The kangaroo mafia

One weekend in a time not so long passed, in a land far away, I head off to Selfridges department store for a bit of sniff around. As best I understand the story, Mr Selfridge - an American - defined department stores as we know them today. Perfume department on the ground floor, lights on at night so that people can see into the store ... I am sure there are other things worth noting but I imagine you have the idea. Anyway, he opens up Selfridges on Oxford St and Oxford St goes on to become one of the world's true shopping Meccas. But that is enough of the history lesson.

En route to the aforementioned ground breaking (and - I must say - really, really large) department store I stop off at an HMV music store, almost directly across from Bond St tube station. I was due to head back to Oz at the time and was hoping to buy a CD for one of my nieces. Unsuccessful at that task, I head out of HMV ... when it happens. In the corner of my eye I see it. Like a vision in the night ... except that it was during the day, of course. I see The Voice, John Farnham, in the pop rack under 'F' (no surprises there, I suppose). And not the current, teddy-bear-with-short-hair John Farnham, but business-up-the-front, party-up-the-back Jon Farnham. Oh, what a treat that was.

This, coincided with my siting of Chicago posters all over the tube stations of London announcing that Tina Arena is the new Roxy. Tiny Tina Arena. Now that was a surprise. Not that I am going to see it. Nothing wrong with our Tina, I will have you know, more that I find Chicago fairly well ... well, boring. If you haven't seen it, let me save you the trouble: it is kind of like Natural Born Killers in tights.

Now all we need is for Paul Hogan the next cameo appearance in the next series of Extras (should there be one) and that will be the completion of a beautiful trifecta.