The Emergency

We held a fund raiser for the Australian bushfires today, and it lit a fire inside of me to write. It's been a long time since this happened, so without further ado, I present to you my (long) poem, entitled The Emergency. 

The Emergency:

Climate cried in pain as her lungs filled with smoke

Rain forests on fire, it's all a big joke

Light up the fire, have a snag and a beer

The climate is not changing, the end is nowhere near

Was plain to see that our earth started ailing

From carbon pumped out, and policies failing

From cool, dark coal, compacted and lumped

Presenting a problem which had everyone stumped:

"What about jobs?" We screamed (in the chasm) to our mates

"Culling jobs for the climate is a huge mistake"

"Greens are commies" - a line the right would soon buy

As temperatures rose, and fire fell from the sky

Earth struggled to keep up, failing to stand by

With each and every fire, she told us we would die

We listened not to her, gave the pollies some more clout

And added to the carnage with more carbon pumped out

"It's the arsonist's fault," was a put-forward theory

Although the sight of charred animals was kind of eerie

Coffers swelled, propping up the board members

All that was left of the forests was embers

It felt insane, our love for this coal

It was like killing the earth was our only goal

It was like a sick game being played

But in the end, it was us who paid

“We must use more gas, we must," was the lie extolled

We listened, and we did; good sheep do as they're told

We'd never worked out what we truly are

But we love a VB at the quiet country bar

Earth fought and fought, and then fought some more

As the humans pulled out even more of her ore

"Save the jobs, save the jobs," we all screamed as one voice

Adani sunk a mine, this was completely our choice

We all laughed with glee, scant regard for our time

We focused on mining, anything for a dime

We neglected our planet, our life-giving earth

With each passing day, a new fire gave birth

But our lungs started burning, more fires, they flared up

Earth's eyes looked at us sadly, just after Melbourne Cup

"What about the jobs," we screamed as our horse finished first

Ignoring their parched throats, the beginning of thirst

As food sources dried up, hunger pangs became real

We said "Let them eat coal" because there wasn't any veal

We tried to melt icebergs to cool down the sea

which was quite foolish, as foolish can be

As the winds got warmer and the air got much thinner

We questioned ourselves, "just who was the winner?"

"We kept all our jobs, so it has to be us"

We thought to ourselves, "so that's a big plus"

But more cyclones struck, and wild weather ensued

It was a real downer, really souring our mood

More people were dying, which was a big shock

Maybe it was time to sit up, take stock

But time is a fickle and strange old thing

Time left us behind, which would really sting

We had our chance and we thoroughly blew it

And now earth was saying, "you know what? Screw it"

Our children got cancer from just being outside

And that's not to mention their friends who have died

The sky was smoky and hot; bright red was the hue

We didn't see this coming, we didn't have a clue

One by one, we each passed away

There was nowhere left for the children to play

No animals to hear, breed, or see

They died before us, before you and me

The deniers outlast us, their old money made good

Boomers, they were called, in strong houses - not wood

But slowly and surely, one by one they all fell

If only that coal was not such a good sell

And with their last breath of good air

Victory laugh, without care

"We won," they cackled, as they fell by the way

"Or maybe not" as their lives ebbed away

And when there were no more people on earth

A strange thing happened: a time of new birth

Life started again, simple at first

For the next generation, who would not be so cursed

There was no clue of problems long passed

Our remains they studied, "They died so fast"

"They were simple," they thought, "Could not live forever"

"Unlike us, for we are so clever"

Anxiety - the unknown battle against the unknown

What you are reading here has never even been shared with my family.

When I was younger, I always thought the words "anxiety" and "stress" were reserved for "old" or "weak" people.

Until I woke up one day and could not go to work for two full days. These days were a Thursday and a Friday, and the attack continued right through Saturday until Sunday. I had never experienced anything like it before.

I felt like if I left my house that I would be:

• Arrested by the police for something I had not done, or
• Be killed by a hijacker, or
• Be attacked by an angry pack of dogs, or
• Be in a train smash.

Of course, all of these were totally and completely irrational thoughts / scenarios. Yet to me, they were BOUND to happen. There was no logical reason for it, but it was real to me. More real than anything else. 

I hid in my house for 4 straight days. I ate Pizza Hut, drank only water, and only left the confines of my bedroom to fetch pizza from the door / smoke outside. That's the extent of my movement for those 4 full days.

