In praise of the pulling-power of seniors (or at least senior actors).

Every now and then Muddy K and I love to play the which-famous-actor/actress-would-you-leave-me-for game. Muddy knows he has a serious rival in Gary Oldman whilst I bow to the superior pulling-power of Kristin Scott-Thomas. This is a pretty tame exercise, as anyone who knows us also knows that I like my men pale of complexion and contrary of temperament and Muddy is drawn to raven-haired women who speak with cut-glass vowels.

But here's an interesting variation on a theme: who are the senior citizen actors you might fancy if you were in your dotage? Or even now in your youth, if you felt the urge to indulge a spot of ‘elder love’?

Note: Helen Mirren is excluded from this exercise. She might be in her sixties but the words 'senior citizen' and 'dotage' do not apply. Trust me. For Muddy, at least, she will always be Morgana in Excalibur.

So here's my list of Top 5 Geriatric Thespians Who Might Just Get Your Motor Running:

• Olympia Dukakis (83)
• Gerald Mcraney (Age 66)
• F Murray Abraham (Age 74)
• Diana Rigg (Age 76)
• Donald Sutherland (79)

Olympia Dukakis - An apt choice because a) she's Greek (proving that Mediterranean women DO have great skin), and because b) she was beautifully cast as Belinda, the object of Ray Hueston's (played by Zach Galifianakis) 'Elder Love' obsession in Season 3 of HBO's brilliant low-energy comedy Bored to Death. The scenes between the then-80 year old Dukakis and 40 year old Galifianakis, as lonely widow and comic-book artist man-child respectively, are both poignant and hysterically funny. Nothing weird there. Ms Dukakis’ career took off when she was nominated for an Oscar as Cher's mother in Moonstruck (1987) - which is why she has always been a senior in our minds and why she will forever be cast as someone's mother. But when you are that lively, that pretty and that funny at 83 you can be confident of my vote for Serious GILF Material.

Gerald Mcraney - Major Dad to some, Delta Burke's ex-husband to those who recall the daft Designing Women, Gerald Mcraney made me sit up and take notice of him as the evil mining prospector and media-baron George Hearst in HBO's Deadwood and then again as the conniving, bird-strangling Raymond Tusk in Netflix's House of Cards. A gruff demeanour, perpetually scowling resting face, pot-belly spread and baldness does not diminish this man's attractiveness one iota. He has testosterone and presence to spare and looks like the kind of guy who would clean your rifles, service your truck, recoat your deck and sing your baby a raspy lullaby. Let's hope he keeps playing charismatic baddies and never dons a toupee or shaves his face.

F Murray Abraham - I'm not gonna mince words, F Murray Abraham is ugly. F Murray Abraham has bad skin. F Murray Abraham is also extraordinarily charismatic with an exquisitely beautiful speaking voice. Deep, resonant, a little bit gravelly, this man could recite the phone book and you'd sit up and listen. Anyone over the age of 43 will recognise him as the tormented Salieri from the film adaptation of Amadeus, but most viewers will recognise a versatile and scene-stealing character actor who pops up in Woody Allen films, assorted network and cable TV shows (his Louie and Bored to Death cameos are priceless) and just about anything else that needs an authoritative voice, an expressive face and excellent timing. Also, he seriously rocks a beard.

Diana Rigg - The Avengers' Mrs Emma Peel was the ultimate sexual fantasy figure for the late 1960s. No-one was as fetching as Ms Rigg (now Dame Diana Rigg) in head-to-toe leather and high hair and she has the honour of being the Bond girl who would actually marry the super-spy. Given her sex symbol status, she might not have aged quite so gracefully and elected to become a bit of a plastic surgery joke. No chance. This old bird is too classy for that. Muddy and I had the pleasure of seeing Dame Diana on stage in The Hollow Crown the same year we got married and can say without hesitation she was amazing. She has a killer cameo in Ricky Gervais' Extras, displaying an excellent sense of humour and drollery when Daniel Radcliffe's ‘johnny’ lands on her head. She is also wonderful as the Tyrell matriarch in Game of Thrones. That dreadful wimple can't hide those eyes and cheekbones. Still got it.  

