Do you want a laugh? NSW Premier Nathan Rees has introduced a list of guidelines regarding the issue of binge drinking that takes place within the state that will make your sides split!

As of Tuesday (2/12) 48 pubs across NSW, with the majority being based in Sydney, must comply with the new restrictions that include lockouts between 2am and 5am. That doesn't sound so draconian, but others include: after midnight drinks cannot be served in glass or plastic containers, meaning they'd presumably be served in paper cups. Hilariously, after 12pm each pub has to introduce 'ten minute time-outs' where no alcohol is allowed to be served for the aforementioned duration for every hour they remain open.

Can you imagine punters' responses? Not only are our civil liberties being quashed (if you pop out for a fag after 2am you're not allowed back in. That doesn't affect me, but still...), but we are being treated like children in the process. I will inform you if Rees sees fit to introduce a game of pass the parcel or perhaps musical chairs to appease the punters during the 'ten minute time-out'.

In all seriousness, what does he hope to achieve with these rules? Others include the banning of shots after midnight (perhaps a good think seeing as glass is banned. What would they serve them in, eggcups?), a limit of four drinks per person, and no alcohol is allowed to be served 30 minutes before closing. Yeah, Mr Rees, people aren't going to binge drink prior to midnight to make up for your ridiculous rules, are they? Moreover, now that the problem pubs lockout from 2am - 5am every pissed punter will descend onto the streets. Call me cynical, but that's a recipe for disaster; Rees and his Labor party are on the way out of NSW, but he seems hell bent on taking Sydney with him.

Politics aside, I have moved in with Lysey this week. Living with a lass is a new one on me, but I think we'll both be ok. Lysey also shares with a housemate, and because it's not 'our space' I was initially concerned about being myself, but I have since chilled out and things seem to be going great. I help out around the house, too; because it's a rented place I cannot perform 'macho chores' such as painting, wallpapering or fence erecting, but I am a dab hand at taking the rubbish out and washing up.

We haven't put a time frame on my stay, which is ideal as all the hostels are now selling out for the festive period. Also, because of my money situation, I cannot afford to go solo once more, but once I am back on my feet we'll assess the situation. As it currently stands, though, things are great and I am liking my new digs.
Unlike a few of previous homes (and I include the hostel) Lysey's place does not have Fox, meaning I have to wake even earlier than normal for the football. Luckily, there is a 24-hour bar in the middle of Sydney (not one on Ree's hit list) that shows virtually every game, and I have made it my adopted home for all forthcoming football fixtures, including Tottenham's midweek game against Watford. Seriously, I looked a bit of a deadbeat knocking on a pub door at 6.40am to get access. Indeed, one of the cleaners wasn't going to let me in as he thought the pub was due to open at 9am. Usually placid in my mannerisms, his attitude and answers enraged me somewhat, so by this time I was looking even more of a deadbeat to every passing waif and stray.

After the cleaner answered I wedged my foot in the door so he couldn't shut it. All I wanted was to sit and watch the football, which they were advertising. He soon backed down and seeked the manager who agreed to let me in. After a coke or two, plus a good result, I soon settled down and no one heard a peep from me for the duration of the game. The main reason why no one heard a sound from me was because I was the only person watching the game. Still, I will be back tomorrow for the West Ham match (9/12).

Aside from taking pleasure of being the only person in a pub, I went to Global Gathering (30/11) where I was joined by some 9,999 other people. Paying homage to a dance festival has been long over due (my last such trip was back in England, but I have been to many a freebie here in Australia) and I managed to make the most of it; the sun was beating down on all of us in attendance and I managed to get panda eyes from not removing my glasses whilst taking in Sasha, Kraftwerk and Fischerspooner.

Kraftwerk provided a lights and lazer show that would have been fitting in a contemporary art gallery. I was surprised at how many people were clued up on the German foursome, and they themselves were worthy of the admission fee of $125. The major criticism, however, was the decision to host the event on a Sunday. I have never known an event of this magnitude to be held on a school night, and as a consequence it seemed that the crowd were a little reserved. Moreover, with only 10,000 people in attendance, it also suggests that some were put off altogether. Nevertheless, I had a great time, and it would be no exaggeration when I tell you that I was a mess the following day at school.

Because of our pending trip to New Zealand in early 2009 (it could be a little later than previously thought due to the credit crisis. We're now looking at March as we're awaiting openings for Lysey) I have to seek a work visa, much like I did when I was back home for my trip to Australia. Unlike England, however, I failed in my attempts in getting some third party to do all the leg work for me. Back home I went to the STA Travel Company and they arranged everything for me, but because Kiwi's and Aussies live in such proximity neither natives from the respective countries require work visas, so therefore places such as STA do not offer the service.

Therefore, I had to pay a visit to the New Zealand High Consulate, located in the middle of Sydney's CBD. Like all immigration centers I have encountered throughout the world (all of these mainly being at international airports) the place was under staffed, and of the five or so people serving, nobody liked to smile. Still, I waited patiently for my turn, all whilst some lass directly opposite me popped her right tit out to begin breast-feeding her kid. Seriously, they build rooms for almost everything now (praying room, parent room, smoking rooms and I've even spotted a father and child's room) so surely they need to build something for breast feeders.

Anyway, after waiting something like 45 minutes to seek advice about price, availability, processing times and working rights, I was shrugged off inside 30 seconds of speaking to someone. The lady behind the counter, surprise surprise not of the smiling variety, told me of the New Zealand website where would-be working holiday makers lodged their application. I should explain that I myself looked online, but I only managed to find the New Zealand High Consulate where it's email domain ended in bigpond.com, and not that of anything officially authenticated such as nz.com or .com.nz. Why would I post all my personal information onto a cowboy website ending in bigpond.com? Nevertheless, I now know what to do, but because of Lysey’s delay there is no rush to get the ball rolling.

That very night (5/12) both Lysey and I went to see the new James Bond film. I think we're one of the last remaining people to see it, so my review is probably pointless. I will no doubt be preaching about similar flaws, such as the poor cinematography and maybe the lack of gadgets. Nonetheless, it wasn't the worst Bond I have even seen (stand up Timothy Dalton or George Lazenby), and it was a good way to spend the Friday.

Finally, to celebrate the start of summer, I partook in the Australian pastime of a few tinnies and a bar-b-q on Maroubra's Beach this weekend (6/12). Kieran, a friend from my ill-fated bank days, and his missus put on a spread fit for a king, and I duly made the most of their excellent hospitality. The subject of the aforementioned bank's decision to cut over 60 jobs came up, and although I never wish ill fortune on anyone, we both wondered, rather smugly it should be said, if any of our previous 'colleagues' were amongst the cull.