Katy Perry shakes off social media hate at triumphant opening Aus show
Australia gets Katy Perry because Katy Perry gets Australia.
The pop superstar shook off the social media pile-ons of recent months to take a quintessential tall poppy potshot at herself at her opening Lifetimes concert in Sydney on Wednesday.
When complaining of jetlagged tiredness, exacerbated by her daughter Daisy Dove waking her at 5am on the morning of her first Australian gig, Perry said she had come prepared for the challenge.
'You can't tell I'm tired because I got fresh Botox for Australia!' she declared to huge cheers from the audience.
And the scream-o-meter, the true gauge of a concert's success, remained pushing into the red for the entirety of her two-hour neon pop dream at Qudos Bank Arena.
They laughed again with her when she shared an on-stage wardrobe emergency, calling for an assistant to unzip her costume 'because I've been eating too many Tim Tams.'
The last time Perry was down under last September, she roared at the MCG for a generally well-received AFL grand final performance worth a reported $5 million pay cheque.
Her culture stocks in Australia proved to be buoyant when she announced her Lifetimes tour, with more than 170,000 tickets to 15 concerts in five capital cities selling out instantly.
Since then she has been the subject of savage social media pile-ons for missteps, from working with controversial producer Dr Luke on her 143 record, and its lacklustre chart performance, to that Blue Origin celebrity space flight folly.
But put Perry on a stage, in front of a sold-out crowd of true believers, the day after an epically suburban stop at a western Sydney shopping mall during rehearsals, and it is abundantly apparent the oversized outrage hasn't downsized the devotion of her fans.
Their ranks have been bolstered by a sizeable contingent of tweens and teens who lapped up Perry's high-flying, fluoro-lit spectacle which was humanised by a generosity of spirit.
The fans dressed to impress their idol in the costumes of her various eras, and squealed with delight when she launched into the dance breaks and light-sabre battles which were mocked online as cringey and awkward when the tour opened in Mexico in April, but make perfect sense within the context of the Lifetimes show.
After all, she's playing a half-human, half-robot character in this video game-inspired concert, battling villainous machines on her mission to restore girl power and all the lovey-dovey stuff to counter the nasty world order.
One of the highlights of the show happened during the Choose Your Own Adventure segment - which appears to be more pre-determined than granting the sign requests held up by fans in the front rows - when she brought fans on stage to perform Thinking of You from her 2008 album One of the Boys.
The 18-year-old Left Shark superfan Elliott, who brought his two younger sisters and cousin to the show, was declared an MVP for his pop stewardship of his family, as the cute group from western Sydney joined her to play chicken egg-shakers during the song. It was a suitably heart-warming moment in a show that, by its hi-tech nature, is tightly choreographed.
The Lifetimes show's intention is pure pop escapism soundtracked by a career-spanning collection of hits which have spun more than 25 billion streams and counting - albeit with a little too many of the misses from the 143 record.
The Dark Horse pop queen may not possess the vocal chops and choreography skills of Beyonce, or the edgy dark pop drama of Billie Eilish, but this seasoned entertainer knows how to put on a great pop show.
And she's got 14 more of them to perform in Australia before this leg of her world tour wraps at the end of the month.
