I’ve lived in Adelaide pretty much my whole life. Except for those six years when I travelled around the country for my radio career. I’m not going to lie, I did love my time living on the Sunshine Coast and in Melbourne, but Adelaide is my home; it will always have my heart.Because only someone who grew up in South Australia would understand the following; 1. You’ve almost died on the Britannia Roundabout. 2. You’ve never posed for a photo with the Malls Balls. But, you have with the brass pigs outside the Myer Centre. 3. You’ve said, “How small is Adelaide!” about 20 thousand times, but you hate when someone from interstate says it. 4. You’ve driven down Victoria Avenue in Unley and picked out which house you’d live in WHEN (not IF) you win the lottery. 5. You’ve never been to Kangaroo Island, but you tell all your interstate friends how good it is. 6. When you meet someone for the first time, it takes less than a minute to ask, “So which school did you go to?”
7. You’ve driven past Peter Van the Party Man 5000 times, but never been in. (It looks great, I will go in there one day!) 8. You’ve walked over to Granite Island 100 times and every time you get there you think, “What the hell is there to do here?” So you walk back again… And get a hot cinnamon doughnut. 9. You think you discovered a secret, free parking spot in the CBD. (Lawn Bowls Club opposite Prince Alfred College). 10. You’ve driven past Virginia on your way to Gawler and made a vagina joke. Image credit : Virginia WikiYou still call The Beachouse, Magic Mountain. (b) You heard (and spread) a rumour that there was a razor blade found on one of the Magic Mountain water slides. But, nobody knows where the rumour came from. 12. You’ve climbed Lofty and lied about the time you did it in. 13. You get annoyed when interstaters call Adelaide, “Radelaide”. But, you’re allowed to. 14. When talking about Adelaide in the ‘90s, Dazzleland is the first thing you think of.
15. You’ve walked down Rundle Mall with your head down, so you don’t bump into someone you know. 16. You’ve been drunk in the back of a taxi and made the driver take you through Macca’s on West Terrace. 17. You’ve walked from Hindley Street to Rundle Street… then back again at 3am. 18. You’ve lined up at the Port Elliot Bakery. 19. You went on an excursion to Bolivar Sewage Plant and complained about how foul it was, for the next 20 years. 20. You secretly know that Peter Combe is so much cooler than The Wiggles. 21. You hate how east-coasters pronounce their “A”s as “E”s. They pronounce Ellen as Alan and Alcohol is Elcohol. 22. You went on a date to the Ice Arena and thought you were so hot when your fave song came on while you were skating. 23. In your early 20s, Moseley Square is the BEST square in Adelaide. In your 30s, it’s always Henley Square. 24. Half your family is Port and the other half is Crows. 25. When you mark a footy you say, “Modraaaa!”
26. You used to listen to Paul, Amanda and James on SAFM. 27. You don’t know the difference between Wakefield Street, Pirie Street, Grenfell Street, Flinders Street and Grote Street. 28. You love the parklands (they’re so pretty) but you wouldn’t dare walk through them. 29. You’ve sent FruChocs to your Adelaide friends living overseas. 30. When interstaters come to visit, you take them to Hahndorf and wonder why you don’t go there all the time. 31. If anywhere takes longer than 15 minutes to get there, it’s too far away. 32. Every time you go to Mt Lofty Botanic Gardens, you say, “This is so beautiful, I need to come here all the time!” But you don’t because it’s too far. 33. You think “Clipsal” is just a car race and you’ve spent most of March (for the last 16 years) complaining about the Clipsal traffic. 34. Nobody is quite sure how to pronounce Nairne. 35. When going to the movies on Rundle Street, you always get the Palace and Nova Cinemas mixed up, and go to the wrong one EVERY.
