Don’t think it is supposed to be a holiday.
I thought that the royal brat was having a year (or two) out from gaining his art history degree before joining the army (and, oh yeah, he’ll get into Sandhurst with his poor degree in art history! What will he specialize in, painting the camouflage pattern on tanks? “Um, black, green, black, err, green…”).
My belief was that he would be getting close to the real working man by travelling as far away as he could from the UK tabloid red-tops and take up a low paid job in Oz (revenge? Tee hee). ‘Course they must have forgotten that the majority of papers, and a few TV stations, in ‘gods chosen land’ are all owned by… the owner of a certain bunch of UK red-topped tabloids! Now the farm (ranch?) that he was hoping to work at is surrounded by – much to the delight of the landlord of the local watering hole, no doubt – the cream of the Australian press corps (well, those who haven’t tried to make it big elsewhere – remarkable how many Aussie barmen will try to convince you that they used to work for The Star in Sydney or something!) and all those royal correspondents who have nothing else better to do back home.
To me his advisors must have thought that taking a job as a sheep shearer in the outback would make it difficult to spy on him, and for that I applaud them – after all I don’t want to open my paper everyday and see pix of him chasing sheep, holding sheep down, wearing a hat, wearing a different hat, appearing to endorse one beer over another coz he’s drinking it, having to drink another different tinny so as not to appear to favour one over the other, or wandering into the dunny with a quilted bog roll under his arm. After all, who cares?

Now, on the other hand, if he did his work experience with Steve Irwin…
“’Ave a look at this beauty! Cor, look at the way he’s goin’ for that snapper! Lenses goin’ everywhere mate!”

And as for David Blaine… Pretentious moron or what? “Look at me; I can grow a beard right before your very eyes – and in a Perspex box too!”
Well, yippee.
The American press are apparently annoyed that the Brits are not applauding his genius but pelting him with food instead. I personally would only go along to see what would happen if he spilt his bodily waste product receptacles; would he carry on or just use the smell as a stimulant!?! But honestly, what are we supposed to do? It is a man in a box, it’s not like he is chained up or anything (yet). We have seen everything in a box at one time or another – and maybe Blaine will pursue this far enough that he ends up in a box… But I would rather go along with all those who have advocated replacing his water supply with Formaldehyde and exhibiting his ‘art’ that way, after all isn’t street theatre supposed to be interesting? (I once saw a man marching up and down with his bagpipes in a park in London; when approached by some oriental tourists who dropped money in his bag he chased them away with yells that he was only practising! If only Blaine was as funny…)

Flood – doesn’t care. No, really.