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News.com.au
an hour ago
- News.com.au
‘They walk among us': Inside Australia's top secret society of ‘real life vampires'
Mobsters. Doctors. Politicians. Musicians. What's the common thread connecting this motley crew? They're all in Australia's secret society of real vampires. Spawned from the goth subculture, this shadowy community – known as a 'vampire court' – now includes Aussies from all sorts of walks of life. Think real vampires are just pale people drinking red cordial? Think again. To many of its followers, the true blood lifestyle is about much more than fashion. It's about survival. And though they might not transform into bats or live forever, they do drink real human blood, wear surgically-enhanced fangs and let loose at vampire balls. These days, their ranks are being quietly pumped by social media and the decline of religion. Just don't ask these creatures of the night to throw light on their very dark way of life. They claim they keep to themselves and aren't dangerous. But critics claim some vampires use this cloak of secrecy to exploit people. So are they really monsters? Medical mysteries? Or just misunderstood? 'I want revenge' For centuries, vampire folklore has compelled us. Tales of bloodsucking beasts can be found in ancient cultures around the world including First Nations people. But in the last few decades, they've been forever fixed in pop culture as a romanticised symbol of finding identity in the world. This romanticism is at the heart of the complex history between real vampires and Sydney local Crystal, who does not wish to share her real name. On one hand, Crystal claims they've drugged her. Drank her blood without consent. Even forced her to drink the blood of others. On the other hand, she remains transfixed by their mythical morbidity. For Crystal, it all began when she was invited to an opulent mansion party in Sydney's affluent suburb of Vaucluse when she was just 18. Crystal, who was drawn to gothic culture at the time, said the house belonged to the father of a friend of a friend who worked as a nurse. Inside the party, she claims to have found herself in imposing company. She was greeted by yakuza and triads – otherwise known as the Japanese and Chinese mafias. 'They were just standing around wearing suits and watching anime movies', Crystal told 'And they weren't shy about what they did'. As it happened, the mafia is not the only bloodthirsty group these men belonged to. Crystal soon learned they were part of the Australian chapter of an international 'vampire court'. Inside, Crystal says she was given a glass of champagne. Soon after drinking it, she claims she sat on a couch and lost consciousness. When she woke up, she alleges she felt lightheaded and her neck and arms were dotted by what she calls 'love bites'. Looking back, she believes she'd been drugged. There were no other signs of assault. 'I didn't know what to think at the time,' she says. Before she left, Crystal was given a dark diagnosis. 'They told me I'd been infected with the virus.' She never reported her experience to the police. Indeed, real vampires would come back to haunt her before long. After moving into a Newcastle monastery to study business, Crystal met members of a local court. While things started safely, one night the group pressured her to drink from a bottle of red. It was human blood mixed with cordial. 'They said, 'it's time to join us',' says Crystal. 'You can't choose to join this society. They choose you.' Feeling powerless, Crystal agreed. But the court came harder than ever. Another night, Crystal woke with puncture wounds on her wrist. Crystal believes the vampires had fed on her while she slept. She kept quiet about the incident because the court had 'powerful people on their side.' 'There are doctors, nurses, business owners and musicians,' she says. 'It's very secretive. From the outside, they live normal lives.' Until now, Crystal kept her experience to herself out of fear she would not be taken seriously. Or worse. But now, she wants to raise awareness. 'I want revenge for how I was treated.' Despite this messy history, Crystal's experience with the court was forever imprinted onto her self-image. She hopes to one day launch a safe-space for people to appreciate vampire culture. Medical mystery Crystal's disturbing account is not unlike a scene in a horror movie, where vampires lunge from the shadows and maul victims' necks before sucking on the flowing wine-like liquid. It's important to note that vampiric crime is rare, and abusers of power are far from unique to the courts. For most members, this community offer a sense of belonging, and some courts are heavily involved with charity causes. Not all 'real vampires' feed on blood. And for those who do, the practice is traditionally safe. So how does it work? What's known as a 'donor' will willingly offer their blood to a vampire. Both take medical tests and other precautions. Complications are rare. Which is fine. But it begs another question: