Winter is coming but the cold never bothered me anyway – Game of Thrones Giveaway Winner Announced

ERMAHGERD! Is the pigeon not cooked, Gary?!{image}

ERMAHGERD! That pigeon is raw, Gary! {image}

I’d always suspected you were all in equal parts twisted and hilarious.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been running a great competition to give away a box set of Game of Thrones books by George R R Martin, thanks to Bookworld. To win, all you had to do was suggest the weirdest predictions for Season 5 of the television series.

I set you quite a challenge but SEVEN HELLS you all stepped up and went beyond the call of duty. I’ve had a very difficult time choosing between them all. Thank you (I think) so much for dropping by and allowing me a quick peek inside your truly beautiful and crazy heads.

Before I announce the winner, I’d like to share some of the themes that surfaced.

Seems like you’re very interested in making GoT a musical, possibly cabaret, or perhaps a Disney movie.

Yes I know winter is coming but the cold never bothered me anyway.

Many of you are obsessed with Jon Snow and if you can’t have him, you want the Mother of Dragons to.

Several of you wanted to see a mash-up of Harry Potter and GoT which I think someone really should get on to.

I recommend that you go look at all the comments because every one is brilliant, but here are some of my favourites:

  1. “Jon becomes head of the Night’s Watch and his first decree as commander is that black is sooooo last year, so he orders new pink uniforms for everyone, with a matching tiara for himself.” – Mitchell Osmond
  2. “All the boy actors get together to do a Broadway number with high kicking, top hats and tails while the girls perform synchronise swim routines, always smiling in the swamp. While this is happening the dragon creature sings “Puff the magic dragon” while the little dwarf guy paints his nails.” – Mark Downey
  3. “Bran takes over Hodor’s mind again and gets stuck. Unable to transfer back to his own body he begins his new life as Whoredor, working long nights at Littlefinger’s brothel until he catches the eye of Loras Tyrell.” – Alesha Martyn
  4. “We watch a “White Wedding” episode; Billy Idol makes a cameo” – Ed
  5. “Varys and Tyrion sail to Mereen and Varys hangs out with Grey Worm and share gelding stories. Tyrion realises he’s actually a Replicant and only has six hours to live.” – JuzzyTribune
  6. “It’s revealed Joffrey was actually killed by raw pigeon meat leaving Masterchef judges aghast.” – Joe Crisafulli
  7. “Danaerys finally discovers that kittens are a lot easier to manage than dragons, and changes her title to ‘Mother of Kittehs’. The people of Mereen are understandably confused by this, but are on the whole grateful that they’ll escape being turned into crispy critters. Drogon, however, is not impressed at all, and launches a campaign against his former mistress to win back her love. His idea of ‘love tokens’, though, is somewhat bloodthirsty – and there’s only so much well-done goat that one woman can eat.” – The Conscience Vote

The competition was fierce and I whittled it down to two very, very good contenders. One deserved to win for sheer oddness, the other on epic punnage and the sheer volume of their predictions. I wish I had two sets of books to give away!

In second place, winning a smug sense of accomplishment and a virtual pat on the back, is Andrew Mc, who gave us this punny prediction (and about 10 others – go check them all out):

“Rumours of Shae’s death have reached her father, Lord Butters, back in Lorath. With his mind churning, he immediately instructs one of his spies, Mar Jarine, to travel to King’s Landing to confirm or debunk the rumours. Mar Jarine wastes no time spreading himself around King’s Landing.”

Which leaves this winning prediction from Sue Knight, who wins the box set of books and membership to the smug I’VE READ THE BOOKS SO I KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN club:

“The Hound is sent to obedience school and after weeks of Walkies with the Walkers, he returns with a full poodle makeover.”

And now I want to see that in Season 5. Who do I need to talk to, to make that happen?

Congratulations, Sue, I will be in touch about delivering your books!

Thanks again for entering, lovely ones. If you didn’t win, fear not, you can still buy the set here. It’s going to be a long nine months until the next season, after all…

Catapalusa

Jones. On the internet.

Jones. On the internet.


Hi Frog-Lovers. Yes, again, this is a post-that-is-not-a-post. Things are crazy here at the Lily Pad, between work and studying my coaching qualification, writing has taken a back seat, from where it’s constantly asking “Are we there yet?”, kicking the back of my seat and throwing things at my head. Writing is a bit of a bastard, really.

