You'd better Panic - it's new year's eve!
Wednesday, 26 December 2012

And so that was Christmas….

Sample ImageAnd next it is new Year… and the NYE party to which this is the invitation… no RSVP required; just turn up on the night at The Daniel O’Connell Hotel, North Adelaide to spend the last evening of 2012 with pan!c, the band, as they run through a catalogue of some of the best geek songs and one-hit-wonders ever!









Sample ImageBeyond December and  into 2013… watch out for: The Steve Brown Band at the Semaphore Workers Club. Wish I could remember when we’re on but… I Forget!!!






Sample ImageHuge congratulations to Amber Joy Poulton being nominated in the Top 5 Female Vocalist for Tamworth 2012. Here’s the statement from Amber Joy’s Facebook page: So happy & excited to be amongst some amazing female singers in The Peoples Choice Awards for Best Female Vocalist 2013. It’s a first timer for me & i feel happy, honoured, excited but mostly grateful for the public support and country music fans everywhere. THANK YOU for helping me start 2013 with a smile.




February at the Festival Centre  --  Shooey: John Schumann & The Vagabond Crew


Sample ImageDefiant, funny, passionate and always Australian, if you liked Redgum, you'll love the Vagabond Crew.   Packed venues and standing ovations demonstrate how, in a very short time, John Schumann & the Vagabond Crew have earned for themselves a stellar reputation on the festival circuit as an inspirational, intelligent and defiantly Australian concert act.

Re-united with his old mate Hugh McDonald from Redgum, this is the closest thing to a Redgum reunion fans will see.  The Vagabond Crew repertoire includes songs from the albums Lawson and Behind the Lines and a swag of Redgum hits including I was only 19, I've Been to Bali, The Long Run, and Diamantina Drover

Venue :  Space Theatre

When :  8 Feb 2013

Times : 6.30pm

Tickets through Book Online 131 246


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 At the Prospect Town Hall, Prospect Road.


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Guthries: Friday February 8 – Remembering the Legends.

Three exciting entertainers bring you their own unique styles of Music & fun.

The show features South Australia's own Nathan Bruhn, our very own "Rising Star of the Future";  Kinta “The Southern Songbird ”, who  is well known for her fine performances and bubbly personality, and the internationally acclaimed Craig "Mr Versatile" Giles.  Craig (pic left) is both a Nationally & Internationally acclaimed multi-award winning recording artist with a string of successful singles & albums to his credit. Craig tours extensively, including his annual “Music Tour of America” each October.

Book/buy tickets:







Sample ImageSaturday, 09 February:  Ronnie Taheny - A Kind of Homecoming ....  Supported by Georgia Germein Sisters

After 18 years of globe-trotting, Ronnie Taheny returns to take a short nap and set up more permanently in Adelaide. “I just got tired of the Teutonic high forehead and intelligent blue eyes.” she quips. Ronnie will deliver a couple of new tracks plus a range of satire-driven gems from that period in one cracking set. Multi-instrumentalist, Jarrad Payne will contribute his 5-star talent and taste to Taheny’s songs before the night is over.



 Sample ImageNYE at the Wheatie with PRAWNHEAD AND CAPITOL SWING

Gigs at the Wheatie:





Sample ImageThe Whitty: There's always something happening at the the Whitmore Hotel,  Morphett Street, the City.





Plan a lo-o-o-ong way ahead...........   

Sample ImageCruisin Country #3 Departs Sydney 12th October 2013

Go here:

 And, for detailed information call 1300 247 371.




Love drumming and generally making a noise???? Like to go to Africa????  Now you can do both.

Sample ImageJoin master drummer Bortier Okoe for a once-in-a-life-time Ghanaian experience. Open your heart and immerse yourself in rich and vibrant culture on a four-week intensive cultural tour. You will live in the town of Nungua amongst the community, learn the traditional rhythms, songs and dances and develop your skills under the guidance of Bortier and local drum and dance masters.





The Hobbit

Or: The road goes ever on and on and on and on….

Or:  There and never come back again

In a hole in Cowandilla lived a hobbit. An unremarkable creature if you overlooked the solid, tattooed limbs, the stocky, hairy body, head, arms, legs and feet, which were singular in that the only part which was not covered in hair were the soles which were clad in Taiwanese-made rubber thongs. On this particular day when we peer into the den of our little fellow, he is busy working on some electrical wiring around the hovel, chucking empty stubbies out the window as they became dead marines. A knock sounded at his steel-lined door. The hobbit peered into his cctv screen and mumbled, “Aahh, fuk!” He pressed the door-release button  and Gangrene the Grand Vizard of the local Whiterace Chapter edged his way in.

