Today I met Alf Stewart…

…And I honestly feel like a little chapter of my life is complete. As the rest of Sydney (or at least its pre-teen population) sobbed into their Hello Kitty tissues over the cancellation of a Justin Bieber-based day of media mingling and his concert/shameless public display of child abuse, one of my dreams came true.

Although I too may have obsessed over teenage heroes in my youth, specifically Joey from New Kids on the Block, it was Alf I raced home for every evening after school… Home and Away that was always there. It never cancelled on me. And if it did, it always had a bloody good excuse. None of this “Oooh I’m so sick, I just got mobbed by 7000 pre-pubescent girls waving crop tops and copies of Twilight at my ferry in Circular Quay” type shit. Grow some balls Bieber; you wanna take a leaf out of Alf Stewart’s book. He’s been on that show for 22 years AND he’s done 17 pantomimes in the UK (so he told us). Did he ever moan about his schedule and hole himself up in a hotel away from his fans? NO. Alf is a man. Alf welcomed his fans. And he didn’t need YouTube to help him get to the top either (although that would be cool – sing us a song about “babies”, Alfie?)

Respect to the Stewart. We’re best friends now, as you can see. And yes, he may look like he’s standing there, rigid as a Robert Pattinson waxwork, thinking “Who the fuck is this freak draping herself about my person” but he’s actually thinking how nice I am and how he’s going to invite me over to his house for some tea.

Justin Bieber, eat your heart out. You could have come Home to Mama, but you chose to go Away (geddit?). Alf wins. You lose. CRY ABOUT IT.