In lieu of a real post, then, here are some cats. Lots and lots of cats. Oh and David Tennant. Enjoy!

I believe I cat fly…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UssVI-tYIrg

A cat. Holding a human’s hand. Yes.

Why the hell would you NOT want to watch cat videos? Oh and David Tennant.

Send me the links to your favourite cat videos. Please!

I’m linking up again with Laugh Link. Join in, add your link, or just have a browse and a laugh.
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The Laugh Link crew are:


Emily

Have a Laugh on Me
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Twitter

Rachel

Redcliffe Style
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Kimberley

Melbourne Mum
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Alison

Talking Frankly
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Twitter

Vanessa

26 Years and Counting
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Be glad you’re not a male mantis

Puppy-dog eyes  Image

Puppy-dog eyes and alien-everything-else
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Hi Frog-Lovers – I hope you enjoyed/survived Easter, school holidays and other assorted horrors. We’re on the mend over here at the Lily Pad, after a neat circular exchange of bugs of various kinds (not the insect kind although perhaps a plague of locusts would be in-theme).

Now that I’ve said that, of course, we’ll be reporting the Black Death over here and bringing out our dead. Anyone got a wheelbarrow?

Awesome way to tempt the universe, Frog.

You may by now suspect that this post is another of those “this is a post that’s not a post” posts, and you’re probably not wrong.

In that spirit, I want to share another “The Truth About” video. This one features one of my favourite insects – the mantis. You may remember that I took one to McDonalds a while back. That one didn’t have a laser beam and as far as I know, it didn’t like live tennis porn.

I think the message from this video is “be glad you’re not a male mantis”. Trust me.

What’s your favourite insect?

I’m linking up with Laugh Link again this week. Go on. Click on it. I dare you!

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My subconscious has gone AWOL

Brain

An arsehole. Image

Brain:    Good morning!

Me:        Ugh.

Brain:    What?

Me:        Why did you have to give me those dreams last night?

Brain:    Which ones? The one about the wedding, or the one about the unicorn?

Me:        You gave me dreams about weddings and unicorns?!

Brain:    Errrrm… No?

Me:        *side eye*

Brain:    That’s physically impossible.

Me:        I know; that’s why I’m telling you I’m doing it. Because I can’t actually look at you.

Brain:    Right.

Me:        You gave me this stupid dream where I was trying to convince a man to get back in contact with his young daughter. Every time I almost got them back together, something happened to ruin it.

Brain:    Yup.

Me:        So what was your point?

Brain:    I don’t understand dreams, I just give them to you.

Me:        Isn’t a dream supposed to be my subconscious trying to tell me things?

Brain:    Sure. But the subconscious isn’t here right now to answer your questions.

Me:        Where is it?

Brain:    I don’t know. I’m not your subconscious’ keeper, you know.

Me:        …

Brain:    …

Me:        Actually you quite literally are.

Brain:    …

Me:        Can you please take a message then?

Brain:    Sure, why not!?

Me:        Gee thanks.

Brain:    You’re welcome!

Me:        So there I was dreaming a confusing dream about a dude and his daughter, when you gave me a nightmare.

Brain:    I would never do that!

Me:        Liar. You did give me a nightmare. You made me dream about SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES. You bastard.

Brain:    That doesn’t sound like me. That was definitely your subconscious.

Me:        You made me dream about shopping for clothes AND IT WAS HORRIBLE.

Brain:    I wondered why you woke up sweating.

Me:        Why do you hate me?

Brain:    I don’t hate you. Maybe your subconscious hates you.

Me:        Well then please pass that message on to my subconscious when it comes back from wherever the hell it’s gone.

Brain:    You’re asking me to tell your subconscious that you hate it? That doesn’t sound healthy to me.

Me:        You started it.

Brain:    Your subconscious started it.

Me:        Bastard.

Brain:    That’s not very nice.

Me:        Arsehole.

Brain:    You seem to be a bit confused about anatomy.

Me:        Ugh.

Does your brain hate you too?

I’m linking up with Laugh Link again this week. Click on the button below to read some hilarious bits of bloggery. I dare you.

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Laugh Link is nearly here – are you ready?

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Hello darling Frog-Lovers. Do you blog? Do you have a funny post ready for Monday’s Laugh Link, premiering here on the LilyPad?

Yes?

No?

Better get on it!

