Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


2 p.m. update.

The whole thing has gone on for well over two years, after the 'blackest day in Australian sport' circus, starring a cast of glowering bureaucrats, politicians and sports administrators.

During the two years, the letter writers just didn't go away, like those 4 a.m. mosquitoes you'd like to swat but can't make yourself wakeful enough to do so.

Not to mention the social media twits.

'I have torn up my ticket,' they proclaimed. 'I no longer wish to be associated nor identified with such an organisation.' Pomposity meets verbosity.

'I will never attend another game. Nor will my children.' A bit harsh. What if they were to change their mind?

'I do not want my children exposed to such a culture.'

'I am no longer a follower.'

'I have written to the board expressing my dismay.'
What, as well as a letter to the editor? Some people had nothing better to do than sit around the house writing sanctimonious letters to newspapers about the Essendon Football Club.

Hundreds of them. All written with pens dripping pious ink. That's metaphoric, of course. Nobody uses pens any more.

Then there was another letter. Its author wrote that he was a pensioner in his seventies and hoped the other letter writers would be true to their word. If you're going to tear your ticket up, he suggested, make sure you do tear the bloody thing up. Don't change your mind. Wouldn't want to bump into you at a game.
The expression he used was 'thick and thin' but that might as well have meant sausages to the twits.

The next day, someone called Steve wrote that the pensioner would be the kind of person he would want to be with in the trenches. Someone with a bit of spine.

Thick and thin.


Today's letter of the day:
I'm looking forward to Tuesday's guilty verdict in the Essendon drug saga. Signed: Magpie Marcus.
Magpie Marcus probably wishes he had waited 24 hours before submitting his letter.

(Image courtesy Herald Sun.)

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