posted on January 1, 2007 at 8:28 pm

so this is 2007 eh?
how futuristic….
the killer sits in kitchen
the harbour bridge is obscured by cloud
everybody sleep sleep sleep
sydney still very quiet
aint this the day that all the “straights” go back to work?
those lazy “straights”…
here i am a first class boheemyan
and im up early n im working…
maybe i should jump in ye olde falcon
and drive round blowing my own horn
today im gonna drive twillies down the south coast
to visit olde frends dr jimmy +the tiny tot
now very very coincidentally
you cant guess whos staying practically next door
(i aint exagerrating!)
keethy urbane and ms nicci mankid
and ive already daydreamed this scenario for ya
the olde being gets up early…as is his wont
hes wandering on that beach
when he hears excuse me
arent you steeeve kill-bee?
i spin around…its a guy about 40
long sandy hair and a cuppla huge body guards
steve! listen man i got all the cherches records dude
oh steve…wont you write some million selling songs with me?
well uh keethy thats nice..but…uh…
cmon steve look i’ll give ya a million right now
(bodyguard whips out a chequebook
keith signs it and rips it out , hands it over)
we go up to niccis holiday house
i meet her daddy doctor horatio mankid the famous elbow surgeon
i meet the sister livinia mankid and her husband whatsisname
and finally
ah she enters the room
austraylias verry verry own
the highest paid feemail moovie star in tha wirld
and shes says
stevie oh i loved priest = aura
and then we all get on like a house on fire
doctor horatio looks at my elbows (got the all-clear)
livinia produces spliff champers n dragons
but keethy …i thought you were in rehab
fuck that maan…its christmas
wow keethy n i get on like brothers
hes read all the same books
he likes all the same records
at the end of a long session
its fixed
im gonna work on keethys new album
hes gonna buy me a mansion in vaucluse
build a studio in basement
we’re going down the lexus shop tomorrow
and hes gonna pick me out a cuppla guzzlahs
i get home to dr j and tt
no one can believe my good luck
we’re sitting there celebrating
when a knock comes at the door
its the bodyguards
mister urbane wants his cheque back…NOW!
but why but why? i ask
one of em reaches into his coat and pulls out a bit of paper
he said to give you this !
the bodyguard rolls it up and almost shoves it down my throat
they take the 1 million buck cheque n leave
i spit the ball of paper from my mouth
its a printout of that damn blogge….
but keethy….i didnt mean it…i didnt know you then…
i sob to myself
gently rocking in a corner
my mother always said my big mouth’d get me into trubble..
and now…
keethy if ya reading this
i wanna say
i love yer new album
im ready to go all country
(i once rode a pony at a school fete)
lets write some earthy stuff
out in the paddock with our hoes at the crack of day
that sort of thing
just gimme another chance

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