36. When someone says, “Popeye”, you don’t think of the cartoon. You think of the boat on the Torrens. 37. You learnt to ski at Mount Thebarton. 38. You’ve eaten a pie floater, while you were drunk, outside the Casino. 39. Because of the way you pronounce, “DANCE”, you’ve been asked, “Which part of England are you from”? 40. You’ve carried a ‘boom box’ to Sky Show.News from the BHF Contact the Press Office Our Hands-only CPR advert is returning to the screen as you’ve never seen it before – in LEGO. The life-saving advert has been recreated in LEGO and shows Vinnie Jones demonstrating how to perform ‘Hands-only CPR’ – hard and fast compressions in the centre of the chest to the beat of the Bee Gees Stayin’ Alive. The new version of the advert will be broadcast during the break in ITV’s Dancing On Ice on Sunday 9 February. It will be shown along with three other advertisers as part of the World’s first LEGO ad break.
Why Hands-only CPR is important People can survive an out-of-hospital cardiac arrest but only if they receive immediate CPR, but unfortunately this doesn’t happen in the majority of cases in the UK. Chest compressions with rescue breaths will continue to be part of gold standard CPR. But untrained bystanders who want to help in an emergency should carry out Hands-only CPR when someone has collapsed with a cardiac arrest. Nick Radmore, our Head of Social Marketing, said: “The original ad with Vinnie Jones has already saved the lives of over 40 people. We hope that LEGO Vinnie will give even more people the know-how to save the life of someone having a cardiac arrest.”Neil Simon's "Brighton Beach Memoirs" leaves little doubt as to why he grew up to be a successful playwright: Everyone in his family talked in dialogue. The movie feels so plotted, so constructed, so written, that I found myself thinking maybe they shouldn't have filmed the final draft of the screenplay.
Maybe there was an earlier draft that was a little disorganized and unpolished, but still had the jumble of life in it.The stage version of "Brighton Beach Memoirs" seemed much more alive than this film. Some of the difference is in the casting of the hero: Jonathan Silverman does not wear as well and is not as infectiously likable as Matthew Broderick, who had the role on stage. But most of the difference, I think, is in the direction.The movie was directed by Gene Saks, who directs many of Simon's plays on both the stage and the screen, and whose gift is for the theater. His plays have the breath of life; his movies feel like the official authorized version. Everything is by the numbers. After we learn that the hero's family always pronounces diseases with a whisper, we know with total certainty that at least one whispered disease will be "diarrhea," and that the joke will be carried on for one disease too long.In "Brighton Beach Memoirs," the first in an autobiographical trilogy by Simon, he remembers his early adolescence.
Still ahead were the uncertain war years of "Biloxi Blues" and the family wars and heartbreaks of "Broadway Bound," his current stage success. Simon tells his story through the eyes of Eugene (Silverman), a kid who seems more like a future go-fer than a future playwright, and whose life is consumed by a great and solemn desire to see at least one naked girl.Eugene lives in a home filled with relatives; not only his parents and an important older brother, but also an aunt and a cousin. In the stage version, I could feel the crowding, the way the overlapping lives within the house raised the family's collective temperature. In the movie, there's no sense of other lives being lived through the walls, and the characters seem to walk on for their assigned material and then evaporate.Nor does the Brighton Beach neighborhood really come to life, despite untold effort spent to dress the street where Jonathan lives.When he leaves home, it's usually to go to Greenblatt's grocery, where his mother sends him several times a day (another standing joke).
On his way there and back, he never seems to encounter anyone except characters specifically involved with the plot. This isn't a Brooklyn teeming with life and excitement; it's a backdrop for schtick.Sometimes the family feels like backdrop, too. Jonathan's mother is intended to be one of the great towering figures of his life, but Blythe Danner doesn't bring much force to the character. Danner proved in "The Great Santini" that she can bring great passion to the role of the mother of a troubled family, but in this movie there seems to be an invisible line she's not allowed to cross, a certain level above which she must not raise her voice. There's that feeling all through the movie - the feeling that a safe middle ground has been established, and that nothing will grow too fearsome, too passionate or too angry. Not long ago I went to a memorial service for Sydney J. Harris, the Chicago Sun-Times columnist, and I heard Saul Bellow remember the adolescence of his best friend. They walked back and forth between their homes, talking late into the night.