Thursday, 20 October 2016

Electile Dysfunction: A 'Trump VS Clinton' Voter’s Guide

'U.S election 2016'.  Or as it’s also known; 'the weirdest custody battle in world history'.  Where two crappy parents are fighting for custody of a fat child that doesn’t want to live with either of them.  I’m not going to take either side but I will say this, I know at least four people who are talking about the dangers of choosing Trump, yet I know for a fact that even after seeing the TV commercials, those four people opted to go with Coles insurance as their main insurance provider.  I say this because I think it’s important to establish where some people’s decision making abilities are at.  This year’s presidential election has basically been like watching a season of ‘X Factor’ in reverse; we started out with a pool of talent but ended-up with some unfavourable competitors whose families gave them an unwarranted amount of self-confidence.  So given that, here’s a pre-election voter's guide to take with you into the polling booth… or at the very least, into the toilet cubicle at work when you need reading material.

Longest. Cinematic run. Ever.

First things first; we need to stop expecting someone sane and normal to be elected U.S president.  Here’s why (and this goes for both candidates)  the job of U.S president pays $500,000 a year. Hillary’s already spent almost $1 billion on her campaign and Donald’s spent almost $500 million trying to get the job.  Now to put that into perspective, if you were going to a job interview for a managerial position at McDonald’s that paid $50,000 a year, but to get it you had to spend $100 million trying to persuade the interviewer to give you the job, how quickly would you be folding the application form into a paper plane instead of submitting it?  And on the off chance that you were still considering applying for the job, I can assure you that your family would already be fitting you for a "special jacket", throwing out all the metal cutlery in the house and padding your room.  When you understand that, you understand Hillary’s fashion sense and Donald’s hairstyle.

The U.S Presidency - when you're even too crazy for certain lines at Centrelink.


Secondly  dear ‘Murica, no offence and I know you might not want to admit it, but Trump pretty accurately represents the majority of you.  He’s the selfie you take without make-up and decide not to post on social media.  Hillary’s just the selfie you take after you let Maybelline special forces perform a bombing campaign on your face and then put it through several Instagram filters before posting to social media.

Thirdly, voters need to decide what they’d prefer; a president they like or a president they can trust?  Sure Trump’s been accused of doing things that are inappropriate but Clinton’s been subpoenaed for doing things that are illegal.  It’s like this; metaphorically speaking in a social scenario, Clinton’s the person that urinates in public while Trump’s the person that uses the public bathroom but doesn’t wash their hands.  As distasteful as both of them are, one’s getting arrested and the other’s just getting a fist bump instead of a handshake when you greet them for dinner.  In a local context for my Australian readers  by ignoring the actions of Clinton and only focusing on the comments of Trump, essentially you’re suggesting that you’d rather be alone in a room with Ivan Milat than Nick Kyrgios.  Yes, both are pretty shitty individuals, but you’d still have to admit that one is distinctly more shitty than the other.

Mary Anne reminds us that not all heroes wear capes.

The real difficulty in making a decision between the two lies in the fact that he’s seen as a buffoon and she’s seen as evil.  And anyone that’s on the fence about whether Hillary’s evil should go watch the interview where she’s laughing like a sociopath in heat about how she helped orchestrate the killing of Gaddafi.  Regardless of your stance on Gaddafi, I point this out because if your mum cackled that hard after killing a spider in your kitchen, you’d have her committed before you considered getting her elected.  The other problem is that good decision-making is a massive part of the presidential gig, and it’s kind of hard to have faith in the decision-making ability of someone who not only married Bill Clinton but also stayed married to Bill Clinton.  With that in mind, women shouldn’t assume that just because Hillary’s a woman, she'll be better for women either. If anything, that could be worse because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from hearing women gossip over the years, it's that some of the biggest grievances women have, are in fact with other women! She'll probably want to invade North Korea just because she thinks their leader's name 'Kim' is short for 'Kimberley'.

For when your march into battle begins on a catwalk.

