Cassowary Crossing

Matador Turnbull is a 24 year-old fund manager, living in Point Piper, not far from his proud sire Malcolm. (Thanks Simon L for that update.)

Toost Depp is a spring-heeled cutie whose Daddy plays Mad Hatters and madder barbers on set. (Newcomer Fred gave us this Fantale factoid.)

Bill Gates, when not soldering mother boards and giving millions to Africa, is playing ping-pong with his brood: Water, Ute, Contra, Camilla, Iguana (with Bingle on the way). All this goss courtesy of The Silicon Scuttlebutt, edited by Mr X.

While Reverend Spooner, reckons marmaloid, had a lead-footed daughter named Heedie. (You’ll need to ponder on that to get the full cleverness.)

However, after much hemming and hawing, cigar puffing and corridor pacing, I have great pleasure in setting a Brainstorm precedent, namely a trifecta for DG. Sure, his brainwave was more like a Chilean tsunami, but so much of that deluge was delicious, with the three chosen Celebabes all sharp whacks to the humerus: 

The Sesame Streep Award – Grassy Noll (You can almost imagine a country singer going for this herbal handle, with a lethal payoff.)

The Mayne Streep Medal – Sexma Sheen (Could Sexma be this lothario’s sixth love-child? The pun is as good as the outcome’s descriptive powers.)

Koala T Streep Cup – Lukat Lukat Moimoi (On field, this Samoan Eel can inflict the damage of a runaway Kenilworth. On paper, DG’s gag has an equivalent impact.)

Never thought it could be done, but DG just did it, a pool-scooping Storm by a single player. Let’s see if next week will be someone else’s monopoly. As for Celebabes (to quote DG), let’s Turnitt Hoffman.

Eight Huhs this week, two clues each from four different crosswords. Does that mean these puzzles were doubly hard, or I was being twice the dope? Help me decide. Any explanations/theories welcome.

In most of these head-scratchers, I get the gist, but can’t determine what role some stray words (rubbing? plump?) are playing in the mix, or how one part of the solution is provided by the wordplay. This is where you wisdom comes in, I’m hoping.  Please, unravel away.

1] Will yet another, final unpleasant event, bring end to stay of execution? = CAPITALLY [Io]

2] To wear surgeons down and up, he loads and unloads = STEVEDORE [Io]

3] Trio in C heard in new arrangement outside country = ARCHDUKE  [Alberich]

4] Plump old lady maintaining Italy is best = OPTIMUM [Alberich]

5] Rubbing along top of wall = COPING [Times 8582] 

6] Fencing preserve, climbing and working = EVASION [Times 8582]

7] Caller providing a solution = RINGER [Gordius]

8] Capability say without lands to frolic = FABRIC [Gordius]

Fifi Trixibelle Geldof has a name only slightly more bizarre than her sister, Peaches. And dare we mention Sage Moonblood Stallone or Kal-El Cage?

Meanwhile Dweezil Zappa is still cranking out rock riffs, almost twenty years after losing his dad, Frank. Though lately Zowie Bowie directs films (including the recent Moon) under the genteel alias of Duncan Jones.

Anyhow – in the wake of the Academy Awards – let’s invent some kooky babies whose names can make strange-and-wonderful connections with their famous surnames.

If Dweezil and Moonblood are any guide, no orthodoxy really exists. Though obviously the surname you choose (like Paltrow or Stallone – either mum or dad) needs to match. Here’s my early shot at christening:

Twins for Russell: Scaire and Eton Crowe

Show-Mi De Niro

Amabo Obama

Lose-Too Winfrey

Tonzelle Hockey

Pick any well-known name from around the traps – at home or abroad, in arts or biz, Tinsel Town or downtown. Just make the baby name aptly ridiculous, and create some eye-catching synergy with the surname of choice. You have till late Friday to get thee to a font.

