I sometimes need to make myself scarce; like when I am avoiding a fuk-up, like now. I am currently persona non grata with a work colleague - and for good reason. I was a bit of a shite. I have always been a shite, since the moment I was born. My mother took one look at me and said “Och the Noo, the Little beastie is nothing but a big shite. Nip doon to the butcher fer a poond of tripe - I’ll no’ be ettin’ that little turd’s afterbirth! I’d rather eat a coo’s guts wi’ deep fried ungyungs!” As I had already joined a bike gang and had barbed wire tattooed round my neck I didn’t care. But these days, because of the position I hold in society, I do care. A bit. So, when I fuk up, I disappear until most of the shit has been mopped off the floor. I don’t disappear into the shed, that’s full of fukken spiders, I have a time machine what I invented to disappear to another era until the shouting dies down. The time machine is a nifty invention attributable to a family genetic quirk – inventors run through our mob like Epsom salts through a lower intestine. One that springs to mind is Uncle Derek, a farmer in the Gippsland who crossed a Friesian-Holstein with a Swiss dairy maid and invented a cow that milks itself then yodels when the bucket is full. I’ll tell you more about that later but you’ll be interested in the time machine – it’s basically an orange Leyland P76 ute with few modifications of my own (see the photograph). You have to jump start it but if the plugs are in good shape you can get quite a few millennia out of it. My recent escape took me back to ancient Egypt where I assumed the guise of one of my predecessors, Mustapha Bir, who was overseeing the building of the Pyramid of Sum Chaps… pretty hot and dusty work… and chapped lips all round - even under the loincloth. What many of today’s archeologists don’t know is that the Pyramid of Sum Chaps – the one I was working on - was actually constructed with the aid of a simple tool. His name was Ghofuk Yusef and though he was thick as a Boxing Day turd he could kick a marble beach ball from one side of the Nile to the other. He could hold a Minoan Bull out the window to shit. He could also slap the side of an Egyptian slave’s head so hard the wax would shoot out of his opposite ear like a bullet and kill the slave standing next to him. So… the work progressed fairly well until the Missus arrived. “What’s this?” Claptrap demanded “If you can’t see what it is there’s little point me explaining it, is there, Oh Custodian of the King’s scorpion infested Canyon?” “Mind thy manners, Oh Master of the Dhill Pikkel Percy, or you’ll be crocodile shit before Ra bends over for to light up the morrow.” Touchy this week, I thought. Use the soft pedal. “A plague upon my tongue, Claptrap, it’s just a new pyramid Mr Ramita Pyrass ordered. “I fukken know what it is, you jackal-headed son of a dung beetle,” she snapped. "It’s a pyramid that’s facing the wrong fukken way!" Facing the wrong way! What next – upside down? But… I know when not to argue with Claptrap – and that’s when she’s got Kilrust on the barn doors. I played along… “May ra fuk a crocodile with herpes, You are right, Claptrap. Tsk, tsk… I’ll have it shifted immediately. GHOFUK YUSEF…..!” “And you gho stick your head in a constipated camel’s arse!” she hollered at me, shoving her nasty asp in my face. I didn’t bother explaining; I just got Ghofuk Yusef onto the job of aligning the pyramid with Claptrap's mother’s left tit but that was only the beginning. “Can’t you do something about the colour, it looks dull and sandy…” “It’s sandstone….” “Then cover it with marble, you vulture’s furball! And I want a north-facing window!” “There’s no windows in a pyra…. “A NORTH FACING FUKKEN WINDOW…” she ordered….”the new curtains won’t manage the southern glare….and etc etc...." And that’s why I’m back here to stand in front of the fan and let the shit hit where it may.