why? Real vampires claim they feel sick and lethargic if they don't feed on human blood. It balances their energy. Some believe this thirst for blood is a sign of a deeper mental health problem. So is it all a big delusion? When vampires follow a code of silence, it's not easy to say. But that secrecy is well founded. They've learned the hard way their lifestyle inspires revulsion. That's why this community stays in the shadows. Most Australian vampires I contacted for this story declined to take part in it. One local fanged figure you need to know is Jason De Marco, otherwise known as Don Jason. Don Jason runs the Sydney Vampires Meetup Group. He's also an electioneering member of the Liberal Party, bringing new meaning to idea of a bloodsucking polly. At least this one is honest. In a YouTube video made by married artists Gillie and Marc Schattner, Jason is seen wearing Edwardian-era clothing, surgically-enhanced fangs, and a wide smile. Among the graves of Waverley cemetery, he says Don Jason first knew what he was aged four. 'I was different to other children' Jason said. 'I said I'm going to grow up and be Dracula.' He says he drinks exclusively from the razor-sliced thighs of female donors. They don't just consent to this feeding. They're aroused by it. 'They seem to get an orgasm off it every time,' he claimed. 'People can assume we're insane: why do you have this need to drink blood?' 'The only thing I have to worry about is my innate illness, which was ironically an illness associated with the vampire myth.' 'My vitals can shut down and I look like a corpse. People who had it used to be buried alive.' Marc Schattner said Don Jason suffers from porphyria, a rare blood disorder thought to have inspired early vampire mythology. 'It can cause symptoms like extreme sensitivity to sunlight, skin blisters, and a reddish-purple discolouration,' he says. Jason is an extreme example. Some people just like vampires for a good old-fashioned doof. 'Not merely an event' The dawn of the vampire ball is misty. Sometime during the rise of Europe's medieval masquerade balls, a darker event emerged in honour of the undead. These days, the vampire ball circuit is an international network spanning Romania, the US and Australia. Melbourne's annual Carpe Noctem Vampire Ball was recently held in April. The founder of the event, who asked to remain anonymous, said it's about something bigger than costumes. 'More than just an opportunity to don elaborate attire, the Carpe Noctem Vampire Ball is a celebration of identity and belonging.' After a signature 'bloodbath cocktail' (ingredients undisclosed), the crowd – comprised of goths, role players and the real deal – take part in rituals including a 'sacrifice' that 'lifts the veil between the living and the dead.' Australian vampires Few real-vampires claim to have the magical powers you'll find in Twilight. But if I had to throw money on one of them being superhuman, Andreas Bathory is the one. He dwells on the sprawling grounds of Bran 'Dracula's' Castle in Romania's Transylvania. With these walls, Bathory drinks donated blood. Sometimes sleeps in a coffin. And channels Vlad the Impaler. 'It's not merely an event' Bathory says. 'It's a portal.' Bathory is the leader of the Ordo Dracul, a vampire court based in Transylvania. And he says more and more Aussies are signing up. 'New initiates are joining from Australia. Some of my dearest allies come from Melbourne and the Gold Coast,' he said. 'Australia resonates with the old blood.' Bathory believes these vampires thrive in silence. 'Just because we're not loud, doesn't mean we're not present. In our world we prefer to walk the line of shadows.' 'Realise their full potential' The University of Western Sydney's Dr Adam Possamai charted the rise of real vampires in his book Sociology of Religion for Generations X and Y. He believes it's a 'hyper-real religion' – a modern hybrid of religion, philosophy and popular culture that helps people find their identity in a noisy world. 'The vampire is no longer a monster that needs to be destroyed,' he said. 'It's now a superman-type of character that people aspire to become to realise their full potential. 'As society becomes more consumerist, I expect hyper-real religions like vampires to grow. But it's tricky to quantify.' 'Are they people who identify with the image alone? How far do their practices go? And how long will they keep them up?' Though Australian vampire groups have picked up have thousands of members on social media, the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) said in a statement they don't formally recognise vampires. 'Vampires don't describe a stand-alone group in any of the statistical standard classifications used to disseminate Census data,' a spokesperson said. 'The ABS regularly reviews statistical standard classifications and holds public consultations to ensure standard classifications reflect the Australian community.' Until vampires are socially acknowledged, we'll never know how many of them walk among us or what secrets they hold.
