can just fill in the gaps here.

Eventually it's Hawkeye who manages to foil Dayus Massheena - literally stabbing him in the eye with his fencing sword. With that, the supernatural soldiers revert to mere statue form.

The Avengers are all patting themselves on the back when the Hulk shows up. Full of rage at missing the smashing, the Big Guy crushes the inanimate remains of the army. "Puny statues," he mutters. Everyone laughs, because they're too scared not too, even though it's not really a very good witticism. The Hulk knows they're just pandering to him, and is about to get even more furious, when Natasha gives him a kiss, because she's the only girl there, and it seems like that might be nice. With that, Dr Banner's human form re-emerges, and the Avengers all re-assemble and take their shirts off go to Baskin Robbins to celebrate. Over the credits, we see Banner being served the mint ice-cream and everyone laughing.

It's a happy ending - but Rogers still has a campaign to run, Stark can't keep getting away with pissing off the government, Thor has ratings to maintain and Hawkeye needs to win the gold. There are all the classic hallmarks of yet another sequel.

Oh wait... I forgot to kill someone off. You always need someone to die. Umm, let's see. OK - Pepper Potts. Maybe not dies. But she falls into a mysterious coma around 40 minutes in, and Dayus Masshena has the formula to save her, and Iron Man gets it off him during the battle, then they give it to Pepper in the form of a new Baskin Robbins flavour, and she wakes up, and Iron Man says "Watch out, she'll be STARK RAVING MAD!" and Pepper slugs him in the penis.

The End.

Raven On: Game of Thrones S2E5 Recap

Raise the banners, get your weapons of mass destruction ready and swear fealty to whichever King looks nicer in his battle armour - it's time for another edition of Raven On, the world's 134,567th best Game of Thrones recap series!

Before we start, I thought I'd share this fantastic map of Westeros that I found online. Really helps me as a touchstone whenever I start getting confused about where cities, castles, waterways and other landmarks are in relation to each other.

Now, as per usual, reading beyond this point entails discovering MASSIVE SPOILERS.