So...... Friday night, September 10 … there’s something on somewhere but if you don’t tell me I can’t tell anyone else. Saturday arvo September 11 there's quite a lot going on. Susie’s Blues Day is a must. 6 hours of the best of Adelaide’s Blues and Roots music bands This year will see the likes Hoy-Hoy! and Rhumboogie before a BBQ and an “off the cuff” music jam. Susie’s Blues Day is a Variety Club fundraiser for the V2 Classic Motorbike Run, Bikes Number 13 & 32, raising funds for Variety the Childrens Charity. $30 Entry, Gold coin donation for Food & Drinks For further details ring Susie 8379 5102 or email
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Saturday Night September 11 there is a real treat on offer. Honky Tonk Angels teams up with Walking the Line – Australia’s Number 1 Johnny Cash Showband to present an evening of top cabaret entertainment at the Sandbar, Henley Square. Amber Joy Poulton – now a rising star in the Australian Country music in her own right – stars as Loretta Lynn and June Carter Cash (in Walking the Line), and Rohan Powell (Acoustic Juice) unleashes his baritone balls to pay solemn tribute to the great Man in Black. It’s a fantastic Double-Bill at a very reasonable price. Doors open at 7pm, Tickets at the door: $20. Show starts at 8:30pm. Enquiries: The Sandbar, 225 Esplanade, Henley Beach, Adelaide, 5022. Ph:08 8353 4400.
Sunday September 12 get along to the Wine Underground to catch AmberJoy Poulton and The Holy Men at the Coopers 1862 Bar Wine Underground in Pirie Street, the City. First time in the Wine Underground for the girl whose country roots are a big secret in case her husband finds out. Oh, shit… I shouldn’t have said that… she already hates me with the sort of passion only a mighty country roots singing Diva can muster. Still... But... hey... See you there… Sunday at the Wine Underground. Starts around 5 pm.
Swing, Boogie and two-step with live music to suit all tastes
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Welcome to Blue Ring Records on-line gambling cash-ino and gig-guide. Everybody loves gambling and, quitle Frankish, if you don’t gamble you don’t get… I was gonna say hospitals but we don’t get them anyway. Reservoirs?? Better public transport?? Sports fac.... well, If you don’t gamble how can you expect to lose your week’s wages in 15 minutes. Now, I like the look of your modem's IP address and I don’t want to see you lose your money to some grubby hotel that won’t even give you a free beer – gamble with Blue Ring Records and you can have all the free beer you've got in your fridge. So... get yourself a free beer or a tumbler of metho and lemon juice and get ready to gamble on the Blue Ring Records on-line pokies and gig-guide.
Step 1: Now, pay attention. Here’s what a winning pile of dosh looks like (see glowing picture on the right). It could be yours! get ready to put YOUR NAME ON IT!!!
Think about all that delicious money - some of it you can spend on Wednesday evening at the Whitmore Hotel, Morphett Street the City where the Shady Blues Band holds the audience rapt in the palm of it feet.
Step 2. Get your self a bunch of money – coins or notes – and get ready to play. Shove a fistful of money in this coin slot. That one over there.........
Step 3: push the button of your choice and listen to the music.
Look at that! You’re almost a winner. Put some more money in the coin slot:
Push another button :
and listen to the music.........
While the machine is spinning let me tell you about Friday night, September 3 when you can swing and Lindy Hop till your elastic snaps with The Blues Avenue Trio at the Whitmore Hotel. It's Free to get in - yes, I said abso-fukken-lootley free to get-the-fuk in! If swing is your thing then get your arse into the Whitmore Hotel on Friday.
Also on Friday September 3 you can see Hoy-Hoy! At the Semaphore Workers Club, Semaphore.
And Nikko & Snooks are performing at the Rob Roy Hotel Fri 3rd Sep. 6-9pm
meanwhile....
FUK! Looks like you've dumped your dough. Try again. Put some more money in the coin slot:
Push a button:
and isten to the music. ..
To take your mind offa the machine read this: Saturday September 4, the Steve Brown Band will set the Bacchus Bar at Henley Square alight with its slow burning boogie blues. Sing: I dug a little boogie, I called it Mr Muck, but Mama said “Don’t pick your nose you dirty little fuk!”