Daily Telegraph
an hour ago
- Daily Telegraph
High Steaks: How Hindy dines out on one Eel of a career
Don't miss out on the headlines from NSW. Followed categories will be added to My News. Nathan Hindmarsh knows it's coming. He can't escape it. Even 13 long years after retiring as a Parramatta Eels legend – 330 games, 60 tries, 17 Origin matches and 23 Tests – it's the one thing he wasn't able to achieve that is continually brought up. That elusive premiership. Seemingly reminded of it on an almost weekly basis by his TV colleagues on the Matty Johns Show, surely Hindmarsh is bitter at not being able to shake off those two agonising grand final losses? His hearty laugh suggests otherwise. 'Look, if they didn't bring it up I wouldn't be on the show,'' he chuckles. 'That's the only thing keeping me in a job pretty much, either my weight or not winning a premiership.'' Nathan Hindmarsh at Kyubi restaurant at Campbelltown Catholic Club. Picture: Richard Dobson Oh, and the bagging he regularly cops for 'flopping'' throughout his career. 'The flops shit me a little bit,'' he concedes. 'I've definitely flopped on a few people, but there's an art to it because you (need to avoid) being penalised. There's a split second between being a flop or being a third man in, so I made it an art.'' Nathan Hindmarsh on the attack in his last game. But, try as he might to convince others – including his four sons – that the ribbing he cops on-air is just good television, he admits it can be difficult to make his case. 'I try to tell my boys at home that I did have some sort of decent career, playing the game, but they don't believe me because they're too busy listening to those other dickheads I go to work with on a Thursday and Sunday.'' Hindmarsh, who retired as a one-club player at the end of the 2012 season, has been fortunate in his post-footy life, and has his fingers in several pies – literally. Along with his TV and radio gigs, Hindmarsh is also an ambassador for the Your Local Club Perfect Plate Awards, for which he travels around sampling some of the best club restaurant meals in the state. The Schottlander's Wagyu steak striploin with yuzu kosho, gai lan, yakiniku sauce at Kyubi restaurant at Campbelltown Catholic Club. Picture: Richard Dobson One such meal will be crowned the winner when the competition ends next Sunday. It has led us today to the Campbelltown Catholic Club's Kyubi restaurant, where we are dining on its signature dish – and one of the hot entries in this year's awards – the Schottlanders Wagyu steak. As we savour the tender, medium rare striploin, the conversation turns to the other meaty subject on today's menu – Hindmarsh's record-breaking career at Parramatta. His journey to becoming one of the club's all-time greats began in the backyard of his family's home at Robertson, in the NSW Southern Highlands, where he made the switch from soccer to rugby league at age 12 at the behest of his parents, who feared for the safety of their daughter. 'It was my mum and dad because I kept beating the shit out of my younger sister playing footy in the backyard. I was getting to that age where I was getting too strong for her.'' It was at his junior club, the Moss Vale Dragons, where Hindmarsh was 'discovered'' by then Parramatta talent scout Daniel Anderson, who would later coach Hindmarsh to the 2009 NRL grand final. '(He) came down to watch (former South Sydney prop) Scott Geddes (but) I had a good game and they offered us both a scholarship to Fairfield Pats,'' he recalls. Nathan Hindmarsh received the Jack Gibson trophy in 2012. Picture: AAP Image/Action Photographics, Robb Cox Hindmarsh had a short stint at the college, admitting 'it wasn't for me'', but later trialled for Parramatta SG Ball and made the squad. Rising through the ranks, he made his NRL debut under coach Brian Smith in 1998. A Bulldogs fan growing up, Hindmarsh was suddenly training with his heroes – Jim Dymock, Jarrod McCracken, Jason Smith and Dean Pay, who had joined the Eels during the Super League war. 'That was a massive highlight for me. My first training session, I've walked in and they're all there and they scared the shit out of me. Especially Jimmy and McCracken, they were scary blokes. I was just in awe. I just did what I was told to do and that was it.'' Hindmarsh got his first taste of finals heartbreak later that year, losing to Canterbury in one of the most infamous defeats in Parramatta history – beaten 32-20 in extra time, having led 18-2 with just over 10 minutes to go. Many fans put the loss down to mistakes made by teammate Paul Carige, but Hindmarsh doesn't agree with that view, saying: 'I reckon that's a bit harsh. Everyone made mistakes in that game. He dropped a ball and put his foot on the touch line, and all that sort of stuff, but we had enough of a lead. We blew that as a team.'' More finals torture came the next year, losing to Melbourne after leading 16-0 at halftime. Nathan Hindmarsh is tackled by the strong Newcastle defence in the 2001 NRL grand final. Picture: AAP Image/Dean Lewins But those two losses were just the entree to the main course of finals disappointment for Hindmarsh. In 2001, after a record-breaking point-scoring season, Parramatta went into the decider – the NRL's first night grand final – as red-hot favourites against Newcastle. Ambushed in the first half by the Knights, who streaked out to a 24-0 lead, it proved too difficult for the Eels to rein in, resulting in a devastating 30-24 loss. '2001 for me is the one that got away, with the side we had,'' Hindmarsh laments. 