Hey MONA, ooh MONA!

I’m well known to be a lover of culture, so today I hung around inside MONA. No, I don’t mean the chick from last night, I’m talking about Hobart’s Museum of Old and Modern Art. Yeah, I know, there’s a few extra letters in there, but who gives a shit? Let’s get into it.

They make the Bort number plates here

The ferry up to the museum is wonderful, and provides a great view over the city. It’s a $20 return trip and worth every cent, as the boast trundles through the outskirts of the city, past mountains and factories, under bridges and along beautiful waterways. I thought I was on the drugs when I discovered that there aren’t any seats on the boat, and we had to sit on sheep. Our New Zealand friends would have a field day.

Don’t be sheepish!

Once inside, I was treated to a range of exhibits stranger than a drug addict’s daydream. Forget boring paintings and crap sculptures, MONA has some truly wacky stuff on display. A television woman did a lot of screaming:

Shut up!

Another woman had an amount of fun with a sex toy:

You’d fuck her

There was a wall of Asians:

That’s the way we all became the Nguyan Bunch!

There was a car that needs to lay off the fucking pies:

Ben will never be the same

Some chick conversed with a donkey (but didn’t bang it, sadly):

“Greg, you’re such an ass.” “Sally, you’re such a fucking slut.”

I had mouth sex with a giant head:


And a strange range machine mentioned my high school maths teacher:


I’m not a huge fan of museums. I’ve walked past some of the best ones in the world, but MONA is a lot of fun and definitely worth checking out. The boat ride there is breathtaking, the exhibits are weird and wonderful, and it makes for a really good and different day out.

From there we me up with Mick and Katri, who took us on a walking tour of historic Battery Point… with a few stops at the local watering holes. After a few drinks at Hobart’s world famous casino, it was off to the New Sydney Hotel for dinner. The food there is delicious, but it’s also pretty wanky. There’s a lot of pulled pork and quince past and stuff like that on the menu, but Ben was happy because he got to have another couple of Dagwood Dogs. He loves the bloody things. I reckon he would live on them if he got the chance.

At this point, he’s more dog than man

The beers were going down so well (alright, the chorizo and plum beer tasted like shit, but the rest were beaut), se we ended up heading back home and drinking until 3:30am. Which is why this blog post is a day late, and I still feel like a pile of warmed-up dog turds. At this rate, I’ll have to carry my liver back to the mainland in a bloody shopping trolley.

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