Let’s look for three winners this week, in honour of Meryl’s famous triplets: Sesame Streep (2.3kg), Mayne Streep (3.4kg) and Koala T Streep (5kgs). Quick, the obstetric ward awaits.

You have three weeks and counting if you want to crack the Meanjin puzzle(s) I crafted for Meanjin last month. A cryptic and a quick, both sets of clues embedded in dashes of flippant literature.

This second heads-up is due to the good souls of Grattan Street posting the puzzles, and entry details, on the Meanjin blogsite. In other words, if Meanjin is off your distribution radar, or you’d rather spend the money on buying goats for Uganda, then here’s your golden ticket to glory – gratis.

Though be warned. The solving is only half the puzzle. The rest is down to your Muse, arranging the 22 answers into a piece of writing, with the winning executions running in a future edition.

Which great author will you channel – the e-free genius of Georges Perec or a brisk ditty in honour of Edward Lear? Perhaps a florid shot of Winterson? A dour dose of Carveresque grunge? (I’m halfway though a Filipino novel at the moment – Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco – and he’s opted to combine noir with memoir/chatroom/dirty jokes/Pacific history/Trainspotting: any genre is your oyster.) So sharpen the quill and get solving.

All twelve clues lead to a word or phrase that rhymes with hi-fi. You ready? Let’s hope the answer mimcs Mr Sparrow: AYE-AYE.

1) Rum cocktail 

2) Kids’ game

3) Rot!

4) 2005 Disney flick

5) Gibson genre

6) Desert

7) Loyalty point

8] Hippie pattern

9) Supremes single

10) Lure

11) Hooroo

SOLUTION NEXT WEEK

BB247 SOLUTION: With your harmonies through the week, the extended solution includes awe/or, eye/I, you/ewe, a/eh, ki/quay, eau/oh and auk/orc. Is that the lot?

You lot found ‘1000 uses’ for those famous Greek girls. Puns. Hiddens. Anagrams. Sandwiches. Every recipe the tenth Muse (Cryptica) murmured in your ear. So now it boils down to who did what best with which sister, and the aftermath looks like this:

CALLIOPE = Howl at the moon sport [AS]

(DG went very close. May I suggest a tweak: Kinks epic, Lola. And also a spur to marmaloid, whose inklings about EPIC with ALL and O are worth chasing.)

CLIO = Workaholic without a husband [Mr X]

(Again DG was unlucky with this: Muscles lose weekly definition for X? It’s almost too clever to be fair. But bravo for the brainwave. In the end I deferred on the side of merciful. SG made a sublime discovery too, with diminishing Roman numbers….this was one tough judging gig!)

ERATO = Address bipolar temper [DG]

(Despite not fully grasping this clue’s nuance, I can appreciate how ORATE can swing in its extremes. A bit more work needed, perhaps, on a fine idea.)

EUTERPE = It’s whispered you peter out [Mr X]

MELPOMENE = Gibson poem about direction [Simon L]

POLYHYMNIA = Handy Olympian in curling [DG]

(And firm applause for the late-arriving SG: Holy crap! Mandy is rolling in terrible pain)

TERPSICHORE = Choir peters out [to dance inspiration] [DG – a nice echo of Mr X’s Euterpe clue too]

(Special mention to Simon L for his PREHISTORIC idea, which was ironically fresh. Plus SG for cocktailing TERPS with ICHOR + E….nifty work all setters)

THALIA = Maria embraces computer [AS, with a few more nudges perhaps: Publican’s Maria packing 2001 computer]

URANIA = Turn Delhi princess at midday [Mr X. Maybe surface sense could benefit with slight adjustment: Upstart meeting Delhi princess at midday]

Morally, you may argue, DG is our overall winner, gaining two glowing mentions in addition to his three firm placings. However Aesop is the only Greek I know who’s ties up with morals…

…meaning Mr X (with three Muses) and DG (with ditto) must halve the laurel branches. While AS (with two) and Simon L (his sole Melpomene) can skol a retsina and do a Zorba high-kick. And a free shot to SG too, for three honorable mentions.

