The Bachelor's Laura Byrne and Matty 'J' Johnson make brutal dig at their kids as they reveal what they will miss most about Bali
The Life Uncut podcast host, 39, and her radio star husband, 37, shared a clip on Instagram on Monday revealing that the 'hardest' part about returning home to Australia was saying goodbye to their children's nanny.
'The hardest part about leaving Bali,' the video's caption read.
In the clip, Laura and Matty could be seen waving goodbye to the local nanny, pretending to cry and console each other as she left their villa.
Matty then could be seen dramatically putting his hand on the glass as he 'broke down' over her departure.
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The Life Uncut podcast host and her radio star husband shared a clip on Instagram on Monday revealing that saying goodbye to their children's nanny was the 'hardest' part about returning home
'Saying goodbye to the nanny,' he wrote with a broken heart emoji.
The hilarious Instagram post was accompanied by the James Blunt song Goodbye My Lover.
Matty and Laura announced their engagement while on holiday in Fiji in 2018.
The couple tied the knot on the South Coast in 2022.
They welcomed Marlie-Mae in 2019, followed by Lola in February, 2021.
The couple, who met on season 5 of The Bachelor Australia, have been in Indonesia to celebrate the nuptials of Laura's podcast co-host Brittany Hockley and Swiss footballer beau Ben Siegrist.
The wedding took place at Pandawa Cliff Estate which promises a 'dramatic and romantic clifftop setting overlooking the Indian Ocean', and stunning views of Bali's Bukit Peninsula.
Brittany was ever the blushing bride on her big day, walking down the aisle in a strapless dress by Steven Khalil which featured a lace corset with dramatic long train.
The couple gave followers a glimpse into the nuptials, sharing a duo of loved-up snaps from the big day to Instagram.
One showed Ben romantically embracing his new bride as he leaned in for a newlywed kiss.
The second showed the happy couple beaming as they held hands and hugged each other close.
'From the very first day, it was you,' Brittany captioned the images.
'Across any ocean, it is you. For the rest of our lives, it will always be you. Mr and Mrs Siegrist 4.6.2025,' she added, augmenting the sentiment with love heart emojis.
The post was met with an outpouring of congratulations from friends, fans and followers.
The Life Uncut podcast announced Brittany's engagement to Ben, 33, last year.
The duo met in November 2022 on the celebrity dating app Raya.
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Daily Mail
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Horrifying moment British woman suffers severe burns after flaming skipping rope 'barbecued her neck' in freak accident during Thai full-moon party
This is the horrifying moment a woman was left with severe burns after a flaming skipping rope got wrapped around her neck at a full moon party. Karen Liseth, 22, went on a three-month trip to Thailand followed by Bali - and attended a full moon party at a beach on the second week of the trip. After a few drinks, she decided to 'do something crazy' - and asked her partner, Abed, now 29, to film her skipping with a flaming jump rope. Everything was going to plan - until she tried to get back out of the rope and it wrapped around her neck. Onlookers gasped in shock as the rope 'barbecued her neck' - leaving her with a sore and blackened neck. The business developer, from Bromley, Greater London, said she 'counts her blessings' the injury wasn't worse - like if it had hit her eyes or set her hair on fire. Karen said: 'I'd had a few drinks at the party and thought: "Why not do something crazy?" 'But then I completely miscalculated how to leave, and ran the other way - with the rope wrapping around my neck. 'I think I just felt adrenaline in the moment and laughed it off. 'I even had a few shots to help with the pain after!' Karen and her partner were visiting the Thai island of Ko Pha Ngan when they attended the party. Karen decided to be daring and skip with the rope - and asked Abed to film it. But things didn't go to plan - culminating in Karen being burned by the rope after trying to duck out of it. She said: 'I was in shock with the adrenaline at the time. 'After, my partner sat me down to check I was okay - that was when I realised it was painful and I started to cry.' The couple were stuck on the island until the morning - and Karen, then 18, said she woke up in pain. The business developer, from Bromley, Greater London , said she 'counts her blessings' the injury wasn't worse - like if it had hit her eyes or set her hair on fire But due to how remote the area was, they crossed their fingers it would heal by itself and continued their trip. Karen said: 'I woke up and I couldn't really move my neck. 'I called my mum and told her what happened - she was like: "What the f**k, Karen?" She was so concerned. 'It was a pain to shower and even to have my hair sat on my neck - I had to have my hair up for a few days because of the stinging. 'But I did carry on going in the sea and showering. 'It scabbed over, then the scabs came off a few times - after about two weeks it had healed.' Now fully healed, it has hardly even scarred - and there is virtually no evidence of the injury. Karen said she struggled to watch the video in the weeks after the injury in June 2022, but now can watch it with ease. She added: 'It was a holiday horror, but it didn't ruin the holiday. 'That video describes my crazy personality really - it's a cool story to tell. 'This is a perfect example of what not to do when you've had a few drinks - I don't drink like that any more!