The other problem is that the whole situation's so confusing. On one hand, Trump’s being accused of indiscretions without evidence and it’s being presented as fact.  On the other hand, Hillary isn’t being charged with crimes despite the fact there’s evidence.  That being said, Donald’s been accused of inappropriate behaviour towards women while Hillary’s been involved in discrediting women who make such accusations.  Looking at it objectively, if they weren’t rivals it could be a great common ground for them to find and might even be a presidential and vice-presidential match made in heaven!  That’s obviously not going to happen so perhaps the solution is that there be no election.  The third debate should just be the decider.  And it shouldn’t be a debate, it should be a rap battle.  If both candidates are going to keep berating each other and trying to discredit one another, it should at least have to rhyme.  If it’s done to a beat and a melody, it’s not slander!  *Don’t quote me on that.

Alternatively, seeing as I already compared this to essentially a job that two individuals are applying for and given that the American public are the ones hiring their boss, it seems only fair that we weigh-up the two applicants based on a number of criteria and questions that I’ve put together, which one might be judged against on the most basic of job application forms.

So here’s the thing ‘Murica, it’s time to face facts.  The facts are, of the last three presidents you’ve elected, the first cheated on his wife literally while inside the White House, the second started a war abroad in a quest to look for weapons that didn’t exist and the most recent got a Nobel Peace Prize while he had your country involved in two wars simultaneously and was spending hundreds of billions of dollars on defence.  The characters in ‘Sex & the City’ have a less volatile history with men, and at least they had a chance of ending-up with Mr. Big.

There are a lot of us who have relatives that were made refugees because of the presidents you've selected and the fact that you're generally so pro-war would be tolerable, if only you'd agree to host one at your place for once.

Most departing U.S presidents'resumes read like a 'How-to Guide' for how to make foreign people hate you.

Therefore maybe the issue then isn’t who you’ll elect president, maybe it’s that you shouldn’t be allowed to elect your president.  Like when your dysfunctional friend Karen keeps dating a string of losers and you decide to take over control of her love life and set her up with a nice guy from your office… who’s possibly more interested in weekend antiquing than foreign invasion.  Someone who’s not going to hide their emails from you and someone who’s going to grab your hand rather than grabbing your… "pet cat".  Well that’s what I think you need to let the rest of the world do for you from now on.  Maybe that way we can finally help find you someone who's going to stop trying to make a move on the rest of us and is instead just genuinely into “YOU…..S.A.”

So if it's okay with you, I'd like to give your number to two people I think you'll be really happy with. Here they are...

They're really great guys.

** For more info, updates and photos, follow me on Twitter & Instagram **

Wednesday, 5 October 2016

Tall Story: The Biography (Part 3)


  • Start using ‘Twitter’.  It reminds me of Facebook with a word limit or a friend that stops you when you’ve said too much.  Am pleased to see hashtags getting some long overdue recognition.

  • Become a presenter for the Seven Network.  Another audition that takes place in front of a lotto machine.  I come to the conclusion that ‘Tattslotto’ clearly brings me better luck than ‘Keno’.

  • I travel overseas through Europe visiting countries including Turkey, Hungary and Greece.  For this reason, when talking about my travel, it sounds like I’m just talking about cooking and food. *Fans of dad jokes will get this gag and appreciate its brilliance.

  • Create the blog ‘The Daily Male’.  A place for me to share funny articles and stories that I create.  The name is a play on words that I only later realise will also be used by an Instagram account that posts photos of gay males… daily.  *Insert 'awkward teethy emoji face' here.

  • Start using ‘Instagram’.  Reminds me that holiday photos, like Frankston tap water, are much better through a filter.  The hashtags continue their world domination.  Can’t help but feel for the asterisk, which has failed to make the same leap from phone keypad to pop-culture.

The top-middle photo is me presenting the lotto on the Seven Network and making someone rich.  The rest of the photos are me travelling the world and sending myself broke.  Both brilliant fun though.


  • Buy and move into my first home.  Some call it a sign of growing-up.  I call it all the joy of moving into the most expensive cubby house I’ll ever buy, combined with the discovery that I’m now a part-time unpaid cleaner.  The house is also immediately behind my parents’ block.  There’s not a speedometer big enough to measure how quickly I cut a hole between the adjoining fences and establish an ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ dynamic.