In the meantime, here are the two funniest videos I’ve seen in… well, possibly forever.
From the Honest Trailer geniuses, here are the Honest Trailers for my two favourite TV shows. One that’s about to start its new season, and the other that has, alas, gone.

I hope they make your day like they did mine.

BEWARE SPOILERS

Frog of Pond, if you don’t mind. Click here for a history test with dragons. And boobs.

Click on this one to see decapitated turtle bombs and roof pizza. Mmmmmm roof pizza. And Malcolm’s dad.

The best coloured wee I have ever seen

This could be the best wee you've ever seen

This could be the best wee you’ve ever seen

Hi Frog-Lovers. In case this is your first visit to the Lily Pad, between now and Christmas I’m hosting some wonderful and funny writers while I get some amphibious rest. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do. Who knew so many of you were so hilarious!?

Today’s guest is my bloggy mate Alison, who blogs over at Talking Frankly. Here she shares a story about urine samples – a subject so perfect for the Lily Pad that I already had a category for it.

When I got the opportunity to be a contributor to Five Frogs Blog, I was pretty excited, and then hugely intimidated. See, people seem to read this blog which means that meeting Ms M’s brief of ‘funny’ all of a sudden became a lesson in procrastination that is largely unparalleled in all of history.

So I’ve abandoned funny and want to talk to you all about the dangers of doubtful self esteem when defining achievements post redundancy.

When the outplacement consultant asked me to focus on what achievement in the last five years made me feel most proud – mine wasn’t my marriage, two beautiful daughters or the myriad of business achievements.  The first thing that came to mind was a compliment on the colour of my wee.

Wee.  Yes.

When I was uppus duffus with my first daughter, I had been (wrongly as it turned out) diagnosed with placenta previa and had to spend all sorts of time visiting the hospital and getting “monitored”.

On one occasion, I was dispatched to pee in a jar (being uppus duffus is the most gloriously dignified state – no really). I obediently waddled off, peed and returned with my little jar which I handed over, feeling quite pleased by how full it was – aim is not so easy for a female and especially a heavily pregnant one.

The nurse held the jar up to the light and said “That is the best coloured wee I have ever seen”.

Oh my.

I had the best coloured wee she had EVER seen.  Not, one of the best. Not, a very good shade to read a newspaper through. No.  The BEST wee she’d ever seen.

And I’m not joking.  Quite inexplicably – I beamed.  Shiny eyes, puffed up chest and a completely disproportionate sense of pride in the colour of my wee.  “Oh” I said, “I drink a lot of water”.

“Good”.

“More people should you know”

And now my pride knew no bounds.  I was a role model for people wanting to produce the right coloured wee!  She’d probably talk about me in the staff room. Hold me up as a shining example to other clients.  I would be known as the woman with the most awesome wee.

And I was in a public hospital.  They were not getting paid to blow smoke up my backside.  This was GENUINE praise.

I told anybody that would listen the story of my glorious moment.  Obviously quite self-deprecatingly, with a wry smile and a ‘get that’ eye roll.  But time has caught me out.  When asked what was my greatest achievement in the last five years – I thought about that jar of wee.

So it’s a small but cautionary tale for all of you.  Do not let your instincts guide your responses to questions about achievements.  Go with tradition on this one and find something more traditional to espouse on your resume.  Money is not paid to people of exceptional talent, but rather to people of saleable talent.

It’s a cruel, cruel world.

What’s your most saleable talent?

_talkingfrankly

Alison is an admirer of wordsmiths, quirky thinking, equality, chutzpah and kindness. Actively opposed to apathy. Blogs about anything from housework to human rights. Professional profaner. Mama to two perfect daughters and is married to the world’s best husband. You can read her blog here and connect on Facebook here. She’s also on Instagram as _talkingfrankly and Twitter.

Suddenly, there are deer in my bra

Oh deer

Oh deer

Hi Frog-Lovers. In case this is your first visit to the Lily Pad, between now and Christmas I’m hosting some wonderful and funny writers while I get some amphibious rest. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do. Who knew so many of you were so hilarious!?

Today’s guest is my memoir mentor and writerly friend, the inimitable Helen Patrice. Here she shares a story of exotic locations, wild animals, and underwear.

So, FiveFrogs starts asking around her writing bloggy cronies for those of us who are known as Humour Writers. I’m apparently one of them. I gaily say that, sure, I can submit a blog post for promotion on her ‘Check out this funny writer person’ blog thing. I’m a funny person. I make people laugh. (Let’s not go into my dismal capital F fail in Hawaii to do stand-up. The non-appreciation from the back of the van could be heard for miles, echoing off Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa as we travelled the Saddle Road between them. Both Poliahu and Pele thought I sucked.)

