Kym had annoyed me to the extent that I had decided to give her back some of her own.

You know what women do when they get annoyed with their partner – they shut drawers a little harder and make lots of noise in the kitchen, rattling dishes and putting pots down with a bit of gusto just to give the hint that they’re cheesed off with you.

That’s exactly what I did just before lunch on Labour Day. As I walked out the back door, I shut the screen just that little bit harder and then heard from inside the house, “oh, we’re slamming and throwing things now are we? Why don’t I do a little of my own?”

With that, she pushed the plate of barbecue chicken the full length of the table. How was she to know that when the plate stopped, the chicken’s momentum would continue taking it right off the end of the table and into the waiting mouth of the shih tsu waiting at the other end?

He was last seen sprinting out the front door with his prize, saying in doggie language, “thank you, Jesus!”

He’s got to be kidding
I couldn't believe the contents of the poison pen letter that one Maroochy councillor wrote to another. It was filled with venom and bordered on hate.

I also couldn’t believe that the letter writer then chose to rant and rave at a council meeting about the document making it to the front page of the Daily.

I think that’s what the papers are for. You know, to keep us (the public) informed, and, as Don Chipp so aptly said, to “keep the bastards honest”.

Not a care in the world b>
I picked up my son Jackson after school the other day. I got there a little late, but I knew that wouldn’t matter because he was playing football, and he generally mills around with his mates for a while afterwards.

As I drove in, my 10-year old son was walking across the sports field alone, one sock down and a spring in his step. His face lit up as he caught sight of me. He waved enthusiastically and he began to skip towards the car.

I thought, “how carefree he looks, not a worry in the world”. He didn’t know it, but he gave me one hell of a memory. Oh to be 10 again….

Do you hate me too?
I took a call on air at Zinc 96 the other day and couldn’t help but wonder if I’m having the same effect on the readers of my column. The lady said: “Is that Jamie Dunn?

You have absolutely wrecked this radio station. I have tried to put up with your crap but I can’t take it anymore. You have ruined a bloody good radio station. You have a lovely day!”

Now as far as the column goes, how do you feel about that?

Grim reality of life
I got a call from a booking agent, who left this message: “Channel 7, Sydney, are looking for you, can you please contact them ASAP.

This sounds good Jamie, it could be the break you’re looking for.”

My mind immediately went to pictures of me on stage at the Logies again. I could see the front pages – “Agro returns to 7”.

This was the call I had been waiting for my Agro gig came off television 10 years ago. I sat down, looked at the name and number and dialled…

“Hello, special projects, Channel 7. Can I help you?” the voice said. I put on my best jovial Jamie personality-plus voice and said, “hi, it’s Jamie Dunn here, you were looking for me?”

“Let me just check,” she replied, putting me on hold for about 15 seconds. This was it, this was my moment.

The voice interrupted my thoughts… “yes Jamie, just let me put you through to the producers of Where Are They Now?”

That’s Brisbane
Since I’ve been living on the Coast, I’ve been less and less interested in going back to Brisbane, even for a visit.

So I wasn’t looking forward to going down there to work on Thursday, and it wasn’t long before I was reminded exactly where I was.

Coming off the William Jolly Bridge, I needed to turn left into Hope Street, but I was in the outside lane. I put my indicator on to cross a lane of traffic before I passed the street, but all the cars on the inside lane quickly closed the gaps so I couldn’t get across.

Yeah, welcome back to Brisbane.