Well, if a question was ever asked and an answer ever gibbon then who would we be to stand in the way of our own description? As if by way of miracle we formed like a pavlova out of the chaos and melancholy of an egg white soaked Australian suburbia.

Two fold by two fold by one can we be counted, but to only one name will we respond. Go home tonight and ask your mother about the time of the Binmillion. But be warned that the answer may fall hard and sharply upon soft and untested ears.

To quote one of the great Prime Ministers of our land and times, "Two hits on the bucket bong and a pony for a digger. It’s the little things that keep me erect."

The Team.