Things you learn when you are young.


Some of my siblings and me. Black Belt hand to hand combat team.

I am beginning to understand that sibling hand to hand combat is just something that I am just going to have to get used to. Whether it be an ankle tap as one attempts to pass the other while watching television, or a more serious assault using a weapon. Such as a tennis ball or a plastic cricket bat. The situation will be going along just fine, with innocent play when one will see the opportunity to maim the other one, and the urge?

The urge is strong my friends. It is strong.

Depending on the seriousness of the assault and where my tolerance lays at that very moment, will dictate the outcome. It is either an exhausted…

“Please don’t throw the ball at the back of your brother’s head…”

To, if the universe has lined up my white-hot rage and I am walking around the house picking up shit and have just had a gut full, to…


I know it doesn’t seem fair that the victim is punished, but it is also not fair about the amount of shit that I have to pick up after them.

By only having two kids, the fighting is not as bad as it would be if you were a part of a larger family. Growing up we had a myriad of torture available to us. Gangs were quickly formed, and just as quickly dispersed depending on the circumstances.

I recall spending and hour or so in the toilet of our house with my older sister, while our younger brother stood outside the door with a knife. Yes, so it was a butter knife but we were not capable of disarming him until Mum got home.

I recall being absolutely terrified as I was chased through the house by my older sister, who had discovered I had read her diary while trying all her make up on. I flew down the stairs screaming “MUM! MUM! MUM! SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME!” as I desperately searched the house to hopefully find my saviour while she scampered after me, all but a few yards behind.

When the Brady Bunch was formed not long after, I had a new person to torture. My step sister. She was very quiet and shy. I can only imagine in those early days her thinking to herself.. “Dad! What the fuck were you thinking…”. But my torture of her was not a physical one, because even though I was only 8, I knew that she was not made of sturdy stuff.

So instead I made my monkey DANCE.

At the time I was obsessed with Ray Parker Junior’s song The Other Woman.

I’m in love… I’M IN LOVE, With the other woman….

My life was fine… LIFE WAS FINE, until she blew my mind.

I was Ray and Lizzy was my backup dancer. I made her practice so much that eventually she complained to her Dad, who mentioned it to Mum, who in turn asked me not to make her dance to that song ever again.


Then, when I was eleven, the Brady Bunch completed the ensemble with another daughter, so I had a baby and then a toddler who took to performing like a duck to water, and my career was revived.

And even still to this day at family gatherings, if she is socially lubricated enough, we will watch her perform Bette Midler’s “Miss Otis Regrets she’s unable to lunch today.” and cheer her on like madmen.

So in closing, although I do not condemn violence, there is a little bit of character building that goes along with sibling rivalry and combat. And allows you to have memories such as mine.

Did you used to fight with your siblings?

Are your kids mad for a little mano on mano action?

Any nasty comments on my appearance as a child will be immediately agreed with.