What rhymes with Fuk?
Bad luck, that's what! You're not a winner, I'm sorry; you'll be going home - or staying there - with nothing. Fuk-all (as usual) That is bad luck indeed (as fukkin' usual). . Now put your wages - including the grocery money - in a post-pak and mail it to me.
This on-line gambling session - like every other fukken gambling session - has brought nothing but bad luck for you... but not for me. I’ll be taking my winnings home in this mini skip.
Ya-fukken-hoo for online gambling.
Sunday you must get started right after your confessional at church and your pledge to quit gambling and get down to the MiddleBrook Winery, Sand Rd, McLaren Vale for walking the Line – Australia’s Number One Johnny Cash Show. Band starts at 1.30.
And also on Sunday, September 5, you can have SWEET BABY JAMES & ROB EYERS at the Whitmore Hotel (2pm kick-off) all by themselves, giving out the double voodoo hoodoo. Hey BooBoo.
Dutch Treats, Cash and Swing
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Rockin’ gigs this week start with... Dutch Tilders at the Whitmore Hotel , Morphett Street, Adelaide, on Friday August 27.
Nobody told me they had gigs on Saturday August 28 so I guess everybody will be sittin’ at home watching porn on the interweb. If so… check out my boxes of tissues for sale on the hEbay. Some have hardly been used at all.
Sunday, August 29, Paul Robert Burton swiped the Cat’s Pyjamas gig at the Wine Underground, Pirie Street, the City. Paul Robert is taking time out of his busy schedule in Sydney to pinch gigs of local Adelaide bands. While here he prefers to perform with Andrew Toner (inkjet or laser printer – colour and B&W available in standard and extra capacity) and I believe that, while not being the cat’s pyjamas, they are perhaps, the bees knees. For blurb go to http://www.paulrobertburton.com/AIM/PRB_Band.html . The duo is to perform at the Wine Underground, 121 Pirie St this Sunday arvo, 29/8, from 5-8 pm
Monday, August 30, SWEET BABY JAMES & ROB EYERS will be rockin’ the Exeter on Rundle with their Double Voodoo magic.
Friday, September 3, swing like granny’s tits at a nudist colony leapfrog exhibition with THE BLUES AVENUE TRIO at the Whitmore Hotel, Morphett Street, Adelaide.
Saturday September 4, you can catch The Steve Brown band at the Bacchus Bar, Henley Square.Brownie will be there with Rhodesey, Algra-ey and Surmoney to put some smoking blues and soul to the match, to fan the smoulderin' embers of classic torch songs to white hot flame and burn ya fukkin' buns orf! I was getting a bit fed up with that Promo shit blurb. But seriously, folks,take my wife.... ah, fuk. somebody did. Try again... but seriously folks and folkesses, come along the the bacchus bar and listen to the Steve Brown Band while drinking copiously till you trip over the foldback wedges and smash yer fukkin' brains out on the base of the mike stand. Vomit off the veranda railing and piss yer duds. Why not...? You do it every other fukken' time we're there.
Sorry, everyone. My apologies for that outburst.
Now... On Sunday, September 5, SWEET BABY JAMES & ROB EYERS will be doin’ the Whitmore Hotel at 2pm by themselfs.
Fuk 'em, i say. They can do it by themselfs, if they want to. Anyway, I will be with ........
Walking the Line – AUSTRALIA’S NUMBER ONE JOHNNY CASH SHOW on Sunday September 5 and I will be trashing the room at the Middlebrook Winery with an axe. And some small electric-powered hand tools. It's on Father's day so if you have a father - or even know of one - bring him along. he'll love it.
Gig and booking details will follow.
Later – I will post those details some other day. In the meantime, you have this to go on with….
