I’ve told the story a few times: of how, at my first Bricktober, I was upbraided by a Blue-Rinse Avenger for daring to have two gay aliens (two alien minifigs standing face to face…🤷‍♂️) in my display, and how ever since I’ve made sure to display the rainbow colours in one form or another, just to have them there in case the right people notice… and the wrong people 😜

This year, due to the constant disruptions of moving and new jobs, and a massive lack of time, I’ll only be participating in the Micropolis build. But, despite the difficulties of part choice and palette compromises, I’m still trying to get something in there. This flower hedge, for example, in the garden of a mega-church-looking building…


Dammit, how did three weeks get away from me like that? I was going to post in the immediate aftermath of my Lego-based trek southward, then I looked up and it’s almost Halloween!

Agh, well. It’s been a hella Lego-y month, as well: first I received a sneak copy of the new and enormous Lego Ideas set 21330 Home Alone to build and review for the Perth Lego Users Group website (and you’ll get a head-up when the review is posted), then there was the opening of Perth’s new official Lego store, which… you know… I missed because I’m all the way over here in Twohourflightawayland. And before all that, there was Bricktober.

So, in the spirit of it never being too late except for tomorrow when it will all be too late, let me tell you about Bricktober.



Not long now: this time next week I’ll be packing the car with over a dozen large carboard boxes containing my display — entitled Alien Archaeological Expedition, for those with a need to know — driving for 16 wincing-at-every-goddamn-bump-in-the-road hours to get my arse to Perth, and carefully piecing over a dozen large cardboard boxes worth of Lego display back together again ready to set up for two days of telling people that no, this doesn’t come from a set, yes, I did make it myself, no, it’s not bloody Star Wars, yes, I really did come up with it myself, and no, your dad didn’t see it on the shelves at Target, go check yourself…. (Believe me, there’s a bingo sheet.)

It’s Bricktober time!

A tiny taste of one corner of my display. Imagine a tonne of in-jokes like this, but 12 baseplates bigger.

Get your tickets, come see the very large display I spent seven months putting together, marvel at the brilliant things people way more brilliant then me did in less time for much greater effect, and say hi to me because gods knows I don’t have any other Lego enthusiasts or, you know, even actual friends up here.

I can’t wait.


So…… lot of weather we’ve been having lately, innit?……

All right, let’s talk serious shit. I’ve lost my way since our son Blake completed suicide back in September 2019. Of course it’s understandable — Luscious and I have been swallowed by grief, and anybody who can’t understand how that level of grief can affect you has my permission to stay quiet — but the ultimate end of that process is that my life has turned in upon itself and started eating its own tail. Everything that was supposed to be good about coming to Karratha — gaining fitness, writing more, lowering my stress levels, finding my post-50-year-old-future, etc etc and so forth — was destroyed, and what’s more, I didn’t care.

This can no longer be supported.

Continue reading “WELCOME TO THE BUNGLE. AGAIN.”


One of the things I’ve missed most since moving to Karratha is the opportunity to exhibit at my favourite annual arts exhibition, Bricktober. So much so, in fact, that recently I determined that I was going to pack myself into the car and drive down to Perth in 2021 for the sole purpose of doing just that.

Then a double dose of positive karma struck: Firstly, Luscious approved the plan, and second, my good pal (and head honcho of Bricktober) Stephen Kendall gently coughed in my Facebook feed and mentioned that a) due to Covid-19 restrictions, Bricktober was taking place in a fully online environment this year, and b) if I pulled my finger out and built something inside of a week, I could display something this year as well as next.

Continue reading “BRICKTOBER 2020 AND THANKS FOR 2000”


It’s the beginning of the term three school holidays. Lego reviews will follow. In the meantime, however, a short interlude:

I’ve been a lover of Bricktober since its inception, and one of the hardest things about moving to Karratha has been my inability to exhibit there.

In the wake of Blake’s one-year anniversary, though, I decided it was time I focused my life forward– no more wallowing on what the past has cost me (well, some wallowing — nobody gets over losing their son that quickly — but targeted wallowing. Specific wallowing.) while my own inaction costs me everything else. It’s time to face forward, and work on what I would achieve if I had thirty years in front of me and the only thing holding me back was me. Which is, kind of, actually the case.

One of those things was Bricktober. If it couldn’t come to me, then I was going to work out how to go back to it. Which meant planning to build something and take it to Perth. October 2021 is a year away. I could do that.

At which point my pal Stephen, who heads the organisation that runs Bricktober, popped up to tell me that, because of Covid, the whole thing was online this year, and if I could get something built in time — even something as small as a 20×20 stud diorama — I could have it included.

Oh, and it would have to be completed in a week.

Turns out, that was just the motivation I needed. So here’s a sneak peek at the first MOC I’ve completed in a ridiculously long time, and the first salvo of regaining my creativity. Bricktober will feature hi-res images, with some video and assorted goodies, but for now, here’s a quick squizz at The Hunting Lodge.


It’s almost upon us again: Saturday 8 and 9 October marks the third annual — and my second appearance at — Bricktober, Perth’s premier Lego display and exhibition.

The Blue Meanie. One of the ships I’ll be displaying.

Who doesn’t love the Classics?
This year, I’ll be part of two displays– my own, individual display is a six-foot long depiction of a spaceship race, with nine large ships racing across a rocky moon surface; and I’ve organised a group exhibit in the building style known as Micropolis, where everything is at a scale of one stud per three feet: in short, everything is teeeeeeensy tiny. 
The baseplates for my spaceship display,
set against the bloated corpse of a beach whale
for comparison.
Micropolis. Where trees are trees, and
fire trucks are adoooorable.
Roooaaarrrr. I is tewwifying!
Bricktober takes place at the Canning Showgrounds from 9am-4.30pm, 8 and 9 October. Apart from 2 halls of displays by 40 exhibitors, there are Build-In-The Bag, Rapid MOC and Speed Build competitions; a brick pit for free play; stop-motion brick films; Lego vehicles to drive; costumed characters; and a host of other activities.
The Silas Greenback.
The Toadstool.
You can pre-book tickets for timed entry slots online. Tickets are $8.30 each, or $26.20 for a family of four: a plate of Chinese and a drink would cost more. Full details can be found on the Bricktober website, or visit the Facebook page.
Comin’ at ya this October.


Bricktober is six weeks away, and I’m slowly getting my act in place and piecing together my display for this year.

Will it be big? What do you think? (Hint: I’m 5ft 10)

This year’s promising to be even bigger and better than 2015, so come on down to the Canning Showground and have a fun day for the price of… well, something not very expensive at all.
You’ll find all the details under the poster:


For the past couple of years I’ve been blogging my annual trip to observe the Lego display staged by the WA Brick Society as part of the annual Model Railway Show at the Claremont Showgrounds. As a Lego fan it’s a wonderful occasion, but also somewhat frustrating, as the gap between “I like” and “I can do” is a large, and unless you’re a member of that group based north of the distant Swan River, exclusive one.
That’s why, when the opportunity to display at Bricktober arrived as part of my membership of the Perth Lego User Group, I jumped on it. Apart from a chance to expose myself to the disdain or otherwise of those I’d critiqued in the past (hint: didn’t happen. They’re utterly lovely fellows, one and all), it was a great opportunity to take part in a community gathering the likes of which I hadn’t experienced since SF Cons went slightly sour on me; to be one of the in-crowd, the insiders, that merry band of brothers united by a common love, and all that jazz.
So, last weekend, I boxed up my ‘Tomb of the Unknown Spaceman’ MOC after 6 month of construction, as well as half a dozen spacecraft, and took them to Cannington Showgrounds to display them at the 2nd annual Bricktober display, conducted by the indefatigable Stephen and Joanna Kendall for Ascot Rotary. And had a bloody ball in the process.
As someone who works in event management, the thing that struck me was just how well Bricktober is run, It’s a huge event– the Canning Showgrounds main hall is a big room, and while my little display just about filled half a standard trestle table (bumphed up to a full table by the addition of the stand-alone ships), I pretty much had the smallest display in the room: Rod Iseppi, the fellow two down from me, whose Tattooine display won the People’s Choice Award, overflowed 4 trestles, and still wasn’t the largest display. In total, there were something like 30 exhibitors, yet the room never felt crowded or cramped, and with more than 7000 attendees coming through over the 2 days, space was at a premium. 
Rod Iseppis’ fucknormous Tattooine display. An absolutely stunning beast of a thing, and a well-deserved public choice winner.

