I think my fear of snakes is well-documented.

I’ve had them fall on me from atop the chook pen door, slither down my Agro arm during a television wildlife segment and dine on one of the possums in my roof. Don’t worry, furry little fella, I’d scream like that too if I was being slowly crushed and swallowed!

So you can only imagine my dilemma when I found a carpet snake attempting to cross a busy Bli Bli road.

I stopped, put my hazard lights on and waved traffic to a halt while I got round the back of the snake to try and hurry him across ... by the way, don’t ever do that because all that happens is the snake turns to face its enemy.

I quickly got back to the safety of my car.

I ended up just sitting there, gesticulating and begging him to move.

The snake did finally cross the road, but definitely on its own terms and definitely with its dignity intact. I, on the other hand ...

It’s tough at the top in radio

I ventured into the BP service station at Coolum Beach at 5.30am last Saturday.

Garry, the guy behind the counter, said with a smile: “Hey Jamie, I’m about to start reading your column.”

Naturally, me being me, I had completely forgotten what day it was. I grabbed a paper but, because I’d used my card, most of the change I had was back in the car.

I felt around in the bottom of my shorts pocket. All I could come up with was $1.60 and a dead moth.

I went to put the paper back, but Garry said: “Here, I’ll lend you the 40c,” and then added, “but only if you promise to listen to my radio show between 6am and 9am Wednesdays on Noosa Community FM”.

There’s nothing worse in breakfast radio than your competition being a really, really nice guy!

What a woman!

The place – Quad Park. The event – a golden oldies rugby union game.

Two teams of men with their seniors cards, who should know better than to put their ageing bones and bodies through that all over again!

What impressed me? The woman in the stands, still in her wedding gown, watching the man she’d just married that morning play his weekly football game betwixt wedding ceremony and wedding reception.

I ask: “Where do find a woman like that?”

For your information, not only did his team lose but the groom was yellow-carded and sent off late in the second half.

Driving my daughter up the wall

That’s all I could stand; I couldn’t stand no more.

It was time for me to book a professional driving school to teach 16-year-old Stella.

I did my research and phoned the number I saw on a car that passed me on David Low Way, went home and told Stella – who is on school holidays – that she started her lessons at 1pm the next day.

Well, she freaked. “I’m not doing it Dad, not unless it’s an automatic.”

My response was the same as it’s always been: “You’re a Dunn, and as long as you live in my house, you’ll be taught to drive a manual car! All automatic drivers are sooky la las, and besides, I have already paid for it.”

I got home early enough the next day to witness Stella’s pre-lesson disintegration.

There was a knock at the door – Stella’s time had come.

She immediately moved to open the passenger door.

“No, no, you’re the driver,” said the instructor.

Within a couple of minutes the engine burst into life and the car disappeared down the street, leaping and bounding towards the roundabout.

Kevin’s changing face

I know, last week I commented on how much Kevin Rudd looked like a certified practising accountant, standing next to George Bush.

But this week, when he was standing next to the Queen of England, I wasn’t quite sure which one should be wearing the tiara.