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Have some beer and Skiffle with your Sunday Afternoon in Goolwa Print E-mail
Wednesday, 13 May 2015

Sorry I forgot about doing this stuff. Now I am a little out of practice.


Sample ImageSunday May 17 a Cat’s Pyjamas Duo will treat the patrons of the Goolwa Aquatic Club to An Afternoon of Skiffle and Beer. Kicks off around 1-ish or later, depending on how long it takes to tune my freakin’ guitar. 6 strings harder than four!

 

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageFriday May 22 and, according to my diary, we have the Steve Brown Band at the Semaphore Workers’ Club, Semaphore. Brownie and the band start smokin’ around 9 pm. The Semaphore Workers’ Club is The Home of Roots and Blues in South Australia.

 

 

 

Sample ImageOther stuff: pan!c is gearing up for a Cabaret Fringe Festival Season with Don’t pan!c – it’s only a Geek Pop Quiz Night… more later on that.

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageThe Krusty Cowboy Klub is also saddling up for a show on June 12 at the Marion Cultural Centre. Krusty Cowboy Klub - Cultural Centre…. Someone’s in for a surprise.

 

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageAmber Joy Poulton and the Holy Men along with Sandra Humphries will be featuring in Country Gold running at Her Majesty’s Theatre on August 15. Big posh show, that one.

 

 

 

 

Sheeluck fukken Holmes and the wizard


“Watson,” shouted Holmes... “It's about time you got here, I called you two whole minutes ago!”
“Yes, I know Holmes, only I was giving the missus a seeing to at the time and she was right annoyed at my pulling out and skedaddling over here.”
“I'm sure she'll manage without you Watson; women are resourceful in that way.”
“Yes, well we keep a battery operated boy under the pillow for such emergencies. Or she will call on the stable boy; he’s hung like a pornstar donkey. Speaking of emergencies, what's up your arse this time, old man?”
“Watson, a bunch of antipodean quarter-wits has mislaid something vitally important the the future of their country...”
“The formula for beer?”
“More serious than that, Watson... they are about to make a financial plan announcement for their country and they have mislaid a budget crisis!”
“By the lice-infested pubic hair of good Queen Bess, Holmes, how did they manage to do something as stupid as that??”
“You will discover that in a few short minutes for we are going to meet a brace of these boofheads now.”
In a posh Victorian mansion Holmes and Watson meet the Mad Abbott and Fat Joe Hockem.
“Tell, me boys,” said Holmes to the playful youngsters who were alternately air-tongue kissing and punching each other... “This budget crises, when did you last have it?”
“I dunno. I think, it was just before the rest of our tory toff chums said they were going to take their ball and go home. Then it disappeared and we never saw it again.”
“Have you looked under the bed?”
“Yes, yes, yessitty yes!!!”
“Have you looked on top of the wardrobe?”
“Wouldn’t be up there, can’t reach. It’s too tall.”
“What about between the cushions on the sofa?”
The two birdbrains looked at each other: “Never thought of that; look now, Fatso; look now!”
Cushions flew across the room.
“Oh! Oh… oh…Look what I found!!!”
“What is it?”
“The remote…”
“Whee... let’s play!!!”
“Boys,” shouted Holmes, sternly, “That isn’t going to find your budget crisis, you need to keep looking.”
“Who cares about a silly budget crisis. You keep looking for it; we want to play.”
“Watson, I think we should look in the biscuit tin.”
“I want chocolate biscuits if you're going there,” shouted Fat Jo.
“Me too, Timmy Tams, you oiks,” whined Mad Abbott. “Oh look! It’s the ABC news..... Watch this, Fatso…”
“Watson,” murmured Holmes. “Let us leave these juveniles to their play.”
“Holmes,” called Watson as he watched the two numpties…” …. they are doing wees on the faces of those people on moving pictures of the Australian Broadcasting Commission...”
“Yes.  Well, to the kitchen, anyway, Watson. Ah, there's the biscuit tin; pop it open old man. Hello!! What's this?”
Foof!
Suddenly, a hooded apparition appeared in the kitchen.
“These are not the budget crises you are looking for,” it intoned.
“I can see that,” said Holmes. “They are the untouched pension funds and travel perks for defrocked politicians....”
“These are not the budget crises you are looking for...” groaned the vision.
“Yes; yes... you said that already…”
“I say, Holmes,” whispered Watson, peering hard at the ghastly apparition... “look at his face.... it's all warped, wrinkly and twisted... like a ...well a welder’s glove.”
“Look more closely, Watson; you see that, with its gnarliness, its wrinkles, pockmarks and tufts of badly shaved grey hair and its worn and battered appearance, it bears a far closer resemblance to Madonna’s twat.”
“That’s right, clever dick,” stated the apparition. “They do call me twat-face, but in reality I am Rupert the Magical Wizard!”
“You mean...”
“Yes, it is I who made the budget crises appear and disappear.”
“But why...??”
“Why else but for them in there!” said the vision as it nodded towards the pair of galoots in the living room.
As they all looked they could see Little Fat Joe Hockem standing on Mad Abbot's back trying to do a poo on the ABC people on the moving picture screen.
“Yes,”  sighed Rupert the Wizard, “They couldn’t fart in their undercrackers if I didn’t do it for them. Anyway, I have called their mummies who will be here soon to take them to bully practice. And I must go as well. I have left a little something for youse. toodle-oo…”
Foof!
“Holmes, he's gone!”
“Yes, Watson, and look on the table; he's left us a gift.”
For surely, there on the table were some sheets of newspaper on which sat two strange objects.
“Holmes... is that poo on a stick? Two poo-sticks???”
“Yes Watson, but that’s not the important part of the gift. What else do you see?”
“Well; there's only that shit on the newspaper...”
“Yes Watson, but look closely and you will see it's a Rupert the Wizard-corp newspaper...”
"So...?"
“So this is what we do,” said Holmes as he wrapped the poopsicles in the newspaper and tossed the bundle into the dunny and flushed the cistern. “That’s what it’s good for!”
“I say, Holmes…”
“Yes, Watson, and I say we have done all we can to find the mysterious disappearing  budget crisis, now hand me that cocaine hammer in my dilly-bag, Watson. I’m going to dong myself insensible!”

 

 
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