The Guardian
an hour ago
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My husband always dreamed of distant oceans. With a volunteer crew, I gave him a sailor's farewell
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Adorning the lid is the only epitaph that seemed to fit: 'Cosmos Mariner, Destination Unknown'. It's resting in a basket of yellow rose petals. On our first trip out of Mooloolaba harbour, John was jubilant. He was born a restless soul, saltwater in his veins and distant oceans in his dreams. As a child in Amsterdam in the 1940s, his beloved 'toys' were the tools he found in his grandfather's ship's carpenter sea chest. He ran away to sea as a teenager in the 1950s, signing on to the merchant navy for a string of passages across the North Sea. He migrated to Australia in the early 1960s and was among the first to surf the now-famous Bells beach waves in Victoria. In Queensland in the early 1970s, he taught himself to sail in a little Arafura Cadet, winning the novice championship in his first year at Keppel Bay Sailing Club. Taurus, an Arrow catamaran, was the first of his home-built craft. John's dreams soon outgrew the bay; the nearby islands beckoned. 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‘I couldn't have done this in my 20s': Some of us dread ageing. For these stage actors, it makes them freer than ever
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Murphet agrees, adding that Beckett's 'understanding of age and of maturity, the wealth of experience laid on top of you, is really deep. I sense it would be very difficult for a young person to do this'. As a culture we tend to talk about ageing as a series of losses, a whittling away of vigour and ability, but talking to actors in the latter part of their career reveals something more complex and moving. Apart from obvious issues with mobility and strength – Meldrum jokingly mentions 'walking around and going up and down stairs' as areas of difficulty – these performers feel freer and more focused than ever. 'I feel I'm performing the best I've ever performed,' Meldrum says. 'As far as the idea of age slowing you down, it's been a positive for me because I've always been a bit speedy.' Working with young actors as a lecturer at VCA and now at the National Theatre, he notes that the biggest challenge 'is getting them to be still, not to constantly think ahead. It's huge. Maybe it takes a lifetime?' Evelyn Krape has experienced something of a career renaissance lately, wowing audiences in Kadimah Yiddish Theatre's production of Yentl, playing an ancient mischievous spirit – an irrepressible agent of chaos scampering up ladders and jumping on beds. She also recently finished a run in Tom Gleisner and Katie Weston's musical Bloom, carrying the emotional stakes of the show as a vibrant, colourful woman coming to the end of her life in a soulless nursing home. The latter is a rare naturalistic, age-appropriate role for 76-year-old Krape, who has specialised in a more freewheeling and vaudevillian performance style, notably in the plays of her late husband Jack Hibberd. 'I've never really played my age. In Dimboola I played a nine-year-old girl. At 21, I played Granny Hills in the Hills Family Show, where I had thick knitting yarn sewn in between two stockings to give me varicose veins.' At 61, actor and cabaret legend Paul Capsis is younger than Krape and Meldrum, but after the recent death of his mother he's found himself thinking about second acts, and what his might look like. 'If anything, I'm planning on being crazier and more debauched,' he jokes over the phone from Lisbon, where he's having a break before starting rehearsals for STC's upcoming production of The Shiralee. 'Because I don't feel any different, you know? I still think I'm 35 – and then my body goes 'Oh hell no, bitch!'' Capsis doesn't necessarily place restrictions on himself as a performer these days, but he does want more agency over certain conditions. 'I've turned down gigs because they were asking me to sing in that countertenor range, and I just don't want to do that to my voice any more. I'm also much more interested in a director's process. I want to know as much as I can before going in.' Sign up to Saved for Later Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips after newsletter promotion While fear – of forgetting lines or blocking, or folding under the pressures of a long run – can increase with age, so too does confidence in one's skills. 'I feel more certain about myself as a performer,' Krape says. 'I'm not afraid to really go for things and if they work, they work. If they don't, you try something else.' All the actors Guardian spoke with mentioned wanting more time in the rehearsal room. Most commercial theatre productions have a three-week rehearsal period, 'which is not enough,' says Capsis. 'Not nearly enough.' 'A gift for an actor is a second or third season,' says Krape. 'Because you can't help but scratch the surface the first time. If you don't get that time to really play, things are more token and superficial.' Meldrum and Murphet extended their rehearsal process over an entire year. It's a method drawn from famed European theatre companies such as Berlin's Schaubühne or Peter Brook's Bouffes du Nord, where rehearsal periods are ongoing and open-ended. 'There was no time frame [for Still],' says Meldrum. 'We just worked until it was ready.' Of course, financial constraints mean this type of deep exploration is rare. Most actors in Australia, even at the pointy ends of their careers, work hand to mouth and can't afford to luxuriate over roles. Retirement seems almost unthinkable. 'There's still so much I want to do. I hope not to have to retire,' says Krape. Meldrum is blunter: 'I can't afford to retire.' Why even countenance the idea when the work is so rewarding and the contributions these actors make so vitalising for an industry often transfixed by youth? Murphet says the work 'keeps me alive, it keeps me energised. And if I wasn't doing it, then I would slip into senility. So I can't say that there's anything about it that makes me feel old, because there isn't.'