I spend the afternoon lying in the sunshine, reading ‘Perfume’ by Patrick Suskind. Not exactly a rip-roaring laughter book. More a grim but witty novel set amongst the scents and odours of France. Pee-hew! I’m up to page 90 and there’s already been one scent-related murder, with more to come, I can tell.

My laptop has lazed at my side. Twice during the afternoon, PizzaBoy has hunkered down behind it, and in a mousy voice, said: “Use me for blogging”.

To which my response has been: “Fuck off, Canada! Don’t pressure me! I’m a delicate writer.”

I lay there, and wondered what to be funny about. I could riff on my trip to Japan and China. I could, but…. Ho hum, I am such the weary traveller that it’s all very ho-hum, and what can I say that someone like Bill Bryson hasn’t said better. Not that he’s ever had the problem of too many deer in his bra at Nara.

I suppose I should explain. The shrine at Nara has a park with many charming deer roaming about. The deer mob visitors to the shrine. Many of the pathside vendors sell deer biscuits. No, not biscuits made of deer. Wafery type biscuits that are good for the deer to eat.

I wanted a not-your-usual tourist pic. Never mind me feeding the deer. I wanted the deer to mob me and eat off my body.

I lay down on a path where deer were seated nearby in the shade. I covered my clothed(must emphasise this, CLOTHED) body with pieces of deer bickie. Nothing. The deer looked away. Fool woman lying on the cold ground, desecrating the Nara shrine with her foul white ways.

Two Asian tourists took my photo and sniggered. Walked away.

I had to gather up my deer biscuits as best I could, which wasn’t very, because they fall to bits as soon as touched, and skulk away. Meanwhile, the Asian tourists are being flocked upon by deer, and they don’t even have any biscuits.

Bollocks.

A bit later, I try again. I sit down on a bench. I coax deer over with biscuits in hand. Then biscuits in lap. Then I lie down and put biscuits upon my person. The deer back away. Fine then, no prone deer mobbing. I sit up, and inspired, shove biscuits into my cleavage. Crumbs make a break for it, due south. They bypass my bra and somehow my singlet and top and end up in the knees of my leggings, where they itch like mo-fo’s. (I am up with hipster language like mo-fo, LOL, and er…other things)

Deer approach. One reaches into my cleavage, turns its head a bit sideways, and delicately selects a wafer of biscuit, leaving behind wet, sticky deer drool and a warm nose-imprint. Suddenly, there are deer in my bra. Many of them, and they all want the same biscuit. Easy guys, easy! There’s enough cleavage for all! Truly. I’m a 14DD, wearing a totally unsupportive Aah-Bra.
I get my photos. The Asian tourists get photos. Possibly the deer do, too.

I am content. I have my photo. Enough now, deer. But the deer are relentless. They can smell the crumbs festooning me. One tries to get up under my skirt to get at the crumbs around my knees. I am the Tippi Hedren of deer.

“Nature! It’s all over me! Get it off!” I say to PizzaBoy, quoting ‘Madagascar’.

I stand up. The deer butt me gently under the boobs. I have to retire to a toilet cubicle to de-smear, de-deer, and de-crumb myself. I never do get those leggings completely biscuit-free. They get washed twice more during the trip. I am sure I can still feel crumbs in them.

I sit back and look at this blog entry. Is it funny? I can’t tell. I feel morose. There is nothing amusing any more. Nothing. The pup loathes me – he is sleeping with his back to me. Looking at that sunshine. Nothing funny about that. I think about yoga this morning. I know we laughed at something. It’s gone now.

I think this is the blight of every comedian – the strain of finding the funny means that often, nothing seems to be when examined closely.

Then I start fretting that this is part of me coming off my full dosage of anti-depressant and seeing how I fare at 10mg. Am I tipping headlong into The Bad Place? It doesn’t feel like it.

Oh, I drive myself mad with this kind of thinking. If only I could think it was funny.

Tell me, readers. How many deer are too many to have in your bra?

Helen smaller

Helen Patrice is a Melbourne poet, memoirist, and blogger. She lives with her husband, son, and a small crowd of animals. You can find her blog here, her Facebook page here, and her book of Poetry, “A Woman of Mars” from here or from the author herself.