The next Monday, I went to the doctor. I felt stupid and weak going to the doctor for something I could not explain. The irrationality of what I had experienced was embarrassing. I thought my doctor would laugh at me, tell me to grow up, or grow a pair. And nothing could be further from the truth. 

She immediately pulled her chair closer to me. She took off her stethoscope, took off her glasses, and moved close. She looked me deep in the eyes, and with a soft, gentle voice, she said to me words that resonate in me to this very day: "You are not alone."

I immediately burst into tears. Laugh if you want, but I was not ready for those words. The power and impact of those words knocked the wind out of my sails, made me let down my defenses, and opened me up completely to what I needed to hear. Four simple words. Heartfelt and genuine. "You are not alone."

She proceeded to ask me a series of questions, and marked these off on a chart. At the end of the questions, she tallied up my answers and told me that I was anxious, and did not have depression, although anxiety could lead to it if left untreated / unsupported. She prescribed a healthier diet for me, more vitamin D (after a blood test) and very mild anti-depressants, which I was only to take half a tablet of when needed. 

I am pretty happy to say that this happened just over a year ago now, and I have only ever had another 3 panic attacks. 

However, one of those attacks happened today, though. It was in response to a situation that had been building for some time that I had not dealt with completely. I went to sleep late last night and woke up super early, excited like a little kid to go to the second day of the Boxing Day test match at the MCG. Anyone that knows me knows that it's my favourite sporting event of the year - I live for my sports and this is the cream of the crop. My wonderful girlfriend had bought her, a friend and I each a ticket to go watch today. 

However, fate had other ideas. A misplaced word and a misinterpreted sentence, and my day spiralled out of control. I had already made us lunch for the day and packed it in the Esky. We had had coffee in bed. We had had laughs in bed, played with the dog in bed. And one simple word, quite suddenly, made me spiral from being on top of the world to wrapped up in the duvet on the bed, wanting to be left apart from the rest of the world. I don't know how it happens, all I know is that it DOES happen. 

As soon as this happened, I messaged my friend to say what was going on. He immediately replied, saying that he understood, and that he was there if I needed absolutely anything. That's what friends do. 

My girlfriend, despite my (fierce and unfair) protests, also decided to give the cricket a skip and stay with me. You know what she did? She climbed into bed with me. She held me. She told me that everything would be alright. And I didn't believe her. But she kept on saying it, over and over again. 

Soon the meds kicked in, I fell asleep, and I woke up feeling far calmer than before. I was feeling more rational, and absolutely nothing had changed. 

I don't know a lot about anxiety, and I don't profess to know anything about what other people go through. I'm not even an expert on what I experience as anxiety. And I don't know how to fix it. My defense mechanism is to shut down, to shut everyone else out, until it's over. And that works for me. Is it the right way? I don't know. I highly doubt it, to be honest. Is it a way that can help someone else? I also don't know.

You see, the scary thing about mental illness is that it differs from person to person, with different triggers and defense mechanisms.

What I want from this article is to address the two types of people affected by anxiety. 

To those with anxiety: hang in there. You are loved, appreciated, valued and important. The world would literally not be the same without you. Hang in there, talk openly to good friends / family, and try to be considerate when they try to help. And get professional help. 

To those without anxiety: there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop an attack when it happens. All you can do is just be with the person experiencing the attack. Just be there for them, be around them, and listen to their irrational fears, because those fears are so real to them, they're reality. Don't fight with them. They need you. 

Remember, you are not alone.

The B(ICC)I bullies

Or are they really bullies?

There has been much vitriol spat the way of the BCCI, CA and the ECB. You can read one of them here: http://kickthestumps.com

However, the purpose of MY article is to look at things purely from the business end of the transformation. 

It's no surprise that India (read: BCCI) are the money-spinners in the cricketing world. They provide valuable funding to "smaller" (read: not wealthy) cricketing nations, one of which is South Africa, current number 1 in the Test cricket rankings. 

Now humour me for a second here, before you get your panties in a knot over this. Imagine that you are a wealthy person. Imagine that you have a product which you are globally dominant in, financially. Imagine that this is YOUR business. Imagine that you spend millions in upskilling new starters to your business. Or that you are just passionate enough about your product that you help smaller companies out, financially, with your product. 

