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Well, it’s been a while since the last issue so what’s been happening in the world of Oscar Mike? An Oscar Mike website was created using pirated software and youtube tutorials which is probably the reason why it never made it online. Photos have been taken, trips have been embarked upon, friends have been made and vino has been consumed. This issue has been blessed with a few new characters, Gav has lifted the calibre of this publication by kindly contributing his photography (which features on the cover) and words, Tom’s blog and photo albums have been pillaged to add some exotic spice to the following pages and Jonny’s scattered brain has been infiltrated, a ramp design has been extracted from it and plastered across the guts of this rag. As always we hope you get a warm, fuzzy feeling and wet jeans from clicking through this whimsical piece of modern art.


What is it about naked bodies that makes have to have a second glance? Don’t tell me that you’ve never donned a pair of sunnies to get a sneaky peak at a perky rig. There is something primal and subconscious about looking at other people. A dozen different people in the last month have confessed to me that they enjoy nothing more than ‘people watching’. This apparently popular pass time firstly involves picking a busy street, food court or beach. Next simply take a comfy seat in your desired vantage point with a cup of Joe and pick out people walking by and comment on them. Another option to commenting on them is to give them a voice over, be sure to add an awkward strangled

voice to your victim. This activity becomes even more memorable and enjoyable while having a camera strapped around your neck. For the less classy contestants you could play the ‘5 minute game’. This involves sitting with a friend in the same vantage point and keeping quiet for 5 min while you both keep count of the number people you would sleep with who walk by. At the end of the 5 min you compare scores and see who has the lower standards. These activities are exactly what I found myself doing while in Bondi recently and the results are featured over the next few pages. (Please note the following photos are not of the people included in my count from the 5 minute game).

The other day I was in a very up-market breakfast cafe, you know, the kind where everything served is uber-healthy and socially conscious. The grains are from fair trade certified African farmers who still drink dirty water but now have Ipads, while the eggs are from a farm where all the chickens have names like Margery, Gertrude or Dorothy and are given therapy after their eggs are taken. Anyway, I saw a gruff young bearded man at a nearby table with an older woman. He was wearing a beanie with some unkempt hair escaping its bottom, and was dressed in boatshoes, sweatpants, with a ratty v-neck shirt pulled over his pot belly. The waitress came up to them with a smile and her note pad.

“Coffee for starters?” she asked. He hacked a cough like the pack-a-day smoker he looked, and said in a deep rough voice as he cleared his throat, “Yeah, black thanks”. He looked to the older woman and said “Hows about you Ma?”. She nodded and said in a nice polite voice, “Please, though with a little milk”. “No worries, I’ll be back in a moment”, said the waitress, walking over to the barista machine. A few minutes later she returned with their coffees and was about to move on when the older woman pulled her shirt to one side and removed a swollen and engorged breast. The scruffy man held his cup out and started reaching for the breast, then paused and asked, “Hey Ma, you mind doing a few star jumps? I kinda feel like a cappuccino”.

At this point the waitress interrupted the exchange. “Sorry, you’re not actually allowed to bring in your own breast milk, though if you like we have a Fijian wet-waitress here who produces only the finest milk. It has a full, rich flavour and froths heartily when she jiggles. It’s quite popular with the other kids in their coffees and shakes.” “But I want my Ma’s milk”, whined the gruff young man. At this point the mother stood up and gently guided her son’s bearded face to her exposed breast, glaring at the waitress. “My son is a young man, not a kid, and I thank you not to upset him” As the waitress stood there in shock, the mother gently rocked her son’s head, stroking it lovingly as he suckled. I sat there amazed and a little sickened at what I had just seen, though my attention was soon dragged away when my waitress arrived with my meal. “One medium rare Placenta burger”

The older woman smiled lovingly and she reached over and pinched her son’s cheek. “Anything for my darling boy. So “Ah, thank you!” I exclaimed. big and strong!”

lazy SUNDAYS: saturated in sun light

The blueprints

Are you sick of rocking up to your local skate park only to find it swarming with pimply, arrogant little scooter riding dwarfs? Are you sick of crossing your fingers all day pleading with the heavens for it to not bucket down and ruin you night out? Are you tired of coming to the realisation that you can’t even drop in? Don’t you wish you could skate like the pros that you idolise online? Well prepare to have all your wildest dreams come true because you have been given the keys to the kingdom. Opposite are the blueprints to the infamous Blenheim indoor ply skate ramp. You can now build your very own ply mini ramp and spend your glory days covered in bruises and smiles as you glide up and down, listing to your favourite turns and sipping your favourite brews. Enjoy… you greedy bastards!

The blueprints

The blueprints

Fashions fade, style is eternal.




pizza for chumps A kind girl once showed me the pizza dough recipe detailed in the following pages. It is unknown to me why she would share this incredible device with me, perhaps out of pity for my misfortunate cooking abilities. Whatever reason she imparted this priceless knowledge onto me it was not intended for the purposes I’ve exploited it for. I have utilized this recipe for my own selfish purposes and used it to impress unsuspecting guests and to gain respect in the kitchen from many a house mate. You could be Steve Urkel and still manage to woo the likes of Megan Gale with the power that lies in this magic dough. But be warned this recipe should be used only on special occasions otherwise your guests will become accustomed to high quality cuisine and all other attempts to impress will be utter disasters.

Ingredients • • • • • • •

1 kg of lighthouse bread and pizza bakers flour 1 tsp fine salt 2 x 7g sachets of dry yeast 1 tbsp golden caster sugar 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 650ml lukewarm water Extra (plain) flour for dusting

HOW TO: • In large jug, add to the water the yeast then the sugar and then the olive oil. Mix it gently and let stand for a few minutes. • Meanwhile, sieve the flour and salt together into a large plastic bowl • Make a deep well in the middle • Pour your yeasty mix into the well. • Using a fork, gradually mix the flour from the sides of the well into the yeasty mix until it all starts coming together. • With clean, flour dusted hands: begin to work dough through, knead ing it until it is soft and springy. • make sure the bowl is cleaned and properly dried. Dust it with flour and place the dough inside. Cover it with a new slightly damp tea towel and leave to rest on the stove. • Turn on the oven on to 190 C to preheat- this will warm the dough and help it rise - don't forget to heat the pizza stone. • Leave dough for an hour - it should double in size. • When you're ready, knead the dough again, to knock the air out of it. • Seperate into portions and roll out. • Spread tomato paste onto rolled pizza bases. • Sprinkle what ever toppings you desire onto each pizza base. • Place in the oven and keep watch until the pizzas are cooked to perfec tion.


the third issue from the OSCAR MIKE crew


the third issue from the OSCAR MIKE crew