A showcase of the worst examples of architecture, design, culture and humanity in Perth Western Australia. Posts may contain adult concepts and occasional coarse language. Commenters and those submitting material should read the policy page first.
Trying to knock off a few more reader submissions. A nice one from Damien from the train, which suddenly appears to have gained a Scottish accent approaching Moount Lawley. Perhaps in honour of The Flying Scotsman? Thanks to Damo who is also promising to get a shot of Stephen Smith’s hair for us.
The Cookster has sent me some videos which sound fantastic, including turds on the streets of Subiaco. Unfortunately i haven’t been able to open them yet, so you will have to make do with a shot he is submitting for worst of Australia/worst architecture, the Hakoa Club in Bondi. I think you can just see the place behind Cookster’s Mo. Thanks mate. Will work on the videos.
M&A of Mackay in Queensland have sent a nostalgia shot of Eats, labelling it as worst architecture/demolishing, in that it was a crime it was knocked down. Wasn’t there several eats places? Another sadly missed vanished worst.
And one more international worst from Mr XY, who’s associate just returned from New York with a pocket full of these. Apparently you keep your hands in your pockets over there, or you’ll end up with a bale of these.
And one more from Stu of Hilton Park. He wonders how low a landscaping budget can go, with these blobs of stone used as actual features. Reminds me of one of WA’s crappiest tourist sites, The Pinnacles. At least you don’t have to drive for hours to see Hilton blobs.
Backstory: I have been using the Oats Street train station every week day for about three years now and I can’t remember a time in which this used franger wasn’t sitting in the sand just outside. Recently it disappeared and I felt a little sad, thinking that some council worker must have finally removed it after it’s three year tenure. Then, after about a week, it reappeared, seemingly scraped from under the sand by the tyres of a parking car. So there it is, in all it’s glory. A true story of survival against the odds. It should also be noted that this is not the only condom I’ve seen adorning the Oats Street station. Perhaps some commuters just get too anxious waiting for their trains. Or (as I like to think), maybe some people are just flat out turned on by public transport.
Fantastic Ljuke. is that an ultrasmall in the background too?
How long since Augusta in Western Australia’s Southwest would have been associated with aboriginal culture from a tourist point of view? How long since an aboriginal figure would have been used as an advertisment for the town? I can’t see it happening these days. I holidayed there as a child for many years and don’t remember a single mention of the original people. This makes this mug quite old and quite sad.
Continuing reader submissions today. It’s all been of such quality so far that I feel comfortable going all toilety on your arses today.
First time submitter Poni likes the way this Exmouth toilet has been given such a friendly caring personality. I’m wondering why it wasn’t given a name. “G’day, I’m Bluey, your bush loo. Please keep the door closed while parking your breakfast.” And can’t the bowl be moistened “naturally”? Is anyone really going to stuff around with brush water? Thanks Pone. John Williamson might have penned a song “Hey Bush Loo…” or even “It’s raining on the rock…”
And Anonymous Perthon is “fucking outraged” (a rather overcooked emotion here at TWOP) that a 7 month old was charged $10 for the use of these facilities at Kidzland in Bayswater. (Looks like a $3 toilet experience to me.)
And those following the excellent Beaufort Street Bloggers’ rampage through Beaufort Street eateries, (Reminding me a little of 曹操’s cunning, daring and blood soaked campaigns in Northern China), may have seen their condemning of the bog at The Peking Restaurant. Yes, it’s bad, but having used toilets in Beijing myself I’m inclined to cut it some slack. No excuse for the food though. Click the photo to check out the dragon counter too.
Going to try and get through a few reader submissions this week. Here’s a mailbox from ‘Me”. Sorry, I’m a bit confused is that Rolly, or another Me? And, do people really steal mailboxes in Scarborough? I know from the search results that there are many sluts in Scarborough and people trying to locate them, but mailbox stealers? And will such a pissweak chain really stop them if there are?
And let me add one of my own. A bad mailbox with a light that doesn’t work and and a hideous dead tree.
Lauredhel says… Hey there Worsties,
WA Today has taken a fair (and just) beating from the Worst; I was wondering if you’d like to give Western Suburbs Weekly a go? They ran this cartoon this week:
Lauredhel
And here’s me doing a much classier job of making fun of asian accents a la standup.
CK was similarly enraged by this model wearing teh stars and bars in this ad in xpress magazine. I was more outraged at the price. $179 for a haircut? get outta here.
And one more simple worst from Teh ‘rage David Rottobloggo Cohen from East Perth. Nice one your rageship, and I think quite a good weekend worstoff.
I can forgive a lot of things, but a sign spelling fare Fayre is a step too far. Bookers Bourbon Bar, AKA Karawara Tavern. Apparently soon to be demolished and replaced with a wine bar. Or perhaps Olde Worlde Whyne Barre. This is the establishment that asked when the American students were arriving so they could order an extra palette of fruity lexia. My short standup piece below refers to this. Fruity lexia is definitely traditional fayre.
There’s someone in town who really doesn’t like 6PR Radio. I know that narrows it down to everyone less than 70 years of age, but this particular person often likes to vent their spray on this old corner shop on East Parade in East Perth. I sometimes suspect a The Worst of Perth reader. My suspicions fall variously on Cohen, Calabrese, Skink, Bedford Crackpot and Rolly, but perhaps it will turn out to be a Murder on The Orient Express affair with all of them holding the spray can. Out of Perthers, you could listen to 6PR online but don’t, unless you like to hear pensioners whining about immigration and eating dog food, and how they laid their down their wives for young people during the war…
I’ve made the mistake in the past of going back the next day, or even a few hours after spotting a new daub, only to find the pith painted over quick time. I’ve missed “Sattler 6PRacist” and something about Brad Hardie being a moronic loser, or bankrupt, or something. You can see where they have been painted out. This time however I swung across two lanes of commuters to get the Barra version. The thing is, Barra is one of the least offensive in the crew of this good ship Venus, just an amiable bumbler who played a bit of sport. Oh well, one man’s amiable bumbler is another man’s fat wog cunt I suppose.