  • Melbourne Victory FC asks me to be their official ground-announcer.  It means I can combine a couple of my true loves; working on camera and sports.  No Victoria’s Secret Angels agree to come on board as co-hosts to help me complete a trifecta.

Left; Jumping for joy after purchasing my first home.  My back is turned away from it and I can't see how much renovation work needs to be done, hence the joy.  Right; Around the ground and behind the microphone for the mighty Melbourne Victory.


  • During a routine visit to my travel agent for a check-up, I discover a large European flight and am told that it’s Terminal… number 3 that I’ll be departing from at Tullamarine airport.  I’m told I have 2 months to travel.  I don’t seek a second opinion.

  • In a half-court shoot-out against NBA legend, Vlade Divac, I beat Vlade with a behind the back shot.  It’s a weird moment beating one of your heroes in anything.  Like someone beating Roger Federer in a tennis final or someone else knocking out Mike Tyson in a boxing match.  Unlike those two guys, Vlade neither cries nor bites part of my ear off.

  • I become an uncle for the first time and hopefully not the last.  He’s called ‘Aleks’ and he’s already infinitely more mature at his age than I am at my age.  I get to play with him, tire him out and then give him back to his parents so he can wake them up throughout the night.  It’s like a “parenting test drive” really.

  • Get a part in a movie called ‘Bićemo Prvaci Sveta’ (We’ll Be World Champions) while in Serbia.  It means I get to claim my trip on tax and get paid to perform, play basketball and meet incredibly talented people.  I’m pretty much a Serbian version of Michael Jordan in the movie ‘Space Jam’.

  • After returning to Australia, I write an article about my adventure entitled 'All Aboard the Balkan Express!  10 Reasons to Set off on a Serbian Adventure!' and it becomes a viral hit.  It leads to some great accolades, including being named one of the ‘Top 20 Serbs of 2014’ by Serbian media, alongside faces such as Novak Djoković and Marina Abramović.  It also pleases me that this is the only viral thing I bring back with me after months of travel through Eastern Europe.

The article in question and a couple of articles about the article in question.  Also some stills from my feature film debut in 'We'll Be World Champions'.


  • The year starts with me getting the gig as a presenter at the Asian Cup 2015.  I can now include on my resume that I can comfortably and correctly pronounce over 25 Uzbekistani names in under a minute and that I’ve been 50% of an interview with Mel McLaughlin without her coming out of it uncomfortable and without me coming out of it with a $10,000 fine.  Stefan Popovic – 1, Chris Gayle – 0.

  • While a part of the Seven Network’s ‘Good Friday Appeal’ coverage, I get to meet Agro.  This might not seem noteworthy to some of you, but there was a generation of us for whom Ranger Stacey was our ‘first lady’, Plucka Duck was a household name and Agro was a funnier puppet/muppet than any of today’s AFL footballers.  For me it’s like meeting a Sesame Street muppet that’s gone on a Gap Year to Australia.

  • After several months of research and writing, I complete my first screenplay.  The mission then begins to get it made into a film while at the same time keeping the subject matter secret.  It’s 275 pages long and is one of my proudest moments when I finally finish it.  I ask my parents if they’d like to read it but they say it’s too long and are happy to wait until the movie is released.  It’s a fine line between being concerned about their disinterest and being flattered by their confidence in the project and the script’s potential.

  • I buy a new bicycle.  My dad buys a new motorcycle.  In doing so, we come to an unspoken mutual understanding that he is infinitely cooler than me.

  • My website goes live.  It’s like final step on the evolutionary chart of social media.  I kind of wish that Drake is around to rap something along the lines of “Started off with MySpace now we’re here”.  He isn’t, so I take the opportunity to do it for myself.

Left; meeting Agro.  Right; completed first feature film script.  Both major achievements in their own right.