Staggered entry times meant that we were never overwhelmed, and the range of activities for attendees to sample– stop-motion movies, brick pit, interactive displays, crafts, technic-driving stands, and well-stocked sausage sizzle and drink stops (necessary, as both days were hotter than Satan’s armpit) were just damn fun. An appearance by the 501st Legion, Star Wars cos players par excellence, and some superhero character cosplayers, helped maintain a happy, family-friendly atmosphere. 
A Stormtrooper helps keep alive my weirdly high success rate in getting photos of Star Wars characters posing with Daleks (It’s true– I have more than anyone would deem necessary) while the Liberal Party candidate for Canning presses the flesh of voters too young to force-choke.
And the crowds were, for the most part, utterly fantastic, split roughly 50/50 between kids dragging their parents from display to display and parents doing the same to their kids. My personal mix seemed to consist mainly of a) kids who loved the Daleks I’d included and wanted to talk about the upcoming Dr Who set, b) Dads the same, c) kids who loved the space ships because hey, spaceships!, d) Dads who loved the nods I’d included to the sets we grew up with when Classic Space was just Space, and e) people who couldn’t quite believe that what I’d built was entirely the product of my own imagination and weren’t a bunch of sets they’d just not seen before. Which, any way you cut it, is a compliment. Especially the guy who flat out didn’t believe it, and called me a liar when I insisted 🙂
Still, as Paul– the fellow next to me whose display was a medieval castle siege– and I quickly, discovered, being next to a gigantic Star Wars display meant that the most common phrase we heard all weekend was “Look, spaceships. Look, a castle. OH, WOW, STAR WAAAAARRRRRSSSSS!“….. Next year, I’m going to put a Dalek minifig next to a Stormtrooper minifig in the middle of the table and save myself a tonne of work 🙂
Not everybody was complimentary, of course. The really fun thing about being behind the table, as anyone who works in customer service can verify, is that you can become invisible, or even more entertainingly, a servant. And it means people develop a delightful habit of saying exactly what they mean. I’m too old, and battle-scarred, to find it anything other than funny, so the best comments of the weekend, for me were:
Not the kid who looked at my display, read the sign, looked at the display again and said “Tomb of the Unknown Spaceman? I don’t even know what an unknown spaceman is. Why would you even build that?” But his Dad, who replied “Yeah, I know,” and moved him away.
And the middle-class accumulation of crust and wig powder who spied this cute couple amongst my display:
You there! I wanna take you to a gay bar!
And told me in no uncertain terms how disgusting it was that I would think to show off such obvious gays. For Pete’s sake, can’t we even have a display of children’s toys without this sort of stuff?
Oh, those pesky gay aliens. Gay, plastic, minifigure make-believe, not-real toy aliens. Ruining our youth with their gay plastic alien vibes. 
Your Liberal voter in action, ladies and gentlemen.
Of course the best part of such comments, as anyone who works in customer service will tell you, is that the speaker has no idea how genuinely hilarious they are being. And when you’re surrounded by the excellent crew of fellow exhibitors that I was, the whole weekend was one big puppy-cuddle of camaraderie. Which doesn’t even take into account the displays. 
Oh my God, the displays. Let me tell’s ‘ee, I thought I’d done all right for myself. Thursday night, I thought I’d acquitted myself quite well for six months toodling abut and a first display. Then, by the time I’d finished setting up on Friday, I was pretty sure I was the least accomplished person in the room. Then I turned up on Saturday morning and saw what everyone else had unpacked, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that I am an embarrassment to my species.
Where shall I begin?
How about Quentin, fellow Baldivis builder, and his castle? Or The Kendalls and their insanely huge City layouts with the single-piece-by-single-piece harbour water so large I would have snapped and started my killing spree about a third of the way through? Or Dale’s pirate cove that just went on, and on, and on, with more detail than an OCD sufferer’s self-portrait? Or Ben. Young, pretty, looks-like-a-precocious-twelve-year-old-Ben. With his castle. And his brick-built dragon. And his Iron Man glove and armbands and chest rig that I thought looked so cool lying on the table surrounded by blue-prints and calipers and screwdriver and pencil and whatnots also, all, entirely built from Lego. Until ten minutes after I complimented him on how cool they were and he showed up at my table. WEARING THEM!
Skilled doesn’t cover it. These guys are artists, working in a medium with seemingly infinite possibilities. 
So, next year I’ll be back. With a bigger display. And ideas that push my design skills a bit further. Maybe the GARC finishing line and podium. Or the zombie apocalypse streetscape. A graveyard scene might be fun. Or Star Wars. Everyone likes Star Wars…… Because, godsdamnit, I may be a noob, and a cleft-thumbed idiot, but I’m competitive. I may never be the best one in the room, but I hate being the worst. 
Now, the pictures:
Quentin Slobe’s utterly amazing castle.
One of two giant City displays.
Approximately a quarter of Joanna Kendall’s harbour. Made up of 1×1 plates and wedges. One by one by one by one by one by one by where’s my bloody gun….
Dale Horsley’s immense, detailed, and utterly joyous Pirate Cove.

Ben’s castle. Talented little so-and-so.
More Ben. 

You think this looks cool, right?
Talented, talented boy. 

And what of my build? What of 6 months work, and all those pieces? Well, the thing about Lego is, as much fun as it is to put together……



Way back when, I may have mentioned that I had foolishly agreed to build something for a Lego display in October called, you guessed it, Bricktober.

Yeah, so, October’s nearly open us. And, if I’m honest, I may have gone a little mad.

See, the thing I came up with was a diorama called Arrival at the Tomb of the Unknown Spaceman. A whole rabble of space-themed minifigs disembark from a shuttle that’s over 2 base plates long (a minimum of 64 studs), and wander around what can only be called a significant investment in grey blocks. It’s taken me nearly 7 months to build, and it looks a lot like this:

Which is not the me-going-mad bit, so much as the deciding-that-wasn’t-enough-and-what-I-really-had-to-do-was-build-a-bunch-of-different-spaceships-to-go-on-stands-next-to-it was. So, if you come along to the Canning Showgrounds on October 10 or 11, you’ll also get to see a 52-stud long star fighter:

Another, slightly smaller star fighter:


And a teensy, tiny, 16-stud long Vic Viper**:

Clearly, I have lost my mind.

Thankfully, I’ve finished all that, and have no plans at all to build, saaaaay, another Vic Viper in the 40-50 stud long bracket.


For more information on Bricktober, including the fantastic competitions, displays, prizes, and attractions that will be happening, visit their website.

GARC: Galactic Asteroid Rally Circuit. Each space-racer must have 2 crew members per ship (pilot & navigator), no weapons, and must look fast. The crazier the colour scheme the better