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Red Hot is red hot! Print E-mail
Friday, 15 November 2013

Sample ImageRed Hot Blues Band with Bobby Blue on the harps will be grooving away at the Old Bush Inn down Willunga way this Saturday November 16. We tried to get Peter Green, sent a text to Jack White, poked Pink and sent an email to David Grey but in the end Bobby Blue came through. And he lives just down the road. 8:30 kick off at the Old Bush Inn, Willunga. For more info go here: http://www.oldbushinn.com/up-coming-events.html



Go here: http://wheatsheafhotel.com.au/   for gigs at the Wheatie. The Wheatie has adopted a new logo:  Sample Image .   The old one:   Sample Imagemust have been too complicated for today’s modern metro to look at. There was a fair bit to take in - some words and a drawing of a glass of beer...


Sample ImageGigs at the Gov go here: http://www.thegov.com.au/


Keep a weather eye out for this: Kinky Friedman "Bi-Polar Tour" - With Special Guests - Tuesday 26 November

Kinky Friedman (pic below left)  returns to Australia for his Bi-Polar World Tour to celebrate the release of his new Live From Woodstock album. A mix of the hits, his comedy and spoken word pieces, Bi-Polar Live From Woodstock also features The Ballad of Kevin Barry, a previously unrecorded (live or studio) track.

 Sample Image    Kinky is the author of a bunch of "detective" novels that provide a resaonably satisfactory use of spare time while helping to round out the character of Mr  Friedman. See if you can dig up one or two to read while the show is on.





 TUNA FISH BEWARE  -- The RSample Imageed Hot Blues Band hits Port Lincoln. Yet another arse-busting, bum-numbing drive will take the red Hot Blues Band to Port Lincoln on Saturday November 23. If You're a Lincolnite, stick this in yer diary.







Looking Ahead:

Sample ImageAmber joy Poulton and the Holy Men and cranking up a gig for the Railroad Country Music Club on December 29. Watch this space for more info. Better still… watch Amber Joy’s Face…book. Face. Thingy. Page.





Sample ImageI have been alerted to production of a new cabaret/musical comedy show getting into rehearsals for the next Adelaide Fringe. Look for Gimme Cash, a Southern Revival of sin and  greed.








Old Soldiers

Great grandad Ernest is pretty ancient; he was a POW in WWII and I believe he may have started WWI or at least had something to do with annoying somebody into instigating the  ruction so he was an appropriate guest at a Remembrance Day Dinner. He is pretty crocked out now though he has fortunately hung onto his marbles well enough to be writing a book titled Traitors We Have Elected. During part of his research he was struck by the coincidence that both Abbot’s initials and his actions have put him in the vanguard of corporate coksukkers that sell us down the toilet for a few hearty slaps on the back and no doubt a massive boost to their family trust funds.   Anyway, being about 138 and incontinent Great Grandad Ernie can't drive anymore so I was his taxi driver and chaperone for the event.

When those old diggers get together they have some pretty harrowing tales to tell about the misery and pain dealt out to soldiers by their enemy captors. There was a heart-rending oral procession of brutality and misdeeds and too many examples of the grossest acts of inhumanity but our hosts tolerated the gruesome reminiscences in the spirit of the day, and to humour the old diggers.  As we went into the dining room the blather baton was passed to great grandad Ernest who was kicking the stable door to have his say.

“About time the food came out,” he grumbled. “Me stummick thinks me throat’s been cut. Eh… have you heard that one before, young Shitferbraynes? You probably woulnd’t’ve, living a sheltered life an’ all. And just as well it’s tucker time, too; I was getting as hungry as I was when I was a prisoner of them Japs in the war and we was made to build the Burma rapid transport interchange.

“You let me tell yer, them fukkn bloody nip bastards starved us.... To death!”

“Ernie,” I sez on the q.t..... “Language, old bean; women and children present, and all that; what-ho?”

“Huh??? ... Oh, orright. As I was sayin’, them fukkn bloody Japanese bastards starved us to death and they expected us to build their fukkn railroad… while we was skinny as a politicians morals!

“Rice! That’s all they fed us!  Working as navvies in all that heat and humility and all they fukkn fed us was fukkn rice. And sometimes … if we was lucky…  they’d chuck us bit if raw fish to go with it. When the blokes started dropping dead like dyin’ flies and getting skin ulcers and stuff we started to mix in a bit of dried seaweed what we collected off the rocks in the bay to try to get some vitamins; that and whatever weeds we thought might be edible. It was fukkn cruel. And I uster say ‘fuk ‘em’, the miserable fukkn bastards.

“Anyway, that’s all over now. So .... what’s for dinner, young Shitferbraynes?”

“Er… sushi.”

“Sounds inneresting; what is it?”


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