  • I get to interview Novak Djoković live in front of over 20,000 people at AAMI Park ahead of the Australian Open.  It’s like an entire small country town eavesdropping on a conversation between a guy and his man crush.  I’m really excited to interview someone who’s close to my height as well as the chance to show it is possible to both interview Djoković and still correctly pronounce his name.  I will later claim that the quality of the interview inspires Djoković to go on to win his next two Grand Slams.

  • I become a wine-drinker.  I hear that consumption of a large glass of fermented grapes is a sign of being a grown-up.  It doesn’t really make sense to me and honestly I’m more comfortable with consuming a small box of dried grapes and being told I’m behaving like a child.

  • My track record of disappearing from Australia during the winter in and going into hibernation in Europe during their summer continues.  I’m like a tall, blonde-haired, sort of German-looking bear really.  I meet lots of Serbian Olympians, actors and musicians, hang out with friends, jump across borders, oh and I sneak into many first-class lounges at airports while in transit.  Quite an adventure!

  • Most recently though, I turn ‘twenty-ten’.  Yep that’s a number now.  It’s for all of us who have the benefits and wisdom that come with reaching the age of thirty, combined with the immature inner-child (that’s quickly becoming an outer-child) that many people have lost by the time they were ten.  It’s real and it’s totally a thing.  I’m giving you all another year of your twenties.  You’re welcome! 

                    To be continued…

I leave you with this collage of some of my highlights of 2016.  Hopefully you spot yourself in some pics and even more hopefully, you're not annoyed at me for using a photo of you on here.

*Ending a bio can always be awkward and boring.  So to avoid that, here are a couple of pics of me as a child just generally being cute and waving goodbye to all you readers!*

The End of Part Three.

** For more info, updates and photos, follow me on Twitter & Instagram **

Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Tall Story: The Biography (Part 2)


  • Do work experience at GTV 9 in Melbourne, which sparks my interest in Journalism and working on TV.  It also gives me a chance to get Glenn Ridge, Nicki Buckley and Pete Smith from 'Sale of The Century' to sign headshots for my grandmother.  This might not seem like a big deal to some of you, but anyone with a Serbian, Italian, Spanish, etc grandmother in Australia knows this is huge brownie points.  Like a catholic getting a signed pic from the Pope where he leaves his Pope lipstick stamp on it.

  • That work experience gets me quite excited about the workforce... until I get my first job.  It's a paper round that involves me collecting, folding and delivering newspapers and pamphlets to 175 homes.  From start to finish, it takes me around 5 hours and pays a total of $7.60.  Given the distance I'm having to cover on foot and the money I'm earning, I consider exploring the possibility of becoming someone's sponsor child.  World Vision does not answer my phone calls.  Mum and dad aren't open to the idea.

  • Relatives come to visit from overseas.  I'm excited because I get to see my cousins. Mum's excited because it's apparently all the reason she needs to organise a long overdue Sovereign Hill day out and our 11th "olden days" photoshoot.  If you don't have even one of these, then your parents must have loved you just the right amount.

  • I get to meet the Serbian National Basketball team when they come to Australia for the Sydney Olympics and play a warm-up tournament in Melbourne.  I'm a tall kid already but have this awkward babyface, so it's a great opportunity for me to have evidence years later of me meeting people I really admire, while at the same time looking a bit average.  It all looks very 'Make-A-Wish' Foundation to be quite honest.

  • Start swimming for the school swimming team and put my flipper feet to good use.  I have to wear Speedos again… along with the rest of the team.  A fact which is made all the more difficult when one of the other boys on the team spots the dark hairs on either side of the ‘budgie smugglers’ of another team member and says to him one day at training “Woah, you’ve got spider legs!”  The team member is embarrassed, leaves the team and our relay events are thrown into disarray.  Not sure what happened to the douchebag bully that made the comment, but to this day I hope he got a job cleaning bikie clubhouse urinals with no gloves for minimum wage.

  • On a family trip to Queensland, I win $4 on each of four consecutive scratchies that I buy from the Mossman local newsagency.  Neither I nor the newsagent can believe my luck.  He’s convinced I’m an 'Ocean's 11' level con-artist and I’m convinced the win is enough to put him out of business.

