See, the reason the title works so well is because my nieces are referred to as AJ and Harry, and there's a wrestler called AJ Styles, and some famous singer called Harry Styles, and the two girls fight a bit, which is kinda like a clash, and the Styles Clash is the name of one of AJ Styles's finishing moves. Therefore it works perfectly and isn't convoluted and each aspect is so immediately obvious to everyone, the whole thing requires no explanation. I'm unreasonably happy to have thought of it.
But, anyway. There I was, alone in my bro's house except for the dog. Once I'd put my stuff in my allocated room - a different room to last year - I let her back in to get acquainted a bit more. She's, er, boisterous.
That's kinda it. My first full day in Sydney is, if anything, even less blogworthy. Stayed in bed until 11am, Kevin got back half hour later and we went for breakfast in Manly. It's cloudy and storm battered.
Back home via the greatest off licence on earth, where we have free samples of balsamic vinegar stout. It's not right, that stuff. Then get the girls from school and chaos ensues.
Dinner was at the local Leagues club, which is kinda like the British legion. I need my passport badly scanned to gain entrance. At 6pm I think there's a power cut but no, everyone must stand, face west, and join in with a prayer for fallen comrades. Ok then.
Then back to the sofas. Emotional blackmail to get kids to bed, a stream of YouTube video trades - Kevin and Sally will never not hear Fall Out Boy's "This ain't a scene" without hearing "goddamned arse face". They're welcome. And more dark beers.