I'll bet you're all wishing I'd stayed in Afghanistan or somewhere equally unpleasaant. But, it takes more than a mortar bomb up the ringpiece to stop Blue Ring Records!

This week, exploding into action at the Semaphore Workers Club, Double fukken Wammy! Yes, this Friday nite, December the whatever, Double Wammy will play their final concert for this year; this fabulous 12-month known as two oh one one. It will be legendary, myths will be woven around it. Moths will weave around eco-friendly carbon candles before crashing and burning and going to hell in tiny little hand-baskets. Arrive for a 9 pm kick off and don't miss out on award-winning keyboardist Tristan Andrews ordering a Coopers Pale, please, from the friendly Semaphore Workers Club bar staff. They will still be talking about it next year. maybe.

Moving on at the pace of a sniper rifle bullet in a K-mart Christmas queue... Saturday Night December the whatever plus one (I couldn't be bothered looking up the calendar, a bit fed up at the moment...) Saturday night... done that bit.... pan!c at the Daniel O'Connell Hotel, North Adelaide. Fresh from storming the walls of the Norwood Hotel for two - YES... TWO!... consecutive weeks, pan!c has gloriously returned to the Daniel O'Connell for one consecutive week. Should be more fun than a face full of acne and two mirrors!

What else....

Monday, Sweet Baby James and Rob Eyers at the Exeter on Rundle and....

Next Thursday, December 22, Sweet Baby James and Rob Eyers at the Gilbert Street Hotel.

Hoy Hoy Fans....Friday December 16^th, At The Dockside Tavern, The Don’t Tell Franks.

Bluescasters at the Whitmore Hotel (City) Friday December 16.

Looking Ahead:   

 If you need your head exploded at the Fringe – go to the Light Hotel (141 Currie Street)  on Saturday February 25 for :  HOLLYWOOD GUN CLUB  - 'The 80's ROCKED' - See, hear and experience an arena style concert - in a pub. Add a hard rockin' horn section to spice up Aerosmith, Alice Cooper & Extreme and you'll be in Hair Metal Heaven! This show is high octane, exciting and unapologetic! Book now thru Fringetix.

 Big Roots:  The Gov loves Roots music and January 13, we will be treated to a little bit of Roots-heaven.

Three of Adelaide best roots and blues acts, The Yearlings, The Huckleberry Swedes and The Streamliners will unite, for the first time, in a rare triple-bill.

Don't forget:  Elvis Returns to the Gov on Friday January 6 when the Fat Elvises and Chad Cheese Romereo rock and roll for Elvis' Big Fat Birthday potty. Book now! go here: http://www.thegov.com.au/gig-guide.html , and here: http://admin.moshtix.com.au/event.aspx?id=52357&caller=CAL&noadd=true&skin=

The Tax Collectors

The December meeting of the Giacomo Club was well under way, dinner and port consumed and wine bottles uncorked when one of the newer members died violently while phoning for a taxi. The conversation that ensued went thus:

“Somebody do something…”

“I have… I’ve shat my daks.”

“No, call a doctor!”

“It’s too late for that; he’s croaked! Better call the cops.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he’s been poisoned…”

“Poisoned!  Then that means…”

“Yep. He’s been murdered. Call the cops!”

“Don’t bother with the cops; waste of time. You’ll need a detective. I know a good one: Taggart McRebus. He’ll bite the nuts off this.”

“No… we need to call the cops!”

“What makes you think the cops will be interested? They are too busy collecting taxes for gratuitous government revenue off any and every motorist from such heinous crimes as a dirty towball to picking your nose and flicking the boogie out the window. A murder is beyond a copper in skills and concern. They are only interested in traffic-related revenue. Get a detective.”

“Rubbish.  I’m calling the cops!”

Numbers are tapped on a key pad, more numbers are tapped, selections are made, thirty five minutes later, a human voice answers the phone call.

“Sergeant Haffwhitt here; whaddya want, can’t you see I’m fukken busy? I’m up to me plums in Constable Margaret out at the secret speed camera location and you’re pissing me off...”

“There’s been a murder….”

“Call a detective!”

“But you’re the police… you’re supposed to do something?"

“Ahhh, fer fuk's sake; who is it then?"

“I’m not sure… he’s a new club member and he’s fallen face down, covering up his name-tag. Hang on… I can see his wallet. Here… the name on his driver’s licence is Avery Muesli…. Excuse me… there’s someone at the door.”

“Yes, can I help … oh! It’s a policeman….”

“Yes. It’s me, Haffwhitt. You were just talking to me weren’t you? Yeah, Thought so. This here's Constable Margaret and Constable Softshite.  Now, where’s the motorist you were talking about?”

“Well… he’s not a motorist… although I suppose he is, with a driver’s licence and all... but he’s dead. He’s over there…”

“Right. What’s the story then? And don’t leave out anything.”

"Well, we’d finished our dinner and port and were tasting some wine when Mr Muesli, the chap who died, said he wasn’t feeling too good. Then he started to phone for a taxi but his body went rigid, he began foaming at the mouth, then he went into violent spasms, fell on Muriel next to him and crashed face down on the floor near the kitchen door. We decided…

“You can pull yer head in now; I’ll decide what’s to be decided. Right, Constable Margaret, get out the book. First, he’s blocking a thoroughfare – small bikkies but a good start. Now… I can’t see his number plate…”

“Excuse me; his name tag is pinned to his jacket underneath him….”

“Can you see it?”

“No.”

“Neither can I. That’s a nice one, too... obscured plate; about 600 bucks or more if I’m not mistaken. And he’s missing a shoe…”

“He kicked it off when he went into spasms…”

“Not safe operating with one shoe missing. Defect notice, Constable Margaret. I notice he’s got a hole in his sock, too. Another defect.  Crashed into the adjacent person…  Undue Care and Attention – and while using a mobile phone – that’s a fukken ripper, more than a grand and a half – and he’s been drinking... What a fukken gift - DUI as well; this is gonna mint us thousands and thousands…. “

“But, what about….”

“Yeah, What about this mess on the floor, eh?”

“Well, it seems that his bowels and bladder loosened when he died, it’s very common, natrual…”

“And it’s in-fukken-decent. Urinating in a public place and he’ll wear the cleaning costs too. Right Constable Margaret, write them up and slap them on the bastard. And I have to warn you, sir, that the fines must be expedited within 21 days any failure to do so up to an including that date will see such fines incur late penalties that will scare the fukken teeth out of your fukken face.”

“But… he’s been murdered! This is a crime scene…!”

“What’s that got to do with the cops, eh? Do you have any idea what it costs to look for clues let alone track down a criminal? We don’t do that stuff anymore. We make money, not spend it!  Wake up and smell the dogshit, Pal. Then,  get yerself  a fukken detective to solve yer crime! Get Sherluck fukken Holmes or somebody who cares a fukken fig! Constable Margaret and Softshite… Both of yez.  This mob has been on the piss so I want yez to set up a breatho a hundred yards up and down the street.  Don’t miss one of them. And if the owner of the joint doesn’t come out and get breathoed then book him for evasion.  See yez!”

In the silence that followed a voice said: “Told ya so!”