Tuesday, 15 April 2014
A chance interview has brought me back to where it all started – my dalliance with the media.
Oh, the tales I could tell about what happened behind these doors. The chairs being thrown across the managing director’s office. The parties. The tears. The music. The pranks. The sleepless nights spent staring into computer screens. That guy who received a box containing a fresh nugget of human excrement for a Secret Santa present. Rats. Booze. Pizza. Drugs. Debauchery.
It was awesome.
Well, that was 15 years ago, and they’ve since moved to North Sydney and are owned by Germans. The current occupiers of this sacred rat-hole appear to be running an art gallery of some kind.