Imagine that you spent millions of dollars on this. What kind of return on investment would you like to receive? After all, whilst cricket is a game to us commoners, it is a business that's being run as well. This business generates billions of dollars of revenue every year. This business is on the global stage, month after month. Your product is known globally, and followed religiously. 

Would you want a larger piece of the pie?I hear crickets chirping. (Sorry, that was a bad pun). But I think you get the gist of what I am saying. You would want return on investment, wouldn't you? You would want to be able to shape the product that you have invested in so heavily. You would want it to grow, whilst at the same time, lining your own pocket. Well, I know I would. I would want to protect my investment. 

And that's just what the BCCI are doing here. They're looking after their product. They're looking after their investment. Yes, cricket belongs to all. But there's no harm in protecting what you've nurtured. 

There are a few things I agree and disagree with in the "draft" proposal. I DO after with the need for a two-tiered test test nation structure. This is much needed in world cricket. What I don't agree with, in the same breath, is that India, England and Australia should be exempt from relegation to the second tier. If you play badly, that's where you should end up. This isn't primary school where you're not allowed to fail, or high school where 30% is an acceptable pass mark. Enough on that. I don't know anyone who differs from this opinion anyway. If you disagree with this, I would love to hear your opinion, but it would be a hard sell. 

Next is the proposal that all ICC events would be held in one of India, England or Australia from now until 2023. Let's just quickly look at a list of "ICC Events", shall we?

We have the ODI world cups. The next one is in Australia already. That leaves 2019 and 2023. One for England (2019), one for India. Is that so unreasonable? All three nations have proven track records if hosting successful cricket events. This is not a major issue, if you look at it from this angle. 

We also have the T20 world cups. Now no offence, but I've fallen in love with the Big Bash League that Australia puts on each year. Each year, there's noticeable growth. Each year, it seems to get better and better. Australia have proven that there more than capable of hosting a successful tournament. ***Disclaimer: I live in Australia*** 

I'm not a big fan of the IPL, but they sure put bums on seats. In not sure what England's Twenty20 attendance figures are, but I'm sure they'll be better attended than South Africa's Ram Slam 20/20 tournament. If you have proof otherwise, please correct me and I'll correct it here, with citation. 

My point with the T20's is that the countries opposed to host them are fully deserving of hosting them. No problems there from my side. 

We have an ICC World Test championship looking. The first one is I be held in England in 2017. The next one is in 2021, and will be hosted by either India. No issues there. Again, the interests of cricket are being looked after here, and these schedules are already agreed upon. 

These are just a few examples of ICC "events" that could be affected by the passing of the proposed reformation. No dramas there, as far as I can see. 

I think we may be getting our proverbial panties in a knot a bit prematurely.

Should you have any issues with this proposal, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Boycott games? Don't be silly. They'll still be broadcast on TV. The best way to show disapproval is to show up at the games with banners, wear black armbands, something that demonstrates how upset you (we) are. 

Ok, ok. So I'm just trying to make you look at things from a different angle. Let me know what you think, friends. 

Please excuse any spelling mistakes I may have made, as this was hastily typed whilst travelling on a train.

Apricot-Mayo Chicken

Now because variety is the spice of life, and I want your lives to be spicy, I am sharing my way of making Apricot-Mayo chicken. 

This is my first attempt at a "foodie" entry, so criticise away. 

Disclaimer: Every family has some or other version of this recipe. This is merely the version of the recipe that I know and that many, many people have enjoyed before. 

Ingredients:

2kg chicken pieces. I prefer drumsticks, but any chicken with a bone will do. Avoid using only wings, as they cook far too quickly and also don't have a lot of meat on them. I wonder why chickens have wings anyway? Perhaps it's an evolutionary thing.

1 bottle of Cross and Blackwell / Nola tangy mayonnaise. It's important that the mayo is tangy, and not too "eggy" or "milky". These are not readily available in Australia and you will have to find a South African outlet / shop online to get this. 

350ml apricot nectar. Not juice. Nectar. Because that's thicker. In South Africa, it's best to use Liquifruit - theirs tastes best. Here in Oz, I've used Berri Apricit nectar and it's quota palatable. 

Robertsons Salt and Vinegar spice. For taste, to taste. Also available in Australia from a South African outlet. 

Garlic and Herb salt. Preferably Robertsons, again, but the MasterFoods one is also quite tasty. For taste, to taste. 