'No disrespect to Newcastle (but) we were a really good side that year, and we stuffed it, we stuffed it on game night … but that's all it takes. Newcastle just got the jump on us and we didn't have enough time to get it back.'' Of his two grand final losses, 2001 'hurts the most'', Hindmarsh admits. Not that he didn't feel the anguish of losing his second – and last – grand final in 2009. That year, a thrilling late season run – on the back of Jarryd Hayne's scintillating form – catapulted the Eels into eighth place before they swept through the semis to face the Storm in the decider. 'The things we saw Haynesy do in that era, you won't see ever again. He was a freak,'' Hindmarsh recalls. 'We talk about other freakish players at the moment, but I think he's still another level above them. When it came to individual brilliance, some of those tries he scored were just phenomenal.'' Nathan Hindmarsh looks dejected after the 2009 NRL grand final loss to the Melbourne Storm. Picture:But it ended in more grand final heartbreak for Hindy. And it was compounded the following year with revelations the Storm had cheated the salary cap in order to field their star-studded team. 'They cheated the cap, they did,'' Hindmarsh says. 'But you can pay a player a million bucks a season, you've still got to play well. 'Yeah, they got to stick together by cheating the cap, but they still had to play well on the day and they played better than us, and that's all there is to it. 'People say do you want the trophy? No, I don't want to be handed something I didn't win. It's all about that feeling when the full time siren goes and embracing those blokes who you busted your arse with all season, that's the feeling you want to have.'' The year after that loss was the only time Hindmarsh came close to leaving the Eels. 'I was pretty much looking at going to the (English) Super League. I was either going to Leeds or St Helens,'' he says. 'I was very close (to leaving). I had a few conversations with my wife, a few conversations with other people who had been over to the Super League. But we decided we were happy to stay and see out my career with the one club.'' In his final year with the Eels, Hindmarsh captained his team to the wooden spoon. 'You captain a club to a spoon, that's something that sits with you, and doesn't sit well,'' he laments. Which leads us to the current crop of Eels and their bid to avoid the spoon in 2025. 'I'm hoping they will (avoid it),'' Hindmarsh says. 'With the Origin period now, losing Mitch Moses and Lomax, two of the better players in the side ... it will be close. 'But hopefully not … we've had a few.'' As for Parramatta's premiership drought, 2026 will mark 40 years since the club last celebrated winning a competition in the golden '80s. But Hindmarsh believes new coach Jason Ryles could be the man to return premiership glory to Parra. 'He's a fresh coach, he's a new coach. He's never been in charge of an NRL side before, so give him a chance,'' he says. 'I think his credentials, who he's been under as an understudy, put him in good stead. 'But it's going to take some time. If you're an Eels fan, you'll understand that. The majority of us do. It's going to be a bit of a rebuilding process. 'I've got full faith in Rylesy that he's going to do it.'' Do you have a story for The Telegraph? Message 0481 056 618 or email tips@
News.com.au
2 hours ago
- News.com.au
What it is really like to be a WAG in Australia
For years, WAG culture has been put on a pedestal in Australia. Glamorous, polished, and always front and centre. From Rebecca Judd to Jesinta Franklin, the women behind AFL stars have been splashed across the pages of Austraia's newspapers, labelled 'glamour WAGs' and packaged into a media-driven identity that has little to do with the actual reality of life inside the AFL bubble. We don't talk enough about what it's really like to be the woman behind the athlete. The public sees the polished photos, the race day outfits, the glamour. But they don't see the long-distance parenting, the invisible mental load, or the unspoken expectation that you make yourself smaller while they chase something big. I know this firsthand. I've lived it. My husband, Lachie Henderson, spent over a decade in the AFL system, playing for Brisbane, Carlton, and Geelong. While the outside world saw the polished version of AFL life, behind the scenes, I was juggling long-distance, single motherhood, and running a business full-time – without the luxury of pressing pause. I met him while raising a child as a single mum, running my swimwear label IIXIIST, and building a life on my own terms. And while I loved him - and the