Well, that's Christmas done - what's next?
Thursday, 25 December 2014

 Sample ImageThe Wheatie  - Boxing Day with a Configuration of Cosmonauts

The BLURB: Is it The Raging Cosmonauts, The Lonely Thirst or even perhaps The Thirsty Cosmonauts? We’re not really sure but the Boxing Day tradition at the Wheaty continues this year with Don Morrison’s Raging Thirst hosting a line up of distinguished guests from the previous hosts of this auspicious event, The Lonely Cosmonauts.  It will be a lot of fun but in a slightly subdued way that befits the date. Come and recover, forget or renew whilst opening your gifts! Friday 26 December. ime: 8.00 PM


Sample ImageGT Stringer  ---  at the Wheatie --- ATENCIONE!!!...

Saturday December 27 will see Le “GT STRINGER” appearing @ The Wheatsheaf Hotel sporting some new tunes and the full line up of Tristen Andrews, James Biege, Trevor Ramsey, Dennis Kipridis, Gil Atkinson and Nick Kipridis. Come and hear some of the finest Diablo-instro tunes this side of Semaphore Spit!!!







Sample ImagePanic at the Hampshire on January 11.

Yes… the Hampshiore Hotel in whatever street in the City. Sunday Arvo show, not sure of the times yet but will certainly follow up.







A bunch of words from Bside Magazine:

Sample ImageBSide Magazine is Adelaide’s ONLY weekly tabloid PRINT magazine with a focus on the performing arts.

"At the moment 3,000 copies of BSide Magazine is distributed every Thursday afternoon to over 250 hot spots in and around Adelaide.

Below is a link to a PDF of our affordable advertising rates (page 4 of PDF) which begin at $60 (plus GST) for a 1/16th page print ad.

Bside also has a very strong online presence with our website and our Facebook page which will also potentially create lots of engagement opportunities for you and your show.   Across these three platforms, we can also create/customise your ad to suit your needs.

We look forward to hearing from you. If you have any questions or, you wish to book up some advertising space in BSide Magazine for 2015 then reply to this email or call Alec on 0418 843 596."


AMC Sessions at Mortlock Chamber February 9

Sample ImageThis is a big one for sure!! Well, the poster is big enough. But that's so you can read it and I won't have to type in all the details.
Oh... all right. I'll put in some stuff:
It has The Masters Apprentices, the Twilights, Bev Harrell, Doug Ashdown, Heidi Eiderdown (Nah.... just made that up), John Brewster, Shooey, Rockin' Fukken Rob Fukken Riley, Peter Combe, Nit Comb (made that up, too), Chris Finnen, The Timbers, Vincent's Chair, Vinnie's Clothes Rack (I can't help myself), The Baker Suite, The 3-pce Lounge suite (Stop it!), The Beggars, The Buggers (Sorry, really sorry.) and Brillig. Then fine print fine print fine print some logos and shit.
We're getting in early but, read this (from the promoter):
Only 120 tickets available (er... much, much less now....) and no door list, door tickets or comps on this one. So, get a fukn move on....  It will sell out quickly... it is a unique event...in an unique setting. www.trybooking.com/112033













Sample ImageSyn at Sunset….

See the poster … keep rockin’ over the holiday break at Leaconfield (wherever that is...) with the Satellites.
 Syn @ Sunset with The Satellites on Saturday December 27,
Leconfield Wines McLaren Vale - 439 Main Road McLaren Vale
6pm – 9pm  Ph: 8323 8830









January 31 – the Westward Ho Golf Club presents The Party Cats.

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 Still makes me smile:

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Of giving and receiving

The season of giving and receiving – corporate and business entities aside; they have engineered the giving and taking to go in the same direction… theirs!  – reminds me of the time I was Robin Hood. When I say ‘I was R.H.’ I mean when I stood in for Robin Hood in his Sherwood Forest Heyday.
I was down at the Nottingham labour exchange filling in my dole form when the Fat Bastard – not Fat Jo Hockem – Fat Fryer Truck poked his head in the shack to ask for a refill on some Lincoln Green leotards. Now, quite proudly, I admit to having nice legs – they are shapely and nicely well-defined below the knee  - and when I flashed them at the fat bastard he said… “You’ll do!”
It seemed that Robin had got himself a hernia and, having just met a fair maiden whose name escapes me for the moment, he was hoping to present himself at his best; something he didn’t quite feel with his hernia poking out through his forest-dweller rigging.
If I say that I think I made a good Robin Hood replacement I mean that superficially. I looked downright dashing, I did, I thought, and I also thought I had a grip on the business, too. But, as always, my level of operation also tends to be... superficial; a bit shallow; not too deep. It seemed simple enough: steal from the rich and give to the poor. I loved the idea and went straight to work.
Here comes the carriage to Nottingham along the forest road. Clippity Clop Clippity Clop, rumble rumble.
Me: “Bail up, Driver or I’ll have your eye out with me pig-sticker.”
Brakes applied, coach halts.
“You, the fat rich constable in the back, give me all your dough and stuff.”
He hands it over.
“You, coachman, are you comfortably well off?”
"Nah. I’m firkin broke, dude. I’m living off the meagre tips I get from these tight-arsed posh lumps and I have to eat horse shit for breakfast and dinner.
“Right. Here. Have this money.”
“Whee….! I’m rich.”
“Excellent… Hey, what’s the matter with you?”  (to the passenger who was now blubbering like a seal getting eaten by a shark).
“I’ve lost all my money and jewellery; now I’m poor.”
“Right. Hey You! Rich constable up the front. Give me all your dough and jools or I will give you a Chinese burn on each arm!”
“Ahh, bother!  Back to eating horse shit.”
Well, this went back and forth for some time till fellow forestry-based social worker Good Will Huntingdon stepped in and pointed out, with the aid of a portable bit of forest across the back of my head, that it’s best to divvy the loot among a number of poor folk, which was how the system seems to work better.
That sounded like a reasonable suggestion. However, when I got control of the loot again and started to identify poor folk who might be worthy recipients I remembered that I, too, was poor. But, on my way to cash converters with the gold and jools I was interrupted again by Good Fukn Will Huntingdon and another of his pieces of portable forest.
Guinevere. That’s who it was. No, Hang on a minute. Maid Marion; that’s the woman in question. Cracker of a bird; love to have a shot on her meself.
Anyhow, when I regained consciousness I saw that I was back at camp, de-mobbed and being given the push. Robin Hood was back in charge. Turns out the hernia wasn’t as serious as it first appeared.  The lads, living in the forest for so long, don’t often come in close contact with members of the opposite sex and Robin, having got the grope (tops and tails) on a sheila – the said Maid of Marion and Surrounding Localites -  for the first time since puberty had cracked a pioneer stiffy which was misinterpreted as an lethal hernia. A visit to the hospital and an encounter with a cold spoon had set the whole thing to rights.
For R.H., that is. Me … I’m back on the dole queue. Broke, but still got nice legs, though, even without the leotards.