Aromat. It's a chicken seasoning. Again, available from your South African outlet if you're in Australia. For taste, to taste. 

Process:

In a glass casserole dish (I'm cooking for 5 tonight so I doubled up), first empty the bottle of mayo into the dish.

Add the Apricot nectar in with the mayo and whisk until they're both mixed together. There should be no lumps from the mayo. 

Now add a generous amount of the Salt and Vinegar spice, as well as a generous amount of the Aromat and Garlic and Herb salt. I would recommend at least two teaspoons of each, but that's just for taste. As you make this dish more regularly, you will work out what works for you and what doesn't. 

Next, take a photo and send it to me. 

After this, add the chicken in, and let it sit in the sauce you have just made for about half an hour.

Now out the chicken into an oven that has been pre-heated to 180 degrees Celsius. 

After 20 minutes, turn the chicken over in the sauce once. Try to burn yourself whilst doing this as it adds to the reward later on. 

After another 20 minutes, turn the chicken again, and move the chicken to the bottom shelf of the oven. Put the oven on grill. You now need to make sure that the chicken browns from the grill and doesn't turn black. 

Once the once side is grilled brown, turn the chicken over again, let this side grill to perfection.

Now serve on a bed of rice of your choice. I shall not be detailing how to cook rice as you should already know this. 

The end result should look like this:

Enjoy

Ant

Why the Lions will be a force to be reckoned with next Super Rugby season

Let's let that sink in for a bit. When last did we hear that the Lions would be a force to be reckoned with next Super Rugby season? Yes, it was the last time they won the Currie Cup. That was in 2011, when the Golden Lions beat the Natal Sharks 42 - 16. 

Photo courtesy Rugby15.co.za

However, the Lions are the perennial under-achievers of Super Rugby. They have all the talent, coffers that are overflowing with money, and let's face it, as dangerous as it is to go to Ellis Park, it's still a hallowed ground in terms of rugby stadiums. 

The Kings had an amazing season this past Super Rugby season, with a draw against finalists Brumbies and a last-minute win against the Rebels their highlights of the season. Not bad for a debut season. 

However, this post is not to gush about the team who ultimately ended up stone last on the ladder. This post is about what I think we will see from a revitalised Lions outfit who should be celebrating their return to Super Rugby by this weekend. 

What make me think that they're going to be dangerous this season? Simply put, the answer is "The Kings". 

You see, the Kings played out of their skins, and whilst they still ended up rock bottom, the Lions would have learned from that: play with passion, and the wins will come. Do the basics right, and the wins will come. Play the percentages, and the wins will come. Play with belief, back down to no-one, and the wins will come. Play every game like it's a final, and the wins will come. 

In a way, the promotion / relegation debacle, whilst it appears to be negative in terms of gaining sponsorship and the commitment of players, is a massive motivation to not finish last in the South African conference.

And the Lions know what this feels like, and will do whatever it takes to not end up last again. For too long, the Lions knew that they were guaranteed a place in the next year's competition. Whilst that does not mean that they didn't play with all their heart, the consequences of failure weren't severe. Now that the consequences are relegation, I'm predicting that we see a very different, more solid Lions outfit taking the field this next season. And I'm sure they'll have a vastly better season next season than many years before.

Now I'll take a really uneducated guess, and will not rule out the chances of the Sharks having to play a promotion / relegation game in the not too distant future. Bear in mind that I'm a Sharks fan. 

Anyway, watch this space - I think the season off for the Lions may be exactly what they needed to re-ignite the passion. Who knows, perhaps they'll be the next super power of SA Super Rugby?

Edit 05/08/2013: The Kings won over the weekend, but did not obtain the points differential required to keep them in Super Rugby. This writer (and I use that term VERY loosely) had no idea that this was the only time a promotion / relegation match was to be played.

It all seems a bit of a travesty now, really. I'm happy to see the Lions back in Super Rugby, but my heart goes out to the Kings faithful. Look, go win a Currie Cup and prove to all of us that you deserve your place in Super Rugby again.

Are British supporters the best in the world?

This is a piece written without any fact (as with most of the articles on this blog), but based on pure emotion and experience.

British people. They gave us the games of rugby and cricket, I think, and for that I am grateful.

Given the whole blowout over the Stuart Broad didn’t walk incident, I am avoiding that story altogether.