“Ah...Dildo Badass. I’m glad to have caught you at home,” said Gangrene, stroking his grizzled beard.

“I’m not. Take off that stupid white dunce’s hat and spill your guts quick, fuzzface, I’m getting ready to take a holiday.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a coincidence because I too am about to partake in a holiday but needs be that I must make it a working sojourn.”

“Handkerchiefs are in the dresser if you want to cry. So… what’s your story?”

“Well… I have with me some – er…. travelling companions;   a troupe of Siberian Dwarves who need to get to Mt Ting to pick up a ... er... treasure.”

“Mt Ting?”

“Iron Knob. That’s where the treasure is that these lads are after.”

“What is this ‘treasure’, you po-faced scam-artist?”

“Umm, ten kilos of methamphetamine; there’s a lab out at the Knob that’s cooking it up for them.”

“Well, if it’s in the same direction I’m headed, why not? I could use a lift and I’m packed to go.”

With that Dildo heaved a chunky camouflage rucksack over his shoulder...

Hmm,” thought Gangrene, eyeballing the bulky knapsack. “… Methinks there may be more to this hobbit than meets the eye. Er….. What’s in the bag, Dildo?” he asked the nuggetty lad. “It looks pretty chockers!”

“It’s full of arseholes, shitface, but there’s always room for one more so why don’t you get into it?”

“Ha,  ha. Your dry hobbit wit could raise a smile on the statue of Colonel Electric Light. Enough of the shit-shooting, let’s split the scene.”

“I need to turn on the alarm first. Right...that’s that; now where’s these fukken midgets?”

“In the Statesman...they all fit on the back seat.”

“Nice wheels, Gangrene; where’d you pick ‘em up?”

“Burnside Village Shopping Centre carpark,” he said, jumping into the driver’s seat. “Hey… boys! Meet Dildo Badass; Dildo ...the Boys. I won’t tell you their names, they will mean nothing to you.”


“Because they’re Siberian names and I can’t even pronounce the fukken things let alone know what they mean. Right, hide that bong, ya little jerks, first stop: the Port of Pirities.”

“I’m not keen on having that bunch of throat cutters sitting' behind me and stoned, Gagrene.”

“Don’t fret, I laced the bong weed with opium. They will be fukked out of their brains till we get to the Port of Pirities.”

Two hours later the Statesman was creeping along the streets of the Port of Pirities, cruising past its strange inhabitants.

“Holy douchebags, Gangrene. Take a gander at these freaks! They look like zombies!”

“Yes, Didlo, this is the dark city of the Leadsmelters. See that greyness in the sky? Well, up here the air is literally shimmering with brain-deadening lead. These people are pretty  nut-fukked.”

Dildo stuck his hand out of the car and scooped a palmful of the dusty grey substance.

“You call that lead in the air? I’ll show these horror story fukken freaks lead in the air!” And with that dildo whipped two Uzis out of his rucksack and emptied 18 yards of dumdum lead into the shopping mall, scattering arms, legs and heads.

“That’s ‘lead in the air',” quipped Dildo as he stowed the still-smoking weapons. “... a bit of ‘Nam-type pollution for the brain-dead. Now, let’s beat it before the heat arrives.”

Hmmm...” thought Gangrene as he burned rubber up the main street. “I really do believe there’s more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Next stop was the Port of Augustus. On the way something wet and sticky hit Dildo in the back of the neck.

“What the fuk?” he shouted. “Jeezus wept; it’s a nose. Those little runts in the back seat have woken up and had a knife fight. Gangrene, stop the fukken car and turf them out!” shouted Dildo, flinging the dripping proboscis out the window.

“Can’t do that, man. I took a sack of gold from the little rats to get them to Iron Knob. Scout’s honour and all that; gotta go through with it.”

“Well, let me sort them out,” snapped Dildo as he repacked the dwarves’ bong with stuff from his rucksack.

“What’s that?” asked Gangrene. “Ratsak?”

“Nah; horse tranquillisers. They won’t even wake up to shit for five hours.”

The fabled Port of Augustus was reached and the Statesman steadily cruised along the main drag.

