Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Modest Proposal #4

Amco V Knees
Paul Robeson Str
10439 Berlin

Vic Arts
Theatre Funding and Development Board

When I come home I want some funding. I'm on holiday at present and I really want to get stuck into a new project. So, I want money for 100's of professional masseurs, one after the other, to publically massage me to Death in the Melbourne Myer windows of Burke St for this year's Melbourne Festival for the Arts. And if we can't make Death, then a complete Mental and Physical Breakdown - or Complete Collapse: I want to be completely unrecognisable to myself: 'Hello, who are you ? Wow, your lips move when I say stuff.' This sort of thing etc etc etc. All live, 24 hrs a day, non-stop public entertainment, family entertainment, for at least the length of the festival. Maybe longer. Depends on the factors. I will also be asking strangers: 'If you would like to be part of an exciting new team and be a Monitor of my wellbeing during this Marathon of Tenderness, and possibly be on Duty when Death or Complete Collapse is realised, please contact me blaa blaa blaa etc etc etc.'

I would actually prefer Complete Collapse over Death because I could tour this to Edinburgh, maybe Adelaide.

The title of the piece is 'Relax, Cunts'. I'm not sure if we can publish that as it is but give it a try.

Kind Regards
Baron V Knees

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Modest Proposal #3

I hate skywriting. So, I wrote this letter. No response yet.

To: Glenn Smith Aerial Advertising

Address: Ashtonfield NSW & Mornington Vic
Subject: Quote for Skywriting

Dear Glenn, I am the producer of an hilarious new satirical magazine for Sydney and Melbourne called, BAN THIS. How much would it cost to write BAN THIS, NOW over the skies of both capitals this Australia Day ? I understand the comma might be difficult and, if so, it can be omitted.

Kind regards


Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Shady's Modest Response

Received email from Fergus at Shady O'Reilly's over in Brunswick. Fergus - yeah right. What razor thin wit. What effort. Couldn't spare me the yo in You. He's casual, he's inconsistant, he's a liar, and he uses a false name: sounds like the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
Great idea AVK,
i will keep u informed.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Modest Proposal #2

In bed sick last week, remembering stuff.

Ages ago I went for a Guinness at Shady O’Reilly’s in Brunswick Rd. The bar staff were from Dublin. With plastered on smiles they strutted about and bantered cheekily with the customers. But when they weren’t serving they looked suicidal. What was going on ? Then the band got up on stage. Then I understood. A pig ugly family act of Hillbilly Aussie Fucks from Dandenong tearing through old Irish standards with appalling skill and with commensurate Irish accents. They were like a Far and Away tribute band.

The bar staff stood grinding their teeth. They started with a few Irish hits and then just gave up and began taking requests - Beatles, Abba, then Cold Chisel’s, Khe Sanh. Fucking priceless. I asked the barman what was Gaelic for ‘plastic fucking crap ?'. He pointed to the walls, ceiling, floor, the band, and himself. Then he pours me a pint of Kilkenny, on the house.

Remembering stuff on hold. Cue: Elevator music.

I crawled out of bed and shot off emails to the three ugly stepsisters of Irish Pubery: Shady O’Reilly’s Brunswick, Dodgy O’Reilly’s the city, and Shonky O’Reilly’s South Yarra:
Top of the mornin’ to you
Please tell me if your venue is smoking or non-smoking ?


Within seconds they all quipped back:
Yes, you can smoke anywhere in our venue - and have a Great Day.
Have a great day, eh ? The first reply was from Shonky in Sth Yarra, from the Promotions Manager, Trixie Stringer. Irish as. I shot three back:
Hello again (by the way, you should have replied to my initial email with ‘And the rest of the day to yourself.’ - just a little thing, but when you're given the top of morning by someone you give them the rest of the day-you're an Irish Pub and all.)

Did you realize that as of 29th March 2004 smoking was banned in all enclosed workplaces in Ireland and this includes Pubs and Bars ? Moreover, publicans allowing punters to smoke can be fined £2500.

I was thinking, if you really want to offer THE authentic Irish Pub experience, why don't you ban smoking in your venue tomorrow AND implement those hefty fines for breaking the rules ? Please take this to a meeting and keep me in the Loop.

