Tony Abbott poses in his budgie smugglers and it's not a pretty sight

I mean, seriously. Would you vote for this man?

Liberal Party MEMBER Tony Abbott was at Queenscliff beach on Sunday when the media approached him to reveal if he was LEFT or RIGHT.

I think it's just wrong.

At an ocean racing event, most men wear dark-coloured budgie smugglers to reveal as little defintion as possible (except for that bloke at Coogee on Sunday wearing white sluggos - not a good look mate).

Generally, it's all tres discreet. The old fellas are packed tight and outa sight.

But Mr Abbott, a conservative pollie who once considered becoming a priest and is now at the fore(skin)front of the global warming sceptics, seems happy to flaunt his gonads to all and sundry.

And if you look closely at this pic, not too close as it might cause dizziness and nausea, you may notice that Mr Abbott appears to be holding in his tummy and puffing out his chest.

Here's a dare to anyone who's game. Put in a call to Mr Abbott's electoral office tomorrow and ask for I.C. Wiener and Mike Rotch.

The moral of this story is that pollies should keep their lollies in the bag and behind the counter.

This pic is from The Australian newspaper)

A perfect day for the Coogee Island Challenge Ocean Swim at Coogee beach

Today was a perfect day and the surf around Sydney was perfectly flat which (I have to admit) is the way I like it.

(I can hear the cat calls from the hardcore ocean swimmers who think tackling a swell the size of the killer wave in The Perfect Storm is a doddle. Tough luck boys.)

It was with a light heart that I headed down to Coogee this morning to swim in the 2.4 km Coogee Island Challenge Ocean Swim with my brother-in-law, Davo, and his son, Little Prefect, who was our mascot.

The swim was out and around Wedding Cake Island, a 150-metre long rocky outcrop off Coogee, and back to the beach.

The turn-out for the event was huge and, as the results are already up on http://www.oceanswims.com/, I can tell you that 1117 or so people completed the swim - most of them faster than me.

I enjoyed the experience, except for the buggers who swam over me, tugged at my feet and kicked me in the goggles. I've never had that happen before to such an extent in a swim, so it was a bit of a turn-off and it definitely slowed me down - I know, excuses excuses. I'm always making them.

The water was absolutely beautiful - cool, crisp and clear. Out at the island I could see the 20 metres to the bottom where leather jackets, bream, blue groper, sponges and soft and hard corals can be found. I wished I could have dived down there like a mermaid to join them.

But it's a rough and tumble world on the ocean's surface, and that's where I remained (though I'm not very bouyant).

Bloody Davo, who reads this blog occasionally in the guise of his blind dog Danny Boy, beat me again. Not that I care. See you soon Big Maaaan. Let the real challenge begin NOW!

PS Sorry about the poor quality of the pic, but my camera is lousy and I can't afford a new one as I'm spending all my money on these swims - average $30 per swim.

The B52s bomb at the Enmore Theatre as lead vocalist Kate Pierson covers for Cindy Wilson

It was going to be a big night. I was taking 13-year-old Miss Hissy to see the B52s at the Enmore, and we were excited.

For the past month, The 'best of' the B52s CD has been on high rotation in our house, with Miss Hissy dancing around the lounge room in a wild retro dervish.

By the time we got to the Enmore last night, her anticipation was at fever pitch.

The place was packed with balding 50-something men, wearing loose fitting shirts and jeans, accompanied by their worn and weathered spouses. Ageing is a bugger.

Let's face it. We were all there to capture, freeze and frame a glimpse of our youth.

The parties where Rock Lobster was played over and over and over again on the record player, the stylus skimming across the vinyl as the floorboards bounced under the weight of stomping feet.

Or singing aloud to Love Shack on the car radio on the way to the beach.

This was what we wanted. To be young again. Just for a couple of hours.

We missed the first support act, Mental as Anything, which didn't bother me. The Proclaimers were up next and delivered a solid 45-minute show, featuring all the hits (I think they only had three). These blokes are more Scottish than Scotland. Are they identical twins? The highlight was a rousing audience sing-along of 500 Miles.

The B52s rocked onto the stage at around 9.30pm. The first thing we noticed was the sound. It was friggin' loud and, to my sensitive ears, sounded like a chainsaw competing with a jackhammer.

It felt about 50 decibels louder than the Proclaimers. And the bass was almost too painful to bear. It shook up my innards like a milkshake.

Not a good start.

To make matters worse, as the second song reached its crescendo one of the two female singers, Cindy (the one with the blonde beehive), suddenly left the stage.

This threw everything into disarray, with the two remaining singers - Fred and Kate - having to improvise while they waited for Cindy's return. But she didn't come back.

So, the show went on with Kate doing a bloody sterling job, while Fred looked like he'd rather be anywhere than the Enmore.

The room warmed up when the band launched into the old favourites Roam and Planet Claire. The highlights were, of course, Love Shack and Rock Lobster.

However, our dancing was curtailed by the security people who wouldn't let us stand up in our seats (we got up and danced anyway towards the end - Miss Hissy needs to know that sometimes it's OK to challenge those arseholes who wield the 'this-is-the-rules' stick).

As the show came to an end, the guitarist Keith thanked us all and explained that Cindy was dehydrated. I think the band was just grateful there hadn't been a riot, though some disgruntled punters walked out during their performance.

I suppose the moral of this story is to not seek where you know deep down you will surely not find.

The B52s looked just as old and tired as the audience. Maybe it's time to retire to the Bahamas guys?

PS: Miss Hissy still had fun - especially after I plugged her ears with tissues and bought her a $50 T-shirt featuring a picture of a youthful B52s.

Dawny to Cockatoo Swim done and dusted

Around 100 bushfires burnt throughout NSW and the temperature soared, but for the crowd gathered at the Dawn Fraser Pool in Balmain this morning, it was all about the swim.

There was a strong turnout for what is officially acknowledged as the first Sydney ocean swim of the 2009/10 season. This has a lot to do with the growing popularity of ocean swimming. I think lots of people in mid-life crises (such as myself - in my case, the crisis is ongoing until death) are deciding a 2.3 km dip in the harbour is the way to go.

As a result, there's lots of older blokes and 'women of a certain age' taking up ocean swimming as a hobby. It beats scrapbooking.

Balmain Water Polo Club organised the gig like clockwork, with the 1.1 km swimmers heading off from the wharf outside the pool just before 9am. The 'over-56 years' boofy blokes - who look as though they drink like fish, but they also swim like fish - went off first.

I was in shortly after the old codgers.

In summary: it was fun. Visibility in the water was zilch, but I didn't even think about bull sharks as I ploughed out to the first buoy in front of Cockatoo Island.

A larger jelly blubber caromed off my goggles as I swam through hundreds of smaller single-celled creatures. I thought it would feel yucky, but in their element the jellies felt silky and soft, not slimy.

I enjoyed swimming around the island and, out of the corner of my goggles, spotted the Sydney Harbour Bridge and CentrePoint Tower in the far distance.

My dad (old codger in bottom pic), in the role of support person, estimated my time to be around 46 minutes. Fingers crossed for when the results go up next week.

The next challenge is Coogee - if the swell isn't too formidable for this chicky babe who wears the 2009 Mollymook swim as a bloody, battered badge of honour.