This piece started writing itself in my head on the afternoon of the 25^th of June, as I was on my way home to get my Melbourne Rebels jersey, having been gifted two gold tickets to the already sold-out game.

I was on a tram, heading up to Flinders Street Station, when two old fogeys hopped on board, wearing their Lions Supporters jerseys. They sat opposite me, and eyed me out. As a ginger, I’m used to this. I took a phone call, and I saw them discussing me whilst I was on the call. I am also used to this, as not many people are used to seeing gingers that can string more than a few words together, let alone bark out comprehendible instructions over the phone, as I was doing.

As soon as the call ended, the old man asked me if I am from South Africa. Obviously my accent had given me away. After answering in the positive, we struck up a conversation about rugby, and we became fast friends. They said that the 2009 British and Irish Lions tour in South Africa was the greatest thing they had ever experienced. To this day, I do not know if 2013 exceeded that, as I never saw them again.

At the game on that cold, Tuesday night, the British and Irish Lions supporters easily outnumbered the Rebels fans. Every time we started with a Rebels chant, we were drowned out by the Lions supporters – they created a vibe unlike any I have ever experienced before.

A stand-out feature of the tour, though, on a personal level, was the friendliness of the touring supporters, and their general appreciation of the sport as a whole. There were moments in the game where the Rebels turned over after defending on their own try-line, and as soon as the ball was cleared, the touring supporters applauded the Rebels. This was something new to me; someone applauding the opposition team because they had done something right. Their friendliness in the crowd was also incredible, and we chatted with many of the “opposition” around us. Great people, amazing vibe.

(Photo: Gettys Images)

Fast-forward to two days ago. Cue Ashton Agar and his record-breaking 98 runs on debut for Australia against the English in the first Ashes test.

When he was finally out on 98, agonisingly close to that magical 100, the hearts of Australia, and the world, went out to him. He was a hero. And none were more appreciative that that English Trent Bridge crowd. They stood and applauded that young man, as if he was one of their own.

(Photo: Fox Sports)

It is special moments like these that make me love being a sportsman – the applauding of the British and Irish Lions supporters for the Rebels, the Trent Bridge crowd applauding a young man who almost saved a test on debut.

Whilst we all love to hate British supporters, I firmly believe that they (with the exception of their soccer hooligans) are probably the best supporters in the world.

Two small, seemingly insignificant moments changed this person’s view of the British supporters. And I like that.

The definitive guide to the public gent's bathroom

Yes, you read the title correctly. 

I've noticed of late that, with alarming frequency, blokes are getting the etiquette all wrong when it comes to public restroom usage. 

So, without further ado, my highly-read and much-vaunted blog needs to rectify this situation. 

Is there anything worse, as a bloke, than stepping into the sancuary that is the men's bathroom, needing to relieve oneself, just to have it end in tears because someone didn't respect the rules? No. And I'm glad you agree with me. 

The rules are quite simple, really.

1: Urinal priority.

The rule here, guys, is as follows: ALWAYS choose the urinal FURTHEST from the door. It's that easy. (The guy on the picture above breaks all the rules mentioned here. RIP, guy).

If the urinal furthest from the door is in use, you make use of the urinal FURTHEST away from THAT person, no matter how close it is to the door. After that, the next available urinal that has no-one next to it. Got it? Good.

Next, NEVER stand next to anyone already using the urinal, even if there IS space. You will note that there is always an odd (i.e. not even) number of urinals in public restrooms. This is not done by accident, and neither is it a design flaw. It is done so that there can always be at least ONE urinal between users at all times. It's that simple and not negotiable.

Now, take the example of there not being an available urinal based on the above-mentioned rules. You use the toilet. These are always enclosed in public restrooms and will give you the privacy you require and deserve. The proviso is that if you're only having a wee, that the door remains open. No-one closes the door when having a pee. That's not right. 

I think that just about covers the priority of urinal use. 

2: Urinal courtesy and pleasantries.

No talking at the urinal. Not now, not ever. It doesn't matter whether its your best mate or a random stranger you will never see again. It doesn't matter whether there is the most epic game of sport on, the most ridiculous outcome to a game, or whether his hair is green or purple. NO TALKING AT THE URINAL. Save the chatter for when you are washing your hands. 

