Bringing Frenchy Back!

Every where I look these days one minority or another is crying out for acceptance, more rights and a 400k + bonus to ease the pain of being a pioneer in whatever the fuck you kids are getting into these days. I don’t wanna come off as some kind of hater or anything, truth be told its quite the opposite.

I feel these days im as pro choice as they come, dude wants to kiss a dude: you go for your life, 2 chicks getting married: hey, strangely hot. 4 guys decide to experiment with 2 girls a swing set and an Emu: look, I dont care. As far as im concerned your business is none of my business, live long and prosper. Just don’t bug me with it whilst I’m watching my cartoons. The whole Idea of me not caring means I’m not fussed what your doing but I sure as shit don’t want to hear about how hard it is to support your own decisions.

Pro choice-ism is the name of the game here people, possibly just a nice way of saying I don’t give a fuck-ism or I found myself a nice sweet spot on this fence here and I ain’t gonna move-ism.

Regardless of whether there is any substantial evidence to Pro choice-ism’s credibility as actual dialogue, there is however a defining moment one has with ones self when faced with reality and blessed with the knowledge that you are in fact, not the be all and end all of life as we know it.

“Hey self, what’s new?”

“Oh hey man, not much.”

“You wanna hear something crazy that I…”

“Sorry, im gonna have to stop you right there.”

“What!? Why?”

“Did you know that you are one smoking hot motha fucka, I mean hot damn.”

“You think so?”

“I know so!”

“Well thank you self, but may I continue?”

“Sure, I guess. Just as long as you know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That shit son you got it goin on, wooooohoooo.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“You know it!”

“So you wanna know what I learnt today?”

“You bet your sweet Ass I do?”

“Did you know not everybody thinks like us?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know all these other people we see walking around.”

“You mean the ugly ones?”

“Yeah, turns out none of them thinks like us.”

“What?”

“I know! apparently there is this thing called self perspective which is basically an outworking of ones up bringing and personal circumstances.”

“No shit”.

“And from that flows things like opinions and beliefs. Which couldn’t possibly be the same, because everybody has had different shit happen to them which altar’s their thinking, which is based from their up bringing, which is unique in the first place.”

“Well that’s just amazing, that’s what that is!”

“You said it!”

“………………”

“………………”

“So you wanna get some pizza?”


As necessary as all this is, there are some who will spend their whole life with not so much as an after thought of it. Studies have shown contributing factors such as religion and/or trailer parks play major roles in the almighty powers of ignorance, causing an individual to be stuck in that primary school mentality that we have all enjoyed at one stage of our junior years, in which it was perfectly acceptable nay justified for one complete stranger to call another complete stranger an idiot or evil just for the shear satisfaction of it all.

For the rest of us though, such imperative random abuse should now only be reserved for animals and ugly children, better to lock your sights on less repercussions by saving your frustration for those that cant legally defend themselves, lest bare the consequences of something like a male anatomy themed parade filled with naked people who dance freakishly well!.…..cause that would just be darn right nutty.

From the other side of the coin however, whenever you take on the norm you have to expect some kind of opposition, at the very least to the degree of what level of anti norm your shooting for. Honestly to expect otherwise would be nothing short of naive. something about with every force there is an equal and opposing force, Im no physicist but I do believe Mr Newton got it right with that third law of his and in my opinion the expectation of smooth sailing would be just plain ignorant. You gotta take the good with the bad besides Just because a few people don’t understand you, doesn’t mean the whole world is against you! Though it might be, I don’t know, I missed the last meeting.

In light of all of this, much to the amusement of those whom I surround myself with from day to day, I have taken an unnecessary liking to one particular item of clothing and have made it my very own personal vendetta to see its time live again. I love my beret, God help me I really do. More oval then round and without the girly little tip on the very top, my black beret is as much a part of me as it was to Che Guevara.

Granted it’s a risky maneuver so you have to play your cards exactly right to pull it off, for example always wearing matching clothes and at all times have the right angle tilted on that bad boy for maximum effect.

Behold the glory of it, bask in its greatness. Dwell in the presence of its awesomeinity For when you gaze upon it, you are not just seeing the past become present, oh no! you, my friend are staring at the future. Im bringing it back, oh yes! I’m gonna bring that motha back if it’s the last thing I do.

Much easier said than done!