Fond Regards
It’s been two days and they haven’t tinkled my Inbox. I may send them this:
I have also been working on some ideas to help maintain the high standard of Music in your venue. You may wish to include the following in your Performers' Application Form. Take from this what you will. I expect nothing .

Dear applicant . . .

How many teeth do you have ?
Can you get more if management request you have a least one ?
Is Shane McGowan a matinee idol ?

Were you ever given detention at school for drooling ?
Have you ever chased and beaten a person because they were wearing a hat ?
Your servant

Anyone got any other suggestions before I send ?

Monday, November 22, 2004

Modest Proposal #1

Windsor Smith
Sales Manager
John Bradley
198 High St Preston
Victoria 3072

Dear Sir, my name is Graham. I'm 11 and I have an idea for shoes. I want to know what you think and maybe we could make a pair and see if people like them.

I was just released from a boys prison in Melbourne. A staff member showed us an old video one night and when the people in the movie walked somewhere their shoes sounded great. Like they were walking on steel covered in nice sand with shoes made of glass. The Staff said these shoes only exist in movies. I love the sound of those shoes from those old movies now. They make me feel happy. I want to be a businessman and invent things that make people happy because I have been so unhappy and I hurt a boy very badly when we were playing with a toaster and I got all the blame and went to jail for 2 days. I don't want to go back there because one boy tried to stick my hand in the big toaster in the kitchen and he only got sent to his room early. I want to give all the money to the boy I hurt. I can't use his name because his mum is angry with me and he may not ever be able to have kids and i am very sorry and i want to help him.

I'd love to know what you think about shoes that make you sound like you are in the movies. My dad and brother helped me write this on the computer and he called today to get your address. Hope that is cool too.
Thank you

Sunday, November 07, 2004

John Laws is Border Protection

Screen the movie, The Nickel Queen, overseas 24/7. In it Laws plays a Hippie/Beat poet - in the 70's. Some of the contents may have settled etc, but my memory is of Laws presenting with the sensitivity and physicality of a six foot tree spider with comb-over in tight moleskins that recites poetry in the desert. Yep, Jesus. It is pure acid on the foreskin of a new born. No refugees will come here. No one will come.

I wonder what his inner monologue was during shooting?

. . . the light is it catching my hardening cock ? That's all the matters . . . hah, film talk . . . 'catching the light'. Fuck, it's my line. Pwew, that was close. I'm fitting right in. I like it here I'm happy - wooow cock going soft. Don't look down, stare heroically. Remember to watch Rushes over breakfast and check packet size. Two eggs one sausage, please. That's not helping. Eeeekfuck. Dick limp as. If I have to think of mother undressing then I will. Easy, easy now. Oh yeah. Easy. That's doing the trick. Mummy rushing down there with a bandaid. Tungsten Tipped, that's what Suzie used to call it, ha. Memories. Blood. Flooding in. Glorious Boyhood and the crack in the door. The watching and rubbing. Smell of Mummies vibrator after school . . . tastes like metal ? It's chipped, hmmm ? Dad's tooth . . . chipped.
Teaspoon of jam, Mummies home in ten minutes. Fuck, this desert's hot. I'm earning every penny today. Citius, altius, fortius - I'm talking diamond here, pal. Harder you bitch. Jesus, where's that sexy 2nd assistant director gone ? Fuck what's the next line ? Where's my mark ? Next job's going to be at a desk; dim light, alone, fuck this shit . . . hello you're on air . . . yes I'm right here unzipped in the dark Bazza . . . go right ahead. You want to talk about Faggots Bazza ? Thank you, mate. Thank you. Do you mind if I play Charles Aznavour's 'How Sad Venice Can Be', underneath while you scream . . . thank you mate, thank you mate.
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Connex - I know what the problem is.

My first blog.

Looked up and into the buttcheeks of Connex's timetabling woes yesterday with this announcement at Flinders St station:

'Passengers, the 8.78 Upfield train, platform five, will be running 13 minutes late. Connex apologise for the inconvenience.'

The train arrived in 3 minutes.