December 1 has descended upon us with swift wings once again… it’s summer (“farken sick mate crack us open a tinny would ya love” etc)!

Not sure about you lot, but I’ve been getting myself ready to get all amongst the summer spirit. I’ve gone and got myself one of those ridiculous flimsy little one-piece playsuits designed to make it look like I’m hiding a couple of jelly puddings where my ass cheeks are supposed to be. There isn’t enough Hollywood tape in the world to keep this thing sitting over my boobs for more than 5 seconds and heaven forbid I should even try to dance at any festivals in this pathetic excuse for a playsuit. Playsuit? More like, “stand very still and don’t wear it in wind”- suit.

Why the hell do I persist with these frivolous fashion whimsies? We all know very well that when summer festivals roll around I’ll be very firmly in some comfortable shorts, singlet and sneakers and ready for shenanigans. When I look back at photos of myself and my friends out at festivals, gigs and clubbing, we all look smoking, yet very sensibly dressed for comfortably dancing the night away. No broken ankles in my crew!

Lately the streets of Perth have been echoing with hushed grizzles about how freaking freezing it is. These playsuits are giving the girls pneumonia as they huddle into brick walls for warmth outside the clubs. Nobody could wait for summer! So, we finally got some scorchers and those hushed grizzles turned into loud irate moans about the heat – and just as we started getting really sick of the sweats, we have now reverted back to the chilly weather!
What the heckers is this nonsense!? It seems like when it comes to Perth, the weather is damned if it does and damned if it doesn’t.
Bring on a balmy 28 degrees for all the sublime garden parties heading our way, I say!