I grew up under the Southern Hemisphere haze of Australian television soaps. Daphne and Des Paul and goings on at the ….watering hole (forgotten name) were normal pre-dinner fare for me until I moved in with my dad who had none of that stuff I recall. He had a television! But I spent all my time in an intravenous drip of Thrillers/horror/fantasy supplied by my bookworm dad. He was my hero and nothing like a bookworm jumper wearing sandal creeper that he actually was in the part creature.
So did Toadfish really desert me? Did we upon some beer laden antipodean lawyerly adventure get to the point where you couldn’t stand the sight of me so he decided to pack up and leave me at the cheap hotel we had been staying at and drive away leaving me to fend for myself? Well No. In fact, I deserted Toadfish and the whole sunny facades of Ramsey Street or Dufferville for shows like Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG 1 Star Trek Deep Space Nine etc.
Ah, the Nineties were stuffed full of sugar candy yet quasi-intelligent fantasy/horror and, of course, sci-fi. I just watched it and masturbated, a lot. Enough for a convention or three!
Funny I had given up on ‘the book’ NOT the Bible but literature as found in a mass market paperback replete with sex scenes for television replete with very attractive male and female leads. But where did the story part go? Could it be that I was as satisfied with the stories portrayed on screen as I was with those portrayed in the books I read as a teenager? No. I think perhaps I had grown out of the solitary holding a book for three hours at a time kind of scene without moving and was becoming more (insert Russian transgressive transition here) accustomed to girls, life television and everything.
But Toadfish. Oh! Toadfish. Always with a beautiful girl, A spacious well-decorated home, words of wisdom or humour depending on the situation and big enough so that any old idiot wouldn’t mess with him. And smart. lawyer Smart. What I wouldn’t give for some of that!