Donald Sutherland - This man might have worked for some as a young actor in M*A*S*H and Klute, but not me. Bland, blonde, sullen and dull in appearance, the only thing this guy had to offer was his Canadian accent and hypnotic voice. But then I saw Six Degrees of Separation and I noticed a handsome, white-haired, lushly-bearded and very distinguished man with piercing blue eyes – and a voice deeper than I remembered - and I was a goner. Yes, he may look more grandfatherly than ever, but he's also way sexier than ever.

Who else might we add to the list? Feel free to post your suggestions here.

When life gives you lemons...make Limoncello - Part 2

Folks, the wait is almost over. Last weekend, I discarded the now-bleached lemon peels from the bottle of Grappa in which they lay soaking for the last month. I poured some cooled sugar syrup (1 part water, 1 part caster sugar) down the bottle, gave it a quick shake and now have a litre of home-made Limoncello chilling in the fridge.  Apparently, it should be ready to drink in two-three weeks.

The early signs are promising. The weird fluoro-yellow colour has toned down to a pale yellow and the consistency is cloudy and viscous. It smells rich and lemony and an early taste was rather nice.  However, a couple of rookie mistakes:

• Because I used a low-alcohol starter (not the recommended 90%/180 proof Hellfire), I can't keep it in the freezer (as recommended) as it will actually freeze.  A higher alcohol starter, even after dilution, would chill perfectly without freezing.
• There was a bit too much white pith on the lemon peel which has resulted in a slightly bitter, pithy aftertaste.

Still, can't wait to pour it over ice and enjoyed as is,  or with a splash of tonic water and mint, or as part of my own version of a Carrot Margarita. But only when the weather’s a little warmer…

Dusty’s Carrot Margarita

·         1 measure Tequila

·         2 measures Limoncello

·         Fresh orange juice

·         Fresh carrot juice

·         A wedge and squirt of a fresh lime

·         Chilli-infused or black salt to rim the glass

Next stop: Dan Murphy’s to buy a bottle of 180 proof Spiritus (Polish for “numb fingers and toes”) and then more Limoncello- and maybe some Orancello- making days in time for Summer.

When life gives you lemons (and a bottle of grappa) make Limoncello. But do your research first.

Last Saturday night, in a fit of post-Collingwood-loss-to-Hawthorn-crankiness, I needed a domestic distraction to keep myself busy and prevent the usual depressive dwelling that follows after a disastrous Magpies defeat.

Holey socks were darned, folded and put away; dinner was Thai takeaway and a bottle of wine in an hour’s time; the bathtub gleamed from a thorough bleaching and the carpets had been vacuumed to within a millimetre of the skirting boards. What was there left to do?

I spied the ¾ full bottle of grappa on my drinks trolley and a bowl of lemons and decided I would make Limoncello. Without bothering to do any research, and based on a half-assed-barely-remembered conversation with a work colleague from about a year ago, I dug out an empty 750ml glass bottle with a rubber stopper/seal, a potato peeler, nine lemons and the bottle of grappa. I remembered the first step – infusing a clear, base spirit with natural lemon oil. The other stuff (sweetening and diluting it) happens later. Obviously, I know enough to get started.

I washed the bottle in hot soapy water, rinsed it thoroughly, then put it in a hot oven for 10 minutes to sterilise and dry. While that was happening, I peeled the lemons carefully, ensuring I didn’t scoop up too much of the pith then shoved the peels through the narrow neck of the bottle until it was half full. I then poured the grappa over the peel, but wasn’t able to fill the bottle. Not enough grappa, damn. Aha, that’s when the bottle of Ciroc vodka (also grape-based) came in handy – I topped up the bottle with the vodka, inserted the rubber stopper and stuck it on the bottom shelf of my pantry cupboard.