Clockwise from top-left; Meeting basketball legend Predrag Danilovic, looking chuffed as hell to meet Dejan Tomasevic, what it looked like in 1865 when the common cold took your father's life while panning for gold and you had to assume the role of 'master of the manor'', my sister and I ready to start classes in the new millennium - same uniforms, new hair.



  • I enter ‘Class Clowns Comedy Competition’ with my friend, James Robertson as part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival and we reach the National Finals.  Despite winning the audience vote, the judges deem our material too ‘politically incorrect’.

  • We then come second in a school talent show to a family of slow motion athletes, spitting ‘Tic-Tacs’ to make it look like they are losing teeth.  We are disappointed.  Then we find out we each get $200, so we’re okay with it.  It's basically a lifetime gift voucher for the high school canteen or a lot of subway footlong meal deals in the real world.

James and I called ourselves "Mus-edy" because we combined music and comedy in our act.  The outfits we're wearing relate to a gag in our act about misinterpreting the dress code "semi-formal".  Champagne comedy.


  • Graduate High School.  Despite warnings from teachers and school staff against “joking around” at the graduation ceremony, I ‘bear hug’ the principal and kiss his cheek upon receiving my certificate.  He seems to enjoy it.  His wife glares at me.

  • I finally grow into my enormous head.  Still refuse to wear hats though, as I look like I have a terminal illness.  Not sure which of these two points are my biggest achievement of the year.

The 'Bear Hug affair' of 2003.  Sure he's the principal, but I'm the 'big spoon'.


  • I start exercising, with the goal of losing weight and getting in shape in time for my 18th birthday.  I continue exercising even after that, I love it so much... even though it hurts me.  It’s kind of like a dysfunctional long-term relationship.

  • Start my university studies at Deakin University in Geelong.  It's like what I imagine many rougher public schools to have always been like; no school uniform, attendance is up to the student and alcohol's available on campus.  Pretty happy time in life I must admit.

  • James and I audition for both 'Big Brother' and 'Australian Idol', the latter just for the sake of getting on TV and doing our impersonation of Shaggy's song 'Angel', which is so on point that blind Jamaican members of the Shaggy fan club couldn't tell the difference.  As for 'Big Brother', I make it through to the second round of auditions. Still unsure what that says about me as a human being.

  • I turn 18 and can finally drive, drink, go out clubbing and vote.  I do three of those in the same day.  That same year, my cousin does all four in the same day and forever blames himself for John Howard’s re-election.

  • Begin performing stand-up comedy solo.  My first ever gig is at the Armadale hotel as a part of ‘Champagne Comedy’.  The comedy room there closes shortly after.  The streak continues.

Clockwise from top-left; My 18th birthday party, meeting James Mathison at Idol auditions, with James and Jase snorkelling in Port Douglas, then with James and Jase about to almost seriously injure ourselves with a golf buggy 'Jackass' style.  What a time for wet-look gel, long denim shorts and chubby faces though!


  • Head overseas to Long Beach, California on study exchange through my university.  I meet celebrities, girls like my accent, and guys think I’m cool.  I drop more Aussie slang in my first 6 months there than Steve Irwin in his entire life.  I never want to leave.

Probably the best thing I've done in my life - study abroad 2005.  A tiny collection of only a few moments from a big part of my life and people who are still very important to me.  From Long Beach to San Diego to Halloween in Santa Barbara.


  • Graduate University with a ‘Bachelor of Arts’ degree, Majoring in Journalism – with Distinction.  I compare it to an ornately decorated macaroni artwork; I’ve put a lot of work into it and it looks great on the fridge, but I’m not entirely confident it’ll help me get a job.

  • Enter a national comedy competition for Nova Radio and after several weeks of public voting, I am announced as the winner.  I am happy and keep getting more involved in writing and performing.

  • Former Miss Universe, Jennifer Hawkins attends one of my gigs, laughs loudly at my jokes and chats to me after the show.  I think it’s the best example of complete satisfaction with having prime real estate in the friend zone.

On the left is a photo of university diploma.  On the right is a pic with Jennifer Hawkins after my gig.  Guess which one got posted to social media first.