Bringing it back however requires much more work then I first anticipated, advertising is a bitch and believe you me its not all cat walks and Chanel parties Its isolation and its pain. A never ending abyss of torment and ridicule to which all that seemed trusted is withered away leaving only mourning for what once was. Never again will I under estimate the power of anti conformity. lesson learned, communism is alive and well in the fashion industry. You wanna know why those puncy little Emo’s are always so upset, if something as minuet as a beret can cause incident, these fuckers are walking around in vampire costumes and shit, no wonder the little bastards cut themselves.

I feel for you my brothers, well maybe not quite! but I do have some advice: Through thick and thin one must endure the trials and tribulations set before him and press on to receive the prize. you gotta be sold out for the cause or else you aint gonna make it. Through blood, sweat and tears hold on for dear life, stray but a little and you will fail conceding your efforts as little more than a cry for attention……Well that and take the knife away from your fucking arm, your heart has not been raped, its not all about you!!

I received a call from James late-ish last Saturday, there were loud voices battling with loud music in the back round. It was hard to get a trace on their position but it was pretty much a guarantee that they were on the move. Before I could even get a word in he began shouting as to avoid both turning the music down or me not hearing his declaration.

“Dude! Jazz, The Basement. Woooooooh!, be at yours in 10.

“Can you make it 30, I just got home from..”

Argh! what the f…one more time Grant, just one more time and I swear im gonna fucking….Beep.

The basement is located in a side alley in Circular quay and is renowned for its groove, so I figured it was a pretty good time to market my line of head wear. I wasn’t really in the mood for a big night, but I am always up for some Jazz so I wasn’t going to argue the idea.

Aprox 40 mins later Kim's car rocked up Grant, Tim and Lisa in the back with James riding shotgun, for those that are counting that’s a full car. Opening the rear door released an amplified wave of yelling mixed with Dave Mathews belting out of all speakers. I squeezed myself into the already over populated back seat avoiding rubbing and being rubbed up as much as physically possible.

As I struggled to wedge myself into a dignified spot, James reached for the volume control as he swivelled around to inform me of his inspiration for the night, however as he turned his facial expression changed hinting that he had spontaneously changed what he was about to say.

“God damn it! again with the hat. You’re killing me man.”

“ What!? come on, this looks good and you know it, Im telling you Jim its coming back ”

“Irrelevant, every time man! every time you wear that thing. your like a magnet for random fire, its almost like your walkin around with no pants on or sumthan and who am I? i’ll tell you who I am, im the guy buying drinks for the guy with no pants on and how does that score? Not well my friend, not fucking well at all.

“Would you like me to take off my pants James! is that what your saying? Cause if that’s what your saying, you can just come right out and say it.”

“God What is it with you and your pants, its always about your pants isn’t it. seriously every time we talk dude we some how manage to get back to the pants and the lack there of, just once I'd like to sit down and have a nice conversation that doesnt involve male nudity, I think it would be a healthy change of pace for us, what do you say sport can you deal with that.”

“I think it looks good.” A voice cutting in from the drivers seat.

“Yeah, Word!”

“Kim, do you want me to go through the whole pants metaphor again”

“So I thought you said 10 mins. What up!”

“Yeah, we got some donuts on the way, it is Jazz night after all. Here.”

I failed to see the connection, but as he passed me half a box of double glazed, it began to matter less and less. We arrived at the Basement with a half hour till midnight to spare. Everything was already in motion a 6 piece band complete with a trumpet and a saxophone were in all definition rocking the joint, most tables were free on account of all the hippen and a hoppin going on stage side to which Tim and Lisa almost immediately disappeared into the crowd to join the masses whilst the rest of us set up camp at one of the tables. James dealt out some cigars like playing cards explaining “Jazz needs Cigars” I suppose it was irrelevant that we can't smoke inside anymore but it didn’t seem to stop his enthusiasm. He tucked his inside his inner jacket pocket and with that was off for first rounds. Returning with 4 scooners and a “Jazz needs alcohol” as he placed them down on the allocated coasters.

Several rounds had gone bye and somewhere in between Tim had returned Lisa less. I muscled up to retrieve next round and made my way to the bar. Watching the band I began to zone out, swaying and moving to their beat. Don’t know what it was, the music, the booze, maybe I was just tired, I know not. What I do know though, is that those cats had me feeling alllllll right!

3 maybe 5 minutes past when I was awoken from my trance by a tap on the shoulder. I slowly turned my head and greeted the tapper with a jolt of my head in an upward direction. There stood a medium sized man with bleached blond hair, in a white short sleeve t shirt his neck covered with a darkish scarf standing hands on hips, noticeably pushing his ass to one side.


