posted on February 28, 2009 at 8:21 pm

me n kilbey rock up to rehearsal
kilbey complaining n shuddering
we turn up there
miles out in some bleak place
no river no trees no leafy space
factories and wear-houses
kilbey storms across the carpark in a huff
who fuckin’ booked this place he says
jesus look at our hero
in the inevitable army shirt n cord shorts
his sunglasses that make everything orange
wispy bloody hair
white beard
man his pop star days are long gone
he accelerates across the carpark tho
and hits the chocky bar inside the place
immediately bitchin’ at the owner for his “poor selection”
fat vegan you are …i say softly
somebody laughs
kilbey rounds on me
i am what you say i am …he hisses
oