We are the cheese

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This, my friends, is a desperate attempt at fooling the senses into thinking they’ve found Swiss cheese. Do not try this unless you have a victorinox knife.
We’ve spent quite a few weeks here in Maroochydore, soon heading back to Alice for an outback adventure with JM’s dad who will arrive shortly from Switzerland (hopefully bearing smuggled fondue). We’ll be showing him around the red centre for a month before embarking on our first indigenous community volunteer project.
Besides cutting holes in his cheese, JM has delighted me with the following banter:
Talking about good and evil on “Alias”:
“The show reflects us, exaggerated in a way in that we don’t kill people.”
Our neighbor plays lame Robby Williams songs at disco levels and upon seeing JM approach says, “if it bothers you I can’t help you”:
“Good on you, mate. See you in the morning. Early.”
Farts:
“I am a wind instrument!”
Talk about cutting the cheese…

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