 

Accidental behavioral diarrhea and embracing your inner arsehole

ninaanddaisyhat

Nina and Daisy J Dog.
Image courtesy of Nina Bargiel

I believe that we should all stand up and not only call out other people’s arseholery, but also stand up and accept that we ourselves can be arseholes too.

I really recommend that you embrace your inner arsehole, so you can monitor it and take some responsibility when it rears its ugly head. Otherwise it’s likely that it’ll leap up and catch you by surprise. I spent most of my life being nice and denying my inner arsehole and as a result, it became uncontrollable and broke free at unexpected and seriously inconvenient times. These arsehole explosions (accidental behavioral diarrhea, as it were) led me to say and do things that to this day I regret.

These days I accept that I’m a bit of an arsehole and I feel under much less pressure. There are some areas of life, though, from which you have to keep your inner arsehole well away.

A while back I wrote a thing here about chickens and not being an arsehole with your jokes.

Today I read something that did a much better job of expressing my point.

Nina Bargiel, AKA the Slackmistress, is a TV writer, passionate runner, dog mummy and all-round clever and hilarious chick. I love her writing and her jokes (yes even the shitty ones*). Nina wrote this thing and you should all read it:

The best thing you and your inner arsehole will read today. Trust me. Unless you’re a murderer, in which case you probably shouldn’t but if you’re a murderer the last thing you’re likely to do is listen to the likes of me. Sorry Nina, I may have just encouraged a lot of murderers to read your thing. Oops.

Now go follow her on Twitter and Facebook. Tell her The Frog sent you. You won’t regret it.

* Nina never makes shitty jokes but if she did I’d love them. Because I’m an arsehole.

Working from home – the ugly truth

dreamstime_s_23253906 body

Appearance of actual person working from home may vary*

Hi Frog-Lovers. In case this is your first visit to the Lily Pad, between now and Christmas I’m hosting some wonderful and funny writers while I get some amphibious rest. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do. Who knew so many of you were so hilarious!?

Today’s guest is the gorgeous Lana Hirschowitz from Sharpest Pencil. Lana and I share a lot in common, not least of which is the questionable joy and doubtful privilege of working from home. Here she shares the ugly truth about the experience.

There is a conspiracy, I am sure of it.  Thousands of people all around the world are working from home, in fact the 2013 Regus Global Economic Indicator reveals that 64% of Australian business leaders manage someone who works remotely for at least some of the time. And that’s not counting the people who are working for themselves. Yet nobody is telling the truth.

There are manuals and blog posts, webinars and courses outlining what you need to know about working from home.   I’ve read so many of them and I’ve discovered that none of them tell the truth. Not until now.

You see I have recently given up an office job to go back to working from home but, unlike the blumph I have read, I am willing to share the real truth about what happens when you work where you live:

  1. Some people think working from home is code for “not working that hard”. You will soon start to see red when you hear this, you may also feel the need to inflict bodily pain. But you can’t because you won’t even have a free moment for pain infliction.
  2. You will be inundated with calls from charities. There is a distinct possibility that you end up donating more than you actually earn.
  3. You run a very good chance of forgetting that people don’t actually wear slippers out of the house.
  4. Further to point 3 above, even though you won’t always feel like it you should get dressed and brush your teeth as soon as you wake up. It’s easier to forget later in the day and picking up the kids in pajamas with a cappuccino moustache will only serve to worry the other parents.
  5. You will eat everything in your fridge. Once the fridge is empty you will move on to the entire contents of the cupboard. The only way to avoid this is to only stock food that you are allergic to.
  6. When you go to the shop the person behind the counter will inevitably ask if you are having a day off. You will immediately feel bad that you stepped out of the house with no regard to the fact that if you were in an office and you left to go to the shop, you would feel nothing about it at all.
  7. You will be tempted to do all the house-work instead of working. Don’t worry about that – this will pass very quickly.
  8. Daytime TV. You have been warned.
  9. There are days that you will feel like you have achieved nothing at all. Just remember that you started out in your bed and you are no longer there so that’s something. Unless of course you work from bed.
  10. There is a tendency to think that you will be lonely without other people in an office. Remember that these concerns first saw the light of day in in the time before Twitter. In fact you will never be lonely if you have an internet connection, you will also never get any work done.
  11. If you do want to see other people try the Medicare queue, that way you will get to form meaningful bonds with people in a work environment. That’s how long you will spend in the queue.
  12. During school holidays your friends will confuse you for an occasional day care centre. If you can work with ten kids screaming at your desk you will be fine with this.
  13. If you plan carefully you can sneak in naps. Just be prepared to work all night to make up for it (which kind of defeats the purpose).
  14. The sound of the washing machine will become such a constant companion that sometimes you will find it hard to work if it is not on. The plus side of this is if you are indeed running a laundry service from home.