life we were building - I quickly learnt that being a WAG in Australia came with a playbook. One I never really wanted to follow. Navigating the WAG world AFL culture is structured, disciplined, and deeply traditional. The same applies to the social side of it. There are unspoken expectations – who sits where at the club functions, who's in the inner circle, and how present you are within the 'group'. It's not a written rulebook, but it's there. For someone like me, who was already running a brand and raising a child, the WAG world was just another ecosystem to navigate, but never fully buy into. There's a hierarchy in every WAG circle, and you know your place in it pretty quickly. I wasn't interested in competing for a seat at the table when my focus was on my business, my child, and my life outside of football. I refused to put my life on hold. A lot of WAGs centre their lives around the AFL calendar. Training schedules, interstate travel, mid-season moves. It all revolves around the game, not the individual. Lachie and I did long-distance across Brisbane, Melbourne, and Geelong, but we always made decisions as a partnership, not just around footy. There's a strange undercurrent inside the AFL bubble. It's structured. Disciplined. And socially, it's incredibly cliquey. There's no official hierarchy - but it exists. Who you sit next to at events, how involved you are with the club, whether or not you're part of 'the group.' It felt eerily like high school, just with more fake lashes and club polos. At the time, I was doing long distance between states, juggling footy schedules, running a business, and raising a baby. I didn't have the capacity (or the interest) for the politics. I wasn't there to compete for a seat at any table. My time and energy were already fully accounted for: managing a company, keeping a child alive, and building a future I wasn't willing to shelve for someone else's career. It's not that I didn't support Lachie. I did and still do. But I've always believed in staying in your own lane. My business mattered. My goals mattered. And I wasn't going to push them aside just because I married someone with a profile. There's a reason many AFL WAGs start businesses, fashion labels, or wellness brands – it's not just about career ambition, it's about having something that belongs to you. I was building IIXIIST at the time, and later The Prestwick Place, and I was always clear that my career mattered just as much as his. The culture is not for everyone WAG culture in Australia can be welcoming and supportive, but it can also be cliquey and isolating. Some women form lifelong friendships, while others feel like outsiders in an unspoken hierarchy. The biggest misconception? Being a WAG is not a job. There's no contract, no title, and yet, there's an expectation that you play a certain role – supportive, present, polished. Some thrive in that space, while others struggle to find their own identity outside of their partner's career. When Lachie retired at the end of 2021, we were finally able to live life on our own terms. We left the AFL structure behind, moved to the Gold Coast, and co-founded The Prestwick Place together. After years of working around footy schedules, training commitments, and game-day routines, we finally had full control over our time, our business, and our future. The label never fit In Australia, the term WAG carries weight. You're either glamorous, supportive, and on-brand… or you're cold, distant, and not one of the girls. Neither version ever felt like me. I've always believed women can be both. Supportive and ambitious. Present and independent. Loving and driven. I wasn't looking to be defined by my partner's job title and I wasn't about to be reduced to mine either. There are plenty of beautiful, kind, intelligent women in that world, many of whom I admire. But the label always felt limiting. It was about who we were attached to, not who we were on our own. There's no single way to be a WAG. Some women embrace it fully, enjoying the events, the media attention, and the connection to the club. Others, like me, choose to stay in their own lane and focus on what's important to them. There's no right or wrong way to do it, but there is a choice. You don't have to dress a certain way, show up to everything, or let your partner's career dictate your own. For me, WAG culture was just one chapter of my life. It didn't define me then, and it doesn't define me now. Rewriting the narrative Today, Lachie and I are married. We live on the Gold Coast. We co-run our business and we've just had our first child together - growing our family to four. Our relationship is exactly what the term implies - a partnership. Equal parts give and take. And I say that as someone who's carried everything alone before. There's a shift happening in the way people talk about relationships, especially when both people are ambitious. It doesn't have to be either/or. It just requires being intentional. You have to make space for each other's goals. Let go of what it 'should' look like. And back yourselves to figure it out together, as you go.
