Dear Sydney,

What the hell is wrong with you? Clean up your act.

Sincerely,
The People.

Maybe its just the part of town I live in, but I can't help but get the feeling that Sydney is the dirtiest, sleeziest city I've ever been in. And that's saying something given that I've just spent the better part of two years living in Bangkok.

Case in point - walking on my way to work at 7:45am on a Monday morning, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the local "adult entertainment" shop was open - that's right, at 7.45 on a monday morning.

Sydney People queue up during the great KY Famine of '68

I mean seriously, I love getting jiggy and making with the sweet, sweet lurrve as much as anyone. Hell, I won't even say no to the odd feather duster and hot candle-wa...sorry, Mum...where was I - oh yes. But I have NEVER woken up at 7 o'clock in the morning going, "Dammit honey, this vibrating glow-in-the-dark butt-plug just isn't doing it for me any more, just as well that the sex-toy store around the corner is open. I'm going down there to replace it this instant!"

Maybe I'm just getting older and more conservative - I suspect this is true because I find it all of a sudden very important that my socks match when I get dressed in the morning. Don't know why, it's just something that's crept up on me. I guess that's just how the aging process works.

One minute you're high as a kite on five different pills, three of which you've never heard of and dancing naked with three hot latina sisters you met at 4am at a party thrown by someone you've never even met, and the next you're complaining about road noise and how the hair on your head seems to be conveniently relocating itself inside your ears and on your back.

Stay tuned next week for further episodes of "Has anyone seen my dentures?" and "Wouldn't have seen it my day!", brought to you by Your Man on The Ground and the Sydney Senior Citizens Brigade.