Friends and family, thank you for being here to help celebrate the birthdays of Claire and me. It means a lot — even if, in the spirit of transparency, we should confess that everyone in our top twenty friends declined their invitations. So, congratulations: you were next on the list, and you’ve done very well to be here.

Now, milestones demand reflection. And after deep contemplation — I’ve realised we’ve all learnt something important today. Yes, we have. And what have we learnt?

Along with Scott Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age classic, The Great Gatsby, and Picasso’s Spanish Civil War protest in Guernica, the compilation album Ripper 76 is among the 20^th century’s most significant and enduring cultural works.

It opens with Howzat by Sherbet — which always takes Claire and me back to being ten — then glides into Billy Thorpe’s It’s Almost Summer. Side 2 kicks off with Love Really Hurts Without You, a song that highlights, alarmingly, Billy Ocean’s problematic bedroom technique.

And then comes the finest poetry ever committed to vinyl: Ah, breaker one nine, this here’s the Rubber Duck/ You got a copy on me, Pig Pen, c’mon?’ Yes — Convoy, by the shadowy truckin’ sorcerer CW McCall.

And finally, the emotional crescendo: 10cc’s I’m Not in Love. Big boys don’t cry, big boys don’t cry — although Claire and I might get on the blub before sunset if Coopers Sparkling and espresso martinis make a brash, unsupervised appearance.

But today isn’t about music. It’s about indulgences — the good ones. Cheese, wine, and conversations about why John Klug not playing more games for the Crows is late capitalism’s most profound tragedy. Those who don’t know who John Klug is are, frankly, proving my point. Shame on you.

While they can’t be here, Claire is deeply appreciative of the love and support shown by Francie and HP. And thanks to Glenelg’s finest takeaway‑pasta employees, Alex and Max, for being here too. Boys, as always, I’m proud to be your dad. Your impossibly attractive, witty, and ridiculously talented dad.

And now, the most important thank you. To my beautiful wife, Claire. Even after five years of marriage, having permission to utter those words still astonishes me. It fills me with gratitude and wonder. You are the best part of every single day. I love you.

So, let’s raise a glass, put on Ego Is Not a Dirty Word by Skyhooks, and enjoy their charmingly antiquated, surprisingly camp tales of 1970s Melbourne suburbia.

Thanks for coming.

Video – Google Photos