Chris Ryan was driving to Wollongong, expecting to see smog rising from steelworks, when instead he was struck by a tall, Oriental-style building rising above the landscape.
Scruffy Murphy’s is not just home to cheap schnitzel and discount jugs of beer. On Wednesday nights it adds a touch of glamour as it hosts Drag Queen Karaoke.
The Sydney sold in tourism ads is one of golden beaches, blue skies and a sparkling harbour. In a series of noirish photographs Christian Ferreiro, a graphic designer, has captured an altogether different place.
Perth artist Mike Rigoll finds, “Every truly big city has its own energy: a heady, pulse-quickening verve that can overwhelm or inspire in equal measure.”
A tribute to two Sydney surgeons has been molested by people who can’t understand the simple instruction, “Rub my nose.”
Chris Ryan is enchanted by a creature of the not-so-deep in Clovelly.
With three professional fights to his name Ben Wrotniak is far from a seasoned boxer. You can imagine people still describing the 26-year-old as “a good kid.”
In the bain-maire at Four Seasons Chicken Spot in Kings Cross, the pickings are slim but fatty.
Scruffy Murphy’s is more associated with glassings than gastronomy. As a serious foodie who eats at least three times a day, I’m a little nervous about what the chef will plate up.
“What is that thing?… And what’s that smell?” Anyone who’s spent enough time in North Bondi for the wind to change direction will have heard a visitor ask such questions.