Four days later, the grappa is turning a bright, fluoro yellow and the peels have faded to a dull cream colour. I know that in 4-6 weeks, I should remove the peels and top up the bottle with sugar syrup and then let it steep in the freezer for another 4-6 weeks, after which it will be ready for drinking.

Okay, NOW, I decide to do some research. Bless the internet and the staff at that amazing bottle shop on Queen Street. Apparently, I have flubbed my first attempt at Limoncello.

Why? How?

It appears grappa with 40-50% alcohol content isn’t strong enough and will take FOREVER to extract the full amount of lemon oil (try 6-8 weeks). The nice lass at the bottle shop recommended I replace the old peels with a fresh batch in a couple of weeks to really enhance the lemon essence.

Apparently, the base alcohol for extracting the lemon oil should be the strongest you can get – like 180 proof ‘Spiritus’ a flavourless Polish spirit with a 95% alcohol “DANGER: BLINDNESS AND NUMBNESS IN YOUR FINGERS AHEAD” label slapped on it. In the USA you would use Everclear (AKA moonshine). I understand it’s illegal in some American states…

One 700ml bottle of ‘Spiritus’ can be spread out over 3-4 750ml bottles of lemon peel (you only pour in enough to cover the peels), will take 6-7 days to extract the oil, and can be topped up with equal parts grain vodka (40% alcohol is fine) and sugar syrup straight after. Easy peasy. The closest you’ll get to the real deal in a third of the time it will take me to make my crappy first-time concoction.

Oh well.

By mid September, it should be good enough to pour over ice in a long glass, add some mint, a wedge of lime and topped up with tonic water. I hope.

In the meantime, I will get started on another batch using the right base and see how that goes.

Stay tuned for Limoncello updates.

Badass of the Week - Internet Site of a Laughtime

It's not often I stumble across something on the internet that makes me laugh so hard I choke on my cuppa Dilmah, but that's exactly what happened last Sunday morning, whilst enjoying a lazy breakfast in bed.

I was searching for some information about Lachimman Gurung, venerated WW2 Gurkha rifleman and Victoria Cross recipient, to share with military-history nerd Muddy (don't all wives do that?), and came across the site www.badassoftheweek.com

Written by Seattle-based writer Ben Thompson, baddassoftheweek is devoted to the heroic (read:deadly) exploits of men, women, animals, mythical and fictional characters, deities, saints, countries (Australia) and military battalions that have embodied 'badassery' in its many forms - extreme violence in the pursuit of a greater good (or just plain old-fashioned revenge), sexual prowess, resilience, ruthless dedication, danger, courage, strength and insane fearlessness.

Written in a style that is part frat-boy, part star-struck adolescent, all erudite motherfucker, badassoftheweek is hysterically funny and extremely informative. There's a generous dose of Australian subjects in his big list, including Australia itself - "The most badass continent on earth, this place has fucking TREES that can kill you" - PLUS, Albert Jacka VC, Rupert Murdoch, Ned Kelly, Steve Irwin, Australian Light Horse, Cliff Young and Nancy Wake (yeah, yeah she was born a Kiwi, but still).

The best entry so far (I still have so many to read) is the one about the octogenarian shepherd and crazy-man Yusuf Alchagirov who, in late 2013, survived a Grizzly Bear attack near his home in some godforsaken Russian/Georgian craphole by engaging in a fistfight with the said bear. Yep. Fistfight. Including headbutting and ball-kicking:

"...his feet dangling like that dude being choked out by Darth Vader at the beginning of the first Star Wars movie, HEADBUTTED THE FUCKING BEAR IN THE FACE WITH HIS FOREHEAD......then he kicked it in the balls. A lot. I'm not joking."

Eventually growing tired and bored with all this scrapping, the bear promptly tosses the shepherd off a cliff. And yet the old man survives, making him, according to Thompson, "...the Jamaican bobsled team of kicking bears in the dick." Gold.

There are subjects you'd expect to see here (Chuck Yeager, Audie Murphy, Joan of Arc, Boudicca, Evil Knievel) and some you wouldn't (St. Nicholas, Stephen Colbert??? Read them and you'll see why). There are more than a few notable women ('ballsy chicks'), scientists, WW2 vets, philosophers, ancient Greeks and Medieval European nutters. He also harbours a curiously sweet fixation for Gurkha soldiers. Don't we all? Better die than be a coward.