“I like your hat” he snickered with a deceitful grin on his face.

Careful self he’s trying to trap you!

“Mhmm” I replied whilst handing the bartender a twenty.

"I had no idea we were back in the French revolution?"

And there it is.

“Mhmm” I replied whilst scooping up the drinks, again trying not to engage the conversation.

He had his own little posse of 2 guys seconding his every sentence with their ooohh’s and “oh ho, snap’s” which wasn’t as effective as it was agitating which come to think of, maybe that made it effective…Fuck.

“You know I was thinking of getting one of those big Napoleon hats with the feather and stuff but there just so darn hard to find maybe you could get me one when you go back to your little hat store.”

“Mhmm,Im sorry do I know you.”

No…and you never will” (backup choir)“ooooohh burn”

“Then why the fuck are we talking?” I questioned as I turned from facing the bar to facing him with the full intention of a cool strutting exit.

“Aha well played self. you sexy son of a bitch.”

The change in my approach through him off just a little but not soon after he rebutled with a:

“hey heres an idea why don’t you just leave the fashion to us hmm hows that sound”

Whilst this hate crime was being carried out James had decided to investigate after seeing a conversation developing which was clearly coming in between him and the consumption of his beer.

“What the hell man. Jazz needs alcohol! James needs alcohol….he paused for a second stared at me, then stared at the heckling choir and repeated…. Jazz and James need alcohol. So where’s the beef!”

“No beef, I was just telling your friend here to leave the fashion to us?”

James shot a look to me with all the expression of “No pants, its like no pants.” We both knew what he meant by the “us” in that sentence though neither of us was prepared to go there.

“Us? you mean like the, we hate hats anonymous club. how could he do that. then no one would get to wear any hats. then what the fuck are we gonna do in the summer to shield our faces? Huh! what then? Use a magazine… our hands, fuck that.
He smirked a little and continued…

“we’d be all red and shit, Now Im thirsty but rest assured see that guy over there” as he pointed to the bartender “That’s his under study, he’ll listen to all the hat discrimination you can conjure up mmkay……...mmkay”

And with that he took his beer out of my hands and we made our way back to the tables.

(Me in the back round chanting “Woooooh wooooh burn bitch woooh!!” ha not really I fought the urge.)


There was a delayed reaction and a yelling of something but it was hard to make out over the loudness of the music. I strolled over to my chair and dropped as if exhausted by irritation. Grant was smiling! I don’t know why, probably because he's a dick, Kim gave me a punch on the shoulder whilst asking un sympathetically:

“what’s up with you.”

I took a large mouth full of my beer and stared aimlessly into the wall across the room. James began to explain only to be interrupted.

“What the hell was that!?”

A slight pause struck the table with all except me grinning like obese children.

“I mean who the fu..? why the..? what the hell.”

James withdrew his cigar from his jacket pocket and bit down on the tip.

“The queen’s got a point man”

“Fuck off he does, his wearing a skin tight t-shirt with a scarf, a scarf??? , Its like 30ºC, Fuck him.”

“wait wait wait“ Grant interceded “you mean to tell me that even the dudemiester in the scarf thought you looked like a dick“

I acknowledged his comment with a sad drop of the head. Grant burst into tears of joy.

“Oh dude, im gonna go ahead and get you another drink”

“Im telling you the whole worlds gone to hell, people can were there pants around there ankles and its cool, giant hubcap belt buckles on skin tight white jeans that you have to use a jigsaw to cut the bastards off and you get stylish, but NOOO I cant look like a french men if I want. You know the French have more sex then the Dutch have pot.”

“But dude, no one likes the French”

“I like the French”

“but no one cares what you think”

“Yeah, Well no one cares what you think”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant”

“ You…but….I….Screw you man Im bringing it back”

“And so you shall, but not tonight co-chief. Not tonight”


It seems to me the majority of people couldn’t really care less whether Xenu is your homeboy or if you smoke pole for a living or even if you are just one big giant pole in a scarf, however wearing a beret is entirely much more freedom that any man really needs. "you sir, have the right to vote and the right to carry a firearm but I just gotta ask, what the fuck is that on your head?"

Apparently there is a line and wearing a beret sends you sailing majestically right over that Bi-atch. I guess some shit is just to serious to fuck with.

In the grand scheme of things I suppose it really doesn’t matter Noah had his critics too and you know what happened to them…Their DEAD ass hole, down to the very last wise ass, floating face down in a sea of there own comedic genius.

Screw you guys, I’m Bringing it Back, you'll see!