Anything else you’ve learned from working at home?

Any questions you want to ask before you make the move?

lana head shotLana Hirschowitz is a writer, blogger and social media consultant. She was the launch editor of iVillage in Australia and Managing Editor of Mamamia (Australia’s largest independent female website) for over three years. She’s also a lover of toast, her family and Candy Crush, but not necessarily in that order. You can find her blog at Sharpest Pencil or follow her on Twitter @lanahirschowitz and on Facebook at SharpestPencilOnline. Go say hi – tell her the Frog sent you.

* Is it just me, or does this woman who works from home look a little too pleased that her screen isn’t turned on? Either that or she’s about to fart. Personally with that desk arrangement I’d be likely to try to drink my plant and water my coffee. That plant looks spikey. Working from home is dangerous, people.

Questions for Ben: What you can do to prevent the breakdown of society (plus chickens)

How could you not give this man a lousy dollar?
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Today I ask the author, comedian, poet, and all-round hilarious dude, Ben Pobjie, some questions (mainly about chickens). A big thank you to Ben for agreeing to let me loose in his brain.

Frog: You’ve started your latest show, An Evening of Unfettered Ben, at the Butterfly Club in Melbourne this week. The crucial question is; will there be butterflies?

Ben: No. I’ve been thoroughly fumigated.
Frog: OK folks, you heard it here first. You can all go to the show (you’re all going, right?) knowing you won’t be bothered by any pesky Lemon Migrants or Purple Coppers. Ben, you’re currently raising money for your next MICF show – Trigger Warning. What can you tell us about the show?
Ben: It will be completely unapologetic, potentially disturbing and reasonably audible. Do not come if you are likely to be offended by anything whatsoever.
Frog: Chicken, or beef?
Ben: Chicken. C’mon. Beef? It’s known as “poor man’s chicken”.
Frog: Why did the chicken?
Ben: Pure bloody-mindedness.
Frog: Speaking of chickens, you’re funding your next MICF show with the Give Ben A Dollar campaign. How’s that going?
Ben: People have been very generous except for those who haven’t. I ask you: if I asked you for a dollar to buy a packet of chips, wouldn’t you give it to me? So c’mon guys, why not to buy a packet of comedy?
Frog: Well then I ask you, if I gave you a dollar today, what would you do with it?
Ben: Flip it in the air in a rakish manner.
Frog: I’d pay to see that. On the subject of rakes, Tennant or Smith?
Ben: Tennant. Unless the Smith in question is champion Melbourne Storm hooker Cameron Smith, who is pretty great.
Frog: What’s the best heckle (not written by you) that you’ve ever received at a gig?
Ben: This is like asking me who is my favourite racist. The best heckle is one that a person is intelligent enough to keep to themselves. 
Frog: Let’s talk about favourites, then. House Stark, or House Lannister?
Ben: To be friends with, or to stab an innocent person in the face? Stark for the former. Stark again for the latter, since you couldn’t even trust a Lannister to stab the right person.

Frog: If you could invite anyone (living, dead, real, or fictional) over for dinner, who would it be and why (I’m guessing neither Starks nor Lannisters are on the list)?
Ben: Shaun Micallef. I would beg him for a job. 

Frog: While you’re waiting for Shaun Micallef to drop from the ceiling with a job, what’s the most persuasive reason you can think of why people should Give Ben a Dollar?
Ben: Because human society is built on the principle of reciprocal cooperation, and those who fail to assist their fellow man in his time of need are risking a total breakdown of the community adhesion upon which civilisation depends.
Frog: Shit, this comedy thing is serious. C’mon people, Give Ben a Dollar. We don’t want to see civilisation fall for the lack of a little gold coin, do we?
Ben Pobjie writes for The Guardian, The Age, New Matilda and for his own blog, Ben Pobjie’s Wonderful World of Objects. You should all go like him on Facebook and follow him on Twitter, and go see him at the Butterfly Club. Most of all, though, you should give him a dollar. For the sake of humanity.