
Remembering Chrissy Amphlett, Gen-X Oz-Rock Legend
She wanted her song ‘I Touch Myself’ to inspire women to check for breast cancer. Now cancer has claimed Chrissy Amphlett, the tough, sexy frontwoman for Australian rock band Divinyls.
Entertaining smart people since 2009


She wanted her song ‘I Touch Myself’ to inspire women to check for breast cancer. Now cancer has claimed Chrissy Amphlett, the tough, sexy frontwoman for Australian rock band Divinyls.

Luke McGregor may behave awkwardly in the dating game, but if chicks like a guy who can make ‘em laugh, call him Casanova.

Writer/performer Sarah Collins presents an affectionate, hilarious and finely crafted vision of suburban community choirs… aided by a decidedly weird 14-member backing choir.

This likeable English sketch comedy troupe offers meat-and-potatoes skits, performed with flair… and a few twists.

Wannabe author Jennifer Wong had a bad night, but she’s still a charming performer whose handling of race in Australia is more intelligent than average.

Sydney hipster Gen Fricker deadpans and strums her way through a disjointed and only occasionally funny Melbourne debut.

The former Doug Anthony All Star is a wonderful teller of entertainment industry war stories. But a prevailing mood of cynicism threatens to extinguish his charm.

Whiskas is trying to encourage more new customers for its products, but is the lead-up to Christmas really the most responsible time to launch a campaign to adopt kittens?

The James Bond franchise marks its 50th year by mashing up its own tropes with an oddly enjoyable Freudian twist.

In cartoons, alum puckered Sylvester The Cat’s mouth into a cat’s arse. Will this chemical compound do the same to your natural predators?

Critics revelled in spewing venom across the Linsday Lohan-helmed flop biopic Liz & Dick. But how did her Aussie (enough) co-star Grant Bowler fare?

Even the Olympics has indie cred: “I’m so cool I qualified for the Olympics before my nation’s sovereignty was even recognised, man”.

Fresh New York writing outlet n+1 ably (but irregularly) blows the cobwebs out of the stuffy lit-mag genre. Here’s a cheat sheet for the anti-literary magazine literary magazine.
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