  • Perform my first solo-stand-up comedy show at the Melbourne Town Hall for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.  It sells out multiple nights and is highly successful, except for one bad review from a disgruntled reviewer I will later refer to as “Hitler and Germaine Greer’s love-child”.  Even after my performance, the Town Hall is still in operation… the streak ends!

  • Spend six months back-packing and travelling across Europe and America on my own.  The experience is difficult, but I learn a lot and meet some amazing friends.  I also go to Oktoberfest, La Tomatina and Guča Music Festival.  I keep a diary so I never forget the experiences I had drinking beer, throwing tomatoes and listening to trumpets.

Clockwise from left: My Melbourne International Comedy Festival 2008 poster, chatting to Wil Anderson after the show, on-stage overseas while back-packing.


  • Write for ‘Rove’ and ‘Good News Week’, thus fulfilling a lifelong dream of writing for TV.  Certainly feel like I've come a long way creatively; today a 22-year old getting experience writing for TV, yet it seems like just yesterday I was a 3-year old getting smacked for drawing on the couch.  Life certainly happened.

  • Start writing and performing a segment called ‘Sunday Roast’ for SYN Radio comedy show ‘In Joke’ in Melbourne and I eventually take over as host of the show.  It's awesome fun and great radio training.  There's no stress because it's like a spin on that life philosophy of "dance like nobody's watching", in that sometimes when you're on-air, you feel like you're "talking while no-one's listening."

  • Put my Serbian language skills to good use as I start hosting the ‘Serbian Youth Radio Program’ on Pulse 94.7FM.  It’s an excellent opportunity to play the music I like, while feeling like a Eurovision audience member week in, week out.

Clockwise from bottom-left: Backpacking through Denmark, Italy, Greece, and at the radio station behind the microphone.

The End of Part Two.

** For more info, updates and photos, follow me on Twitter & Instagram **

Thursday, 29 September 2016

Tall Story: The Biography (Part 1)

I’m going to start this by saying that I generally hate writing a biography for myself.  I’m only doing it now because I was asked to write something about myself for a project I’m working on.  The reason I hate it is because the fundamental problem with writing a bio for yourself is you either end up writing in the first-person and sounding like what the Italians would call a ‘baggadouche’ or you have to write in the third-person and it just seems like you’ve enlisted the services of an imaginary friend most people should stop listening to the voice of during child therapy sessions their terrified parents make them attend.  Or best case scenario, despite your use of the third-person approach, everyone reading it knows you wrote it yourself and you just look stupid, like you sent yourself a Valentine’s Day card from “A Secret Admirer”.

Ideally the way I (or anyone for that matter) would want my bio to come about is for it to actually be written by someone influential who’s met me, just to give it a bit more credibility.  However, Novak Djokovic isn’t replying to my emails and apparently Jennifer Hawkins doesn’t have phone signal in Myer, so here we are.  That’s why I’ve decided to do something a little different.  I’ve done brief re-cap of my life so far, with dot points of the important bits... but I’ve done it in three parts because it seems more digestible that way and, well… let’s face it, we friggin’ love trilogies.  That being said, I plan to live at least another 30 years so this could turn into a ‘Rocky’/’Police Academy’ scenario in years to come.  Nevertheless, have a read, have a laugh and checkout some of my “greatest hits” (that you may never have heard) from the 80s, 90s and today!


  • Born in Baxter House, Geelong Hospital on June 29th at some time in the early hours of the morning.  The entire experience must have been awfully traumatic and difficult because I’ve blocked all memory of it out of my head.

  • Photos later confirm that I in fact ‘came out’ butt-first, thus the reason in photos soon after, my rear looks like the face of an intensely sunburnt cyclops.

  • Meet my Mum, Dad, Grandma and other family… enjoy their company so much, I continue to live with them for a number of years.

Already getting centrefold poses organised.  Incidentally, this image would appear in the Geelong Advertiser as an 18th birthday greeting from my parents.  True story.


  • Enter ‘Bay City Plaza Geelong’ and upon being asked by an MC hosting a performance event, “What do you want to be when you grow-up?”, in front of 500 parents and children I proudly proclaim, “I want to be the first frog in space!”