Some additional contenders Thompson might want to add to his bureau of badasses: Thor Heyerdahl, Phoolan Devi and Yılmaz Güney. Just a thought.

Check out badassoftheweek. You'll learn something new and have a real good larf.

Paging Captain Delusion: I'm Talking to You, John Turturro

One of the greatest perks of being the writer/producer/director/chief egomaniac of your own TV show or movie is the opportunity to indulge your various delusions about your attractiveness to the opposite sex.

Think of Tina Fey casting buff, chiselled pretty-man James Marsden as Liz Lemon's 'Ken Doll' boyfriend Criss Cross in the later seasons of 30 Rock, or alleged serial pervert Woody Allen, who has spent a 40-year long career casting a whole host of luscious lovelies whom we are expected to believe would marry/fuck that creepy little troll without a moment's hesitation (or a soup tureen's worth of Rohypnol-laced champagne).

Similarly, Ms Lena Dunham had no problems casting a tasty bit of beige beefcake Patrick Wilson as her grown-up-boyfriend-for-a-day in the episode "One Man's Trash" in Season 2 of Girls - even if some viewers had problems watching it.

Clearly, it's good to be the King.

Nothing, however, comes close to the staggeringly unswallowable premise of Fading Gigolo, a film that invites paying audiences to believe that women played by the likes of Sharon Stone and Sofia Vergara would actually consider handing over their hard-earned green to be fucked by John Turturro. With the lights on. No paper bag. That's right, boys and girls, John Turturro. Or Barton Fink for those of you who remember the 90s.

John Turturro is a man you could charitably describe as 'having a character face' or 'what he lacks in conventional good looks he makes up for with charisma'. I am not so charitable. I will describe Mr Turturro the only way I know how:

'John Turturro has a face like a busted arsehole and a voice like an underwater fart through a clarinet. His head is easily re-purposed as a Brillo pad.'

No wait, I AM being charitable.

That a vanity project like Fading Gigolo can actually attract investors, distributors and art-house audiences (yeah, Torn and Silky - I'm talking to YOU!) is a sure sign that we have collectively lost the plot. But since Mr Turturro has gone to such lengths to revive his flagging career by throwing reason, good taste and credibility out the window, please consider the following variations on his delusional theme. And trust me when I tell you, I would actually pay to see these films:

Heavy Hooker

Rebel Wilson plays a transplanted Australian barista in Nolita whose coffee-shop "Have You Bean Downunder?" goes belly (sorry) up. She enlists the pimping service of bubbly retired transit cop Melissa McCarthy and has sex with The Two Ryans - both Reynolds AND Gosling. Separately AND AT THE SAME TIME. Throw in a nude twerking sequence set to "Blurred Lines" and we're good to go.

Venerable Courtesan

Kathy Bates is a retired sign-language teacher looking to supplement her meagre 401K by turning tricks with the help of her sprightly buddy Shirley Maclaine, and has sex with Dennis Quaid, Harrison Ford, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Costner and Denzel Washington. All of whom PAY HER for the privilege. James Caan makes a cameo appearance, but alas, is not tied to the bed and hobbled in a BDSM session gone wrong.

Portly Paramour

Kathleen Turner - as she looks now - is forced to close down her soft furnishings boutique after a Scandinavian design concept store (Kum Haard) moves into her chi-chi neighborhood and forces her out of business. Her best friend, Roseanne Barr, insists she pay her way out of bankruptcy by charging for sex. Which she does - with the likes of Tom Cruise, Bradley Cooper and Brad Pitt.

Film buffs' in-joke: William Hurt has a cameo as a cable-TV repairer who's caught watching Body Heat on her TV and wondering aloud about what happened to the actress.

There’s a free home-cooked lamb dinner for anyone who can get these ideas green-lit.

Your pitch time starts now.