You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead – Marieke Hardy

‘She was topless on a bed reading the paper, Her breasts were truly magnificent. Oh dear I thought. This could be interesting.’

That’s Dan writing. Ms Hardy has given him the right of reply – as she does all her subjects in this collection of extended vignettes from her somewhat, in various phases, hedonistic life story to date. And that is very fair of her as she calls it as she sees it – no beg pardons with Marieke, no protecting the not so innocent with aliases – even though her dad (who scribed the forward) informs that he fully expected this forthrightness would land her in deep do-do. She would cop the flack in the name of authenticity – a brave lass our author

sorry when dead

Dan, having know her in a platonic mode for a while and having enough of couch surfing, was looking for somewhere to lay his head a little more permanently. Marieke was coming out of a shattered, shattering relationship and needed a diversion. Both had their reservations, especially when his proposed host’s breasts were publicly exposed without inhibition, as is this lady’s wont. Marieke writes honestly of her doubts about him as house mate too. Do they decide to take the plunge and if the answers in the affirmative, how will it turn out?

And, as for those breasts, I can only agree with Dan. Yes, they are tastefully still available to googling – I’ve done my research you see. The whole affair of her bosoms is a piss-take Marieke felt compelled to issue on Rennie Ellis’ iconic shot of the human headline, Derryn Hinch, in bed, perusing the local dailies, with a similarly unencumbered playmate. Naturally there is a bearded, simpering Hinch doppelganger sharing Marieke’s bed in the rejoinder.

In ‘You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead’ Marieke Hardy shares this, together with numerous other adventures, with us and she is certainly no shrinking violet. Her use of language and her libertarian values, as expressed and carried out in these pages, assure the reader of that. For her the execrable shock-jock Alan Jones is a ‘…sordid little cock stain.’ with no right to ‘…pass judgement on the behaviour of young women in burqas whilst simultaneously being arrested for indecency in public toilet blocks.’ Good call that.

I like Marieke Hardy. I like her very much and if I was mildly shocked by some of her antics, as revealed here, I am not put off. Watching her on ‘The First Tuesday Book Club’ – well it’s a bit like Nigella sucking on her chocolate dipped digits. It’s mildly titillating. Marieke is unafraid to push the envelope, unlike the majority of us. She gets high on the edginess of life, whether it be running with a pack of similarly charged damsels, engaging in a threesome with a prostitute, attending a party for swingers or sussing out a range of suitable bedfellows. I have seen her in the flesh and she is just as exquisite as she appears on the small screen.


I initially came across her in her former guise as columnist for the Melbourne Age; then secondly, as I drove to work each morning, trading jibes with the Doctor on the JJJs breakfast show. Sadly she has long given up both these gigs to concentrate on her other claims to fame – writing for ‘Frankie’ magazine, blogging, editing, running the charitable ‘Women of Letters’ – a ‘performance’ of which your scribe attended in 2013 – and some television. She is a throwback when it comes to letter writing, crusading around the country single-handedly drumming up business for OzPost by attempting to rejuvenate that format of communication. Recently, Marieke and her partner in crime, Michaela McGuire, have taken their ‘WofL’ roadshow international. Seemingly people cannot get enough of letter writers of note reading their handiwork, always on a certain set topic, out to a like-minded audience. The print version is into its third volume. Our author adores scribing and receiving hand written missives. For her a letter is akin to ‘… a long and leisurely afternoon lying naked on a picnic rug eating a Flake.’ Her own writing, as represented in this tome, is engaging. Being the granddaughter of Frank and having Mary as an aunt, it is in her genes. A real gem is MH’s description of the mayhem resulting when her dog, Bob Ellis, meets its namesake, the rotund scribbler, one of Marieke’s obsessions. It is priceless humour.

Marieke’s exuberant book is sassy, spunky and feisty – just like the woman herself. Live a long life the divine Ms H.

A recent article on Women of Letters in the Age =

Marieke’s website =

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