  • We move out of our unit in Bell Park and into a new house in Highton.  Fortunately, due to my still tiny frame, I am excused from assisting with the moving process.

  • My sister is born – I mostly quietly but occasionally vocally, object to the introduction of a new housemate without my authority.

  • My godmother buys me my first ‘outfit’ – a crisp white sailor suit, with navy embroidery, shoulder cuffs and gold trim on the sleeves.  A sailor’s hat and navy sandals are also included.  Only years later will I realise just how cute I really am at this moment.

You may need to adjust your screens to deal with all this cuteness.


  • I Begin Sub-Prep at St. Andrew’s Primary School in Newtown, Geelong.  Play ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ with twins, Evan and James McDonald at recess on my first day.  We become best friends.

  • Develop a deep affinity for eating ‘Play-doh’ and ‘Klag’.  Hence the reason I start referring to ‘art time’ as ‘tea time’.

  • Like the rest of the boys, and some of the girls, I have a bowl cut hairstyle.  It seems like an incredibly easy time to be a hairdresser.

Bowl cut on point and some pics with the twins throughout primary school.


  • Continue to fight the urge to suck my thumb when I sleep.  Parents buy me a product called ‘Ban-suck’, which is rubbed on the thumb and causes burning when put in the mouth.  I continue to suck my thumb and become accustomed to the pain.  This is possibly the first documented example of the term ‘thug life’.

  • I learn that we are not all on the same ‘toilet clock’.  I realise that none of my other ‘non-ethnic’ classmates have to go to the toilet as often as me… I'm 4-years old and it is my first encounter with the phrase “when in Rome”.  1 hour later, I poo my pants.  Mum picks me up and drives me home, while I lay face down in the back seat of the car, apologising profusely.

"Shout-out to all the people out there who ain't grow-up to be suckas just because they was little thumb-suckas" - Anonymous rapper.


  • Perform my first creative piece at ‘Show & Tell’; a collection of poems and humorous song covers including a rendition of Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m Too Sexy’, which includes the lyrics “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt…. that’s why I wear a jumper.”

  • Give mum a letter to send, with illustrations and stickers, to ‘Agro’s Cartoon Connection’.  She promises she will give it to her “good friend” and host of the show Anne-Maree Biggar.  I win no toys… I meet no puppet.  Years later, I learn that my mother never sent the letter.  Nor does she, nor did she ever, know Miss Biggar.

  • During a visit to the Geelong Show, mum and dad tell me that this is ‘Disneyland’.  The first true test of my limitless imagination.

Post-'Show & Tell' class photo: This is what bad-asses look like in the private primary school system.


  • I get lost at Canberra Serbian Festival while waiting for mum and sister to come out of the toilets.  I assume that after 15 minutes they must have come out without me seeing them so I go walking to find them.  I am sad, until a nice lady with a floral dress helps me find my “mama”.  My mum finds me and she is happy.  Then she smacks me for walking off alone.  I am sad again.

  • Realise I have a knack for maths timetables after winning several timetable competitions in class.  It begins a long run of amusing but mostly useless skills.

  • Have first artistic tantrum when my first published piece of work, (a poem called ‘The Follow Dog’) is printed in the school year book, in the bottom corner of the page.  I protest that it should be centre-top.

  • Dad lets me get my hair cut ‘number one’ all over.  My mum blames him for years that this is the reason my hair is no longer straight… or blonde.  The bowl cut soon makes a return.

The shaved head look slowly growing through on a trip to Fiji.  Don't know whether to address the fact that my head looks like an egg with three-day growth or that I would've made an awesome addition to the 'Lion King' Broadway show.


  • For two months, I’m convinced that ‘finger’ is in fact pronounced ‘thinger’ and proceed to inform and gradually convince my Grade 3 class of this fact.

  • Mum enrols me in gymnastics for coordination purposes.  It seems I am walking into too many walls and injuring myself a great deal, and in a variety of ways – possibly due to my head, which at present, is still too large for my body.  She buys me a pair of pink and black spandex shorts for the activity.  I comment that she needs help with her colour-coordination.