“Here,” Dildo said to Gangrene, handing him a brick as he peered through the windscreen.

“Thanks,” said the white Wiz, “…. Do you want me to throw it at one of these Port of Augustians?”

“Nup. Shove it on the accelerator pedal and don’t take if off till this shithole has faded from memory.”

“Done!” Vroooooooom.

Soon they approached the great shipbuilding metropolis of Valhalla; its iron halls still and quiet; its long main street empty.

“Plague?” suggested Dildo.

“Nup. Cheap nip-built ships. You know what’s the longest thing in Valhalla these days?”


“The dole queue. Let’s eat asphalt.”

Many hours later, on the last leg of the monotonous haul towards the mystical Mount Ting, the Siberian dwarves in the back finally began to stir.

“Right on time, boys,” said Gangrene to the panty-fouled microbes. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”

Scooting round the back of the steel mountain they rolled slowly along a dirt road until a rusted corrugated iron shed came into view.

“That must be the kitchen,” Gangrene whispered.

“Fuk me” uttered Dildo. “If that’s the kitchen I’d hate to see the dunny. Righto you stinky little rats, get in there and get the stuff so we can get out of here!”

“Hang fire, guys. It’s not that simple. The stuff is guarded by a dragon,” warned Gangrene.

“A what??”

“A fukken dragon and look…. there she is!”  cried Gangrene.

It was a truly horrible sight, fukken horrible. Dildo shivered involuntarily.

“Oh my sainted Aunt,” shouted Gangrene. “It’s the Old Dragon with the slag tattoos, and  -  Oh Shit!!! She’s seen us. Take care… avert your eyes or you will turn to jelly! She’s forgotten her teeth!!!” 

The horrible old dragon had eyeballed the car and was making her way angrily towards it, drooling and panting, l the while hungrily sucking in and blowing out her crinkled lips.

“Whoops,” said Didlo. “Looks like she’s spotted the shiny thing and she’s headed this way. Right… now’s a good time for the landfill in the back seat to grab the shit. Run, ya little rats! Get to the shed!”

Dildo popped the back door and smacked the nearest midget in the head, starting a cascade of the little buggers out of the car.

“Get going, you vermin. Grab the shit while the old dragon is attacking the car!”

The dwarves scuttled like a pack of cockroaches into the tin shed and slammed the door shut. Within seconds there emanated from the shed’s interior the sounds of gleeful discovery which quickly turned into greedy snarling and then the fight erupted over possession of the dope.

“Who’d’a, thought, eh, Gangrene? Hope they still got their knives. Uh Oh! Double whoops…. looks like the old dragon has caught an earful of them.”

She had. Her ears pricked and she glared at the shed with hateful eyes, turned and roared like a wounded bull dyke and hollered out: “Not my fukken speed, you don’t!!!”

She stormed back to the shed, kicked down the door and charged inside whereupon she immediately set upon the terrified midgets.

“Time to wrap this up, mate,”  said Dildo, as he pulled a bundle of gelignite sticks from his rucksack, arced up the wick and tossed the firework into the  shed.

“Eat dirt or lose you head, Gangrene!” he shouted as he dove behind a mullock heap.

No sooner had the pair grounded themselves when the explosion erupted, blowing a twenty foot crater in the parched and now severely scorched earth and disintegrating the shed and its occupants.

“Get in the car, mate - out of the red rain; or you’ll be fly bait until we can get a bath.”

As bits of tin, dirt, blood and flesh sprinkled down from the sky, Gangrene confirmed out loud... I knew there was more to this hobbit than meets the eye. “Oh, well, Dildo. Back home then?”

Not likely. I’m gonna keep going, out to the west. You wanna come along?”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing to go back for, but, what about you; don’t you want to go home and get some stuff before you head out to the West?”

“Nah. There’s a fair bit of heat on me back there – the Pinkphinx are chasing up a debt or two and they’ve got my house number… I hope.”

“What do you mean…’I hope’?”

“I’ve just left a … a treasure chest for them if they come knocking.”

“You left some treasure??” enquired Gangrene. “In a chest????”

“Well, more like Pandora’s box. It’s ten kilos of sweating geli in a sack of nails wired up to the front door.  Once that lot is out of the box there’ll be no putting it back in. Westward HO! you pox-faced animal molester.”

And so they passed on to the West and etc, etc, with added fairies, elves and pink elephants.