Remember to always keep your head down and facing forward, as you point Percy at the porcelain. If you cannot do this, you may lift your head and stare at the wall directly ahead of you. Both of these require you to have an absolutely stern, serious and business-like look on your face. No smiling whatsoever. If there are head-height adverts, study these intensely.

Note: should your eyes ever wander to anywhere other than front and centre, any repercussions arising from this non-conformity are entirely your own fault. Even the police will not investigate assault at a urinal if they hear you did not observe the correct etiquette. Should you absolutely HAVE to acknowledge another person at the urinal, a quick nod of the head shall be tolerated. One nod, it needs to be quick, and that head needs to drop and face forward again.

Should anyone engage you in conversation at the urinal, it is perfectly acceptable to completely ignore them, and for you to hand out repercussions after you are outside the bathroom. It is imperative that if it was your mate that transgressed, that you hand out repercussions and also educate him, so that he does not repeat his mistakes.

Farting whilst such concentration is being exerted is always bound to happen. Should you observe this behaviour by someone else in the bathroom, you shall under no circumstances smile, laugh or acknowledge that the act ever took place. Should you be the one passing wind, you shall carry on as though nothing ever happened. This is never an excuse to look around - refer to the repercussions clause higher up. 

As you approach the end of the act of "siphon the python", an obligatory spit into the urinal will be allowed. If your spit ends up on your chin, your access to this privilege should be immediately revoked by yourself and you should really die in shame. (No dying in the bathroom is allowed, as not only does it disrupt the flow of people through the bathroom, but the authorities will also think that Oscar Pistorius is in town and no ladies will leave their houses - be considerate and die somewhere else.)

Finishing up, a quick shake or two of "Percy" needs to be performed. Note that I said a "shake or two". Not "three". Two. If you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it. And for dog sakes, flush the bloody urinal when you're finished. You don't leave the toilet unflushed at home, so don't do it in public. 

Moving on. 

3: The number two (ironic, the numbering).

A few things here, as well, as people are getting this wrong as well, and this is even more disturbing than getting the urinanary etiquette wrong, guys. 

Unknown to most, having a number two is one of the most traumatic experiences a guy could ever go through. Especially if one has not been able to have a number two for a while, or has been having number twos too frequently in the past few hours. 

Always remember to have respect for fellow users of the toilet. This is especially relevant for the "after the deed" is done time. 

The first thing that needs discussing is the right to anonymity. 

The first trick to anonymity in the toilet is the telephone. We all know you like to tweet / Facebook whilst on the bog. Hell, THIS is a blog from the bog. Do us all a favour and turn your phone on silent. If this is an office toilet and we hear your phone ring, we all know who you are and will never look at you the same again, especially if you had one of those particularly disgusting number twos. You know the one - where you don't know whether the bloke in the stall next to you is going to survive this episode on the loo or not. 

Next, is the grunting. Don't. Just don't. 

After this is the exit process. The aim of this step is to exit the bathroom stall anonymously. The trick to achieving this is, just like driving, by being aware of what is going on all around you. Listen carefully. If someone is busy with the toilet paper, and they were busy with it before you, you wait. It's the priority of the toilet, and deserves the same respect that the urinal gets, possibly more. Once the person in the other stall has left, you're still not in the clear, as they will be washing their hands. Wait until such time as you will not engage them at the wash basins. 

Washing hands with someone who had a pee at the same time as you is acceptable. Washing hands with someone who had a number two at the same time is an absolute no-no, and is considered bathroom sacrilege. You wait until the coast is clear before making a hasty retreat from your bathroom still. 

Oh, and leave the bloody stall clean too. Wipe the toilet seat before you sit down and after you're done. This way, the facilities stay pleasant for everyone else. 

After all is (not) said and done, you end up washing your hands. Always wash your hands. Despite how much you may have thought you don't need to, you do. And you shall. Dry the hands quickly, and alway be mindful that there could be other people waiting for the hand dryer. You can leave with damp hands - you are waterproof. 

That, my friends, is today's pearl of wisdom. This blog will aim to be more informative and socially responsible by publishing articles such as these on a regular basis. 

I'm also wondering if women go through the same pains with public bathroom etiquette? If someone has any insight into this, please link me in the comments or let me know via Facebook or Twitter. 

If I have neglected any known etiquette rules, please let me know and I'll both add them in, acknowledge your contribution and go die of shame outside the bathroom. 

Till next time.

Lovies,

Ant