Imagine the joy of discussing life's great mysteries or the simple art of cooking a chicken with someone you've never met, whose face you've never seen, whose voice you've never heard.
This is the essence of online anonymity, a digital echo of the old-school phone calls with characters like my very own " Chicken Man. "
In 1997, my phone rang, and a stranger asked me the most unexpected question:
“Do you know how to cook a roast chicken?”
That was the beginning of my five-hour conversation with the man I’ve come to call the Chicken Man.
Read more: The Chicken Man’s Call: Friendship, Roast Chooks, and a Wrong Number
Dusty Gulch Dispatch: Whiskers Remembered – A Follicle-Fueled Fightback Against Feather-Brained Folly
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Special Correspondent
In times of crisis, some towns turn to science. Others turn to faith. Dusty Gulch? We turn to whiskers.
Yes, whiskers. Those humble facial feelers the Good Lord gave cats, rats, and the occasional platypus. Under the right conditions, those bristles become something more - follicles as a force of rebellion against the feather-brained.
It is called Whisker Dynamic Propulsion Theory - WDPT to the initiated, and “that madcap nonsense” to the ducks. But let us not get ahead of ourselves, dear reader.
Last week, many Dusty Gulch citizens mysteriously turned into ducks following Maurice EDuck’s latest decrees.
Read more: Whiskers Remembered – A Follicle-Fueled Fightback Against Feather-Brained Folly
Between the mid-19th and early 20th centuries, more than a hundred thousand British children were sent overseas to countries like Canada, Australia, and other parts of the British Empire as part of what became known as the Home Children programme. This controversial migration scheme, which aimed to provide "better opportunities" for children in poverty, left a lasting imprint on the lives of those involved.
The Home Children programme began in the 1860s as a social experiment aimed at alleviating poverty in the crowded industrial cities of Britain. Many of these children, some as young as three, were either orphans or had been surrendered by impoverished families who could no longer care for them. The programme was supported by philanthropic organisations such as Dr. Thomas Barnardo's Homes and the Church of England Waifs and Strays Society, and was endorsed by the British government.
Other children were told that their parents had died when in fact that was not the case. As they were compulsorily shipped out of Britain, many of the children were deceived into believing their parents were dead, and that a more abundant life awaited them. Some were exploited as cheap agricultural labour, or denied proper shelter and education. It was common for Home Children to run away, sometimes finding a caring family or better working conditions.
The Battle of Britain ended on 15th September, 1940 but the Blitz continued long after that. Following the evacuation of Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain a wealthy American living in London persuaded the government to form an RAF squadron composed entirely of Americans.
This is their story.
When war broke out on 3rd September, 1939 there was no mad rush of support for the causes espoused by Britain or for Poland and other occupied European countries. Americans were very much of a mind to remain out of any European war. There was no universal feeling of kinship towards Britain and there was, in fact, quite a lot of sympathetic support for Hitler.
The second most common language spoken in the USA at the time was German and to cap it all the Neutrality Act prevented any engagement, let alone involvement, by Americans with any belligerent country. That included Britain and France as well as Germany.
Amongst all that however, there was a core of sympathetic support for Britain and an eagerness by those who had learned how to fly to enter the fray. Among the various means of getting around the rigours of the Neutrality Act was to cross the border into Canada and proceed from there.
Read more: The Eagle Squadrons: Friends Indeed in Time of Need
In an age of glowing screens and fleeting texts, something precious has quietly slipped away: the letter. Once, entire lives were poured into envelopes - love confessions, battlefield farewells, business dreams, simple reassurances. Letters carried permanence, patience, and poetry. Today, we trade that depth for speed: a thumbs-up emoji instead of a paragraph, an “u ok?” instead of pages of care.
The Hallmark series Signed, Sealed, Delivered (also known as Lost Letter Mysteries) captures this beautifully. Its quirky, unapologetically “nice” postal detectives uncover the stories behind undelivered letters... no sex, no swearing, no violence, just hearts and stories. It reminds us that even now, in an age of instant messaging, a letter can change everything.
When you hold a letter, you hold more than words. You hold the slowness of thought, the imprint of a hand, the hope of reply. A letter can be read and re-read, its meaning deepening with every return.
Read more: The Lost Art of Letters: A Lament in the Digital Age
As young folk, didn't some of us feel like rebels without a cause?
I am 70. In my era, some of us chose to follow Greenpeace. Others chose anti Vietnam war. Still others embraced the feminist ideology and some the allure of socialism and communism. For myself, I never really embraced a cause. I was too busy enjoying life. But I was always a bit of a black sheep.
Terribly stubborn. Opinionated and very determined in my views on what was black or white or right from wrong. Poor Redhead still tries to rein me in but alas, she hasn't been successful thus far. At 93, you would think she would give up trying, but she tells me " I am still your mother. "
Bugger. She is right of course but in all fairness, I do attribute good parenting to the fact that she now has three geriatric offspring who tend to be a pain in her arse because we won't do as we are told. Let me explain.
Read more: From Jim Stark to Charlie Kirk: The Quest for Meaning
As our countries are collapsing under the weight of wokeism, social and communist ideology, who else is looking for a leader to fight back? I know that I am. As has been the case in all times of humanity's struggle against oppression and totalitarianism, all it takes is one man, one voice, one leader.... and the troops will rally.
" Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilisation. Upon it depends our own .... life, and the long continuity of our institutions..... The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. .... But if we fail, then the whole world will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties..... men will still say, "This was their finest hour." - from Winston Churchill ( excerpt)
When the world gets grim, you’ve only got two choices: crack up or crack apart.
After days of heavy headlines and the suffocating weight of politics and history, sometimes the wisest thing we can do is pause, pour a cuppa, and remember to laugh. Yet I suspect many have gone past that point.
Australia has always been a country of people who crack up, crack a tinny, crack a joke, and move on. But even we are weary of watching our nation and our world crack apart.
Today I want to talk about the birth and death of humour - how the left lost what little they had, and how humour itself has shifted. Because when laughter dies and mockery takes over, humanity has lost its soul. And sadly, too many governments are legislating joy out of our lives.
Read more: The Death of Laughter: Can a Humourless World Survive?
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Special Correspondent (still in hiding)
There are times in a rat’s life when you wonder if scratching a pencil in a wombat burrow matters at all. Whether your words rise to the surface - or sink into dust with the town above. But this time, against all odds, someone heard me. With a purloined Starlink dish strapped precariously to the CWA hall roof before its members were fully duckified - my message got through.
And someone answered.
When we speak of Ukraine and Russia in the 1930s, we are speaking of lands under Stalin’s Soviet regime - not the independent nations they are today.
It was this regime that forced millions of farmers to surrender their land in 1929. This was not a natural disaster, but a man-made catastrophe - engineered to crush resistance and bend people to the state.
Three cases, scattered across three eras, warn us that unless law remembers its duty to serve justice, not just authority, Australia and other countries, will keep reliving the same tragedy.
The stories of Max Stuart (1959), Ned Kelly (1878–1880), and Dezi Freeman (2025) span more than a century, yet they converge on a single truth: whenever law and justice are prised apart, destruction follows.
The accused suffer, communities fracture, and the authority of the state corrodes.
Was each man’s fate determined less by fact than by the way power was wielded: through provocation, bias, and suppression?
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