While enjoying a counter lunch my attention to the fat sausages and gravy was diverted once too often by the goings on in the galoot standing next to me chugging double rums. He was white as Tony Abbot’s Ostraya policy and shaking like 6-foot mains powered dildo. “Get the tap jockey to chuck a bit of cow juice in your glass and you’ll have a rum milkshake in half a minute,” I sez. “You’re as white as a fairy’s fib and shaking like you’ve got the Eveready bunny up yer arse!” “That’s because I’m... I’m fukken scared mate. I’m in a horror story of me own making.” “Gettin’ married, eh?” “Worse. A vagillion times worse.” I mopped up the last of the delicious onion gravy, got a new pint and said: “Spill your guts, dad, it’ll only cost you a rum chaser for me to listen.” Without a second’s delay he ponied up a platter of rum shots, inhaled one and said: “It started two years ago when I brought a baby mud crab back from Darwin....” A dark cloud came in to the pub with an icy wind behind it, blotting out the lights and laying a moist chill on the room. I shivered and peered into the gloom as he went on with his terrifying tale. “He was so small when I got him... I called him Dinky because he was so cute. I was gonna feed him up and have mud crab sandwiches for Christmas dinner so I drove him all the way down here and made a little swamp for him out where the septic tank overflows into the garden. The little fella loved it there; he thrived. He got bigger and bigger, much quicker than I thought he would. “Living on your poowater, eh? Must be powerful stuff; what do you eat?” “Same as everybody else at the nuclear storage dump cafeteria... pies, pasties, fission chips. Come the first Christmas he looked like a pretty good feed but I thought I might hold him over for Good Friday. Make a tray of sandwiches. But four months later Dinky wasn’t so fukken dinky. He was fukken huge... I went to grab him and he snipped orf me finger...” The guy held up a hand that was one finger short of a Mason’s handshake. “And he was strong, too. The next day his cracked a hole in the side of the septic tank and moved in there. And then he got bigger... and bigger. I used to lift orf the inspection plate to talk to him but over the past year he has become silent. He doesn’t burble out his crabby little responses any more, he just stares back at me. And I didn’t like the look in his eyes, neither... the stalks would slowly extend till they almost reached me and they’d give me a sort of ... hungry look. it put the fukken’ wind up me, I’m telling yer. And big?? I could hear his legs scraping both sides of the tank and I started to worry that he might be strong enough to break out. Then... last night... I was dropping off a pollie at the white house when I felt something weird tickle my arse. Then the tip of a giant crab feeler pokes up outer the bowl and waggles between me legs. I jumped up and there, staring up at me from the bottom of the bowl was....was a huge crab’s eye. It winked at me and I screamed, Mate... I screamed like a fukken sheila... and got the fuk out of there. I was here at sparrow’s fart this morning and here’s where I’ll stay, mate. I’m too scared to go back. What Am I gonna do? Dink’s gonna break out and eat me” I Hummmed and hemmed for a minute. “You still wanna eat him, though?” “Spose so... He’s pretty big, but...“ “Pretty big. Ha! I used to knock around Hindley Street in me early days and caught crabs that were so big it looked like you had a council bus running round in your duds. “Give us your address and meet me at your joint in an hour or so. Bring a coupla dozen loaves of bread and a box of butter. And a few mates... “ “ To help fight Dink?” “Nah... to help you eat all the crab sandwiches.” Piece of piss, really. It’s not often a muddie is presented to you already locked in the cooking pot. I just covered the septic tank with kindling and a tonne of mallee roots, tipped on a bottle of metho to make it go whoosh when I tossed on the lighted match and sat back to wait till it came to the boil. The bloke and his mates turned up as directed... the fire had got away from me a bit and burned up the back of his house. He was a bit snaky about the damage but I pointed out that he was about to eat Dink and not the other way round and he took himself in hand. We used a sledge hammer to crack the top of the septic tank and a jack hammer to crack Dink open. I didn’t stay for tea... I’m a bit funny about eating stuff out of other people’s septic tanks.
