Holty does the Arias

Small things, it seems, amuse small-town folk.

We used to play a game we’d call “Who’s at the ballgame?” It’s where you find someone at a local do – usually a wedding, birthday party or funeral – who looks like someone famous.

In my case, a slightly over-weight great auntie was sporting a hint of a beard and moustache. Hence, Pavarotti was at the ballgame. One point to me!

Last night, my wife and I sat front-row at the Arias, overlooking people in bright-coloured suits and white sneakers devour Thai green curry chicken and Crown Lagers while we tucked into our alcohol-free-zone Sprite and plastic-cheese burger.

I guess they didn’t know what they were missing out on.

“Hey look,” she says. “That looks like the lead singer of Thirsty Merc.”

Was this a challenge? One point to you.

There’s the comedian who makes a living out of calling Kyle Sandilands a tool. Two points to me: One because I found a Dave Hughes look-alike; a second because Kyle Sandilands IS a tool.

“The bloke in the cowboy hat has got to be Molly Meldrum; the short fellow on stage is Rove McManus; and there’s the pirate from the Wiggles just in front of us.”

Three points to wife. Game on.

Behind me, about two rows back in the cheap seats, a woman way too old to be regarded a groupie, screams in a voice as equally unflattering as her sun frock and flip flop shoes:

“I love you Daniel (Johns, as in Silverchair).”

Who asked you to play anyway?

“I love you Bernie (Fanning, as in Powderfinger).”

She was good, but got better.

“I love yooooooooo Keith (Urban, as in the guy who evidently has a more effective drug rehabilitation quack than Ben Cousens).”

That gave me an idea. I’ll take a point for the chick next to him who looks – albeit a little older – like the lead chick in BMX Bandits.

And given I’m in love with Missy Higgins, the flip flop girl’s tactics were rubbing off. I love you Missy! Sorry wife. I love you, too.

Two men with a few too many lagers under their skin share love of their own on the floor in front of us. But they don’t care about the game.

And Delta Goodrem. Ooh, nice gold dress. Nice smile. That girl there looks like someone. Nice, er, top. Many nice tops around the room. Many nice bottoms.

Whack!

“Shut up,” interrupts wife. “There’s that pretty Dean boy from Australian Idol holding hands with one half of the Veronicas girls. Terrible top. Terrible bottom. The Geyer boy’s not nearly as good looking in real life.”

Okay, two points to you.

“What points? What are you talking about, you fool?”

The game, remember the game?

“What game?”

Oh, so you’re not playing the game?

“Why are you not important enough to get me tickets down with those other people so we can eat real food?”

Uh, I don’t know. But the game’s much more fun to play in Sydney.

Who have you seen at the ballgame lately?