All in all some fine musing, Stormers, from amusing to amazing. Thanks for such an inspired 60+ response.

Love this last bunch. In the space of seven exquisite clues, we flit from Hercules to Andy Warhol, via a spot of wolf-dancing on the second fairway. Perhaps easier than the last two lots, only cryptic powerhouses will unravel full list. Feel free to speculate in the post section, or go all-out and name the solutions. I dare ya.

1c) Warhol trailer not shown in old-time concert hall (5) [Neo]

2c) Opening for pro, say, in golf club (6) [Cincinnus]

3c) Without a spring-clean it is untidy (9) [Crux]

4c) Pot stand (7) [Crux]

5c) Dances With Wolves primarily about a problem with fitting in? (6) [Cincinnus]

6c) Guilty offering, but innocence comes out at end of day (10,5) [Times 8617]

7c) Ignoring the odds, Herculean task initially bringing great success (5) [Times 8617]

LAST BATCH’S SOLUTION: Layers, conjugally, nominal, dog, reference, extra, antagonise

Two months ago, we did reindeers. This time round, going up a brow or two, we turn our focus to another notable nine – the Muses. You know these inspiring sisters by heart, I’m sure:

Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry

Clio, history

Erato, lyric poetry (as opposed to net porn)

Euterpe, music

Melpomene, tragedy

Polyhymnia, choral poetry

Terpsichore, dance

Thalia, comedy

Urania, astronomy

Your challenge is to compose a neat cryptic clue for any sister who tickles your fancy. For TERPSICHORE, say, you may suggest:

Priest buggered task (mix of PRIEST + CHORE)

Or for CLIO: 

C-crude comeback (C + OIL reversed)

As with my two stabs, there’s no need to provide a definition. Just nominate the Muse you choose, and lay the clue upon us. The nine best nine – one for each sister – will make the Master List on Saturday. The winner is the stormer to craft the most top clues.

Feel free to revisit any one Muse on numerous occasions, improving your draft, or taking a new approach. If ERATO has earned several gems, then test your nerve with POLYHYMNIA, or vice versa, wherever the Muse leads you. So invoke the family’s second cousin – Cryptica – and get composing.

At the risk of sounding a tad K-Tel, here are the next sizzlers of summer. With an Aussie flavour too. Not just the first clue, but Styx is the alias of David Stickley, a name familiar to homegrown solvers for his regular Stickler puzzle in the Telegraph, as well as the Omega whopper in the SMH.

Like few others, David has recently dispatched his craft across the pond to stick it to British solvers in The Financial Times. With a clue like Number 6 in this batch, I’d say his success is a shoo-in.

Spoilers will be lurking in the posts, of course. Some gnarly customers in this batch:

1b) Musical finale with Australian rock bands (6)  [Times 8558]

2b) Prisoner taking cellmate, perhaps, as wife? (10) [Times 8558]

3b) ‘In name only’ finishes off as this alternative version? (7) [Alberich]

4b) Curtail this in different parts of speech (3) [Times 8589]

5b) Mention having cup of tea skimmed (9) [Paul]

6b) Bonus remuneration removed from dodgy taxpayer (5) [Styx]

7b) Insect is tucking into a dead bug (10) [Times 8600]

LAST BATCH SOLUTION: Space cadet, sunglasses, item, carol, rat on, wayward, seventy

Homophones – such as PRIZE and PRISE – typically share more than a few letters. Yet what SIX separate homophone pairs reveal not a single letter shared by either partner? Award yourself a prize for naming four pairs at least.

SOLUTION NEXT WEEK

BB246 SOLUTION: In top to bottom order: rest, acne, SHIN, hops; EYES, rove, aria, sell; wife, acid, long, KNEE; NAPE, agog, rung, keys.