  • Start playing basketball with the Knicks at Geelong’s ‘Life Be In It Centre’.  In my first season I sprain my ankle and dislocate my little finger.  For the remainder of my life, this will leave me almost completely unable to perform an adequate ‘pinky promise’.

  • Start learning to play guitar; mostly Elvis songs, which I proceed to play at every opportunity for my classmates, particularly at ‘Show & Tell’.  Unrequested/unwanted encore performances become a trademark.

  • Come runner-up in a school camp ‘talent’ competition by performing an impersonation of Elvis as an elderly woman, along with my Indian friend Sujain.  This, coupled with my ‘Elvis guitar serenades’, lead to me having the nickname ‘Elvis’ for the remainder of primary school.

Girls love a guitarist... except when his guitar has Disney stickers on it and he wears his grandma's vest while playing it. 


  • Buy first ever CDs (all singles); ‘Spice Girls – Wannabe’, ‘Los Del Rio – Macarena’, and ‘Seal – Kiss From a Rose’.  The last of which, I’m ashamed to say, I will go on to request at OzSkate Rollerblading Centre, during a weekend visit.  I also get my mum to write on each CD cover ‘Stefan Popovic’ so that (unfortunately) there’s no doubt whatsoever about who they belong too.

  • Start learning Taekwondo.  My training includes 2 hours of martial arts training each week, as well as renting every Bruce Lee movie ever made.

When you really want to be Bruce Lee, but instead you're the only kid who forgot his Taekwondo uniform for the photo day.


  • Go on a world trip with parents and sister for two and a half months.  See the real Disneyland.  Dad tries to joke that this is the ‘Geelong Show’.

  • Perform in my first school play.  There isn’t enough room left in the cast for the main production, so I am left to perform in a separate play to the rest of the class, with the nose-picking, asthmatic British kid, Johnny Joseph.  He plays a giraffe and I’m dressed-up as a bear.

  • Later that year, I perform in another class play about ‘Waltzing Maltida’.  I play the ‘Coolabah Tree’, due to my freakishly tall frame.  It literally involves me just standing with one arm outstretched over the rest of the cast holding an empty box of ‘Coolabah’ cask wine… in school uniform.

  • Soon after, St Andrew’s Primary School closes down.

Disneyland.  Some have gone so far as to refer to it as "the 'Geelong Show' of the northern hemisphere".


  • Finish Primary Schooling, and begin Secondary schooling, at Kardinia International College.  I bring the bowl cut with me.

  • I keep playing basketball, and after playing and training 4 times a week, combined with watching ‘NBA Action’ and ‘NBL Highlights’ every Saturday morning, I am convinced I will be the next Michael Jordan… only more pale.

I only realise now that we had essentially the same hairstyle, except my sister's was 'salad bowl' while mine was still at the 'soup bowl' stage.


  • I audition for ‘Hey Hey It’s Saturday’ in the same room that the Keno lotto draw is filmed.  The routine consists entirely of me impersonating Scottish, American, Indian and English people.  I don’t make it onto ‘Red Faces’ and the show is cancelled soon after.  I begin to notice a trend with the effect my performances have on the fate of the venues at which I am performing them.

  • Decide to stop wearing Speedos, just in time for my first end-of-semester beach trip.  Am happy that certain things have been left to the imagination, out of sight and out of mind.

  • Learn how to make highly realistic fart sounds with my hands, providing my classmates with endless amusement during excursions and class movies in the auditorium.  I also become the bane of my teachers’ existence.


  • I go to Japan for one month on study exchange.  My Japanese improves significantly while living with my host family and going to a Japanese school, but I seem to get more out of walking around the city kicking buildings whilst shouting, “Aaargh GODZILLA!”

  • Start to get the reputation as the ‘class clown’.  Girls think I’m hilarious, but just want to be my friends.  Begin to feel like puberty has been wasted on me.

Japan trip 1999:  No knives and forks, no shoes, no problem.

The End of Part One.

** For more info, updates and photos, follow me on Twitter & Instagram **