I’ll tell you more about that later but you’ll be interested in the time machine – it’s basically an orange Leyland P76 ute with few modifications of my own (see the photograph). You have to jump start it but if the plugs are in good shape you can get quite a few millennia out of it. 
Saturday arvo September 11 there's quite a lot going on. Susie’s Blues Day is a must. 6 hours of the best of Adelaide’s Blues and Roots music bands This year will see the likes Hoy-Hoy! and Rhumboogie before a BBQ and an “off the cuff” music jam. 
Saturday Night September 11 there is a real treat on offer. Honky Tonk Angels teams up with Walking the Line – Australia’s Number 1 Johnny Cash Showband to present an evening of top cabaret entertainment at the Sandbar, Henley Square. Amber Joy Poulton – now a rising star in the Australian Country music in her own right – stars as Loretta Lynn and June Carter Cash (in Walking the Line), and Rohan Powell (Acoustic Juice) unleashes his baritone balls to pay solemn tribute to the great Man in Black. 
Sunday September 12 get along to the Wine Underground to catch AmberJoy Poulton and The Holy Men at the Coopers 1862 Bar Wine Underground in Pirie Street, the City. First time in the Wine Underground for the girl whose country roots are a big secret in case her husband finds out. Oh, shit… I shouldn’t have said that… she already hates me with the sort of passion only a mighty country roots singing Diva can muster. Still... But... hey... See you there… Sunday at the Wine Underground. Starts around 5 pm.
Step 1: Now, pay attention. Here’s what a winning pile of dosh looks like (see glowing picture on the right). It could be yours! get ready to put YOUR NAME ON IT!!!
Step 2. Get your self a bunch of money – coins or notes – and get ready to play. 
Step 3: push the button of your choice and listen to the music. 
Look at that! You’re almost a winner. Put some more money in the coin slot: 
While the machine is spinning let me tell you about Friday night, September 3 when you can swing and Lindy Hop till your elastic snaps with The Blues Avenue Trio at the Whitmore Hotel. It's Free to get in - yes, I said abso-fukken-lootley free to get-the-fuk in! If swing is your thing then get your arse into the Whitmore Hotel on Friday. 
FUK! Looks like you've dumped your dough. Try again. Put some more money in the coin slot: 
Bad luck, that's what! You're not a winner, I'm sorry; you'll be going home - or staying there - with nothing. Fuk-all (as usual) That is bad luck indeed (as fukkin' usual). . Now put your wages - including the grocery money - in a post-pak and mail it to me.
And also on Sunday, September 5, you can have SWEET BABY JAMES & ROB EYERS at the Whitmore Hotel (2pm kick-off) all by themselves, giving out the double voodoo hoodoo. Hey BooBoo.
Rockin’ gigs this week start with... Dutch Tilders at the Whitmore Hotel , Morphett Street, Adelaide, on Friday August 27.
Sunday, August 29, Paul Robert Burton swiped the Cat’s Pyjamas gig at the Wine Underground, Pirie Street, the City. Paul Robert is taking time out of his busy schedule in Sydney to pinch gigs of local Adelaide bands. While here he prefers to perform with Andrew Toner (inkjet or laser printer – colour and B&W available in standard and extra capacity) and I believe that, while not being the cat’s pyjamas, they are perhaps, the bees knees. For blurb go to 
Saturday September 4, you can catch The Steve Brown band at the Bacchus Bar, Henley Square.Brownie will be there with Rhodesey, Algra-ey and Surmoney to put some smoking blues and soul to the match, to fan the smoulderin' embers of classic torch songs to white hot flame and burn ya fukkin' buns orf! I was getting a bit fed up with that Promo shit blurb. But seriously, folks,take my wife.... ah, fuk. somebody did. Try again... but seriously folks and folkesses, come along the the bacchus bar and listen to the Steve Brown Band while drinking copiously till you trip over the foldback wedges and smash yer fukkin' brains out on the base of the mike stand. Vomit off the veranda railing and piss yer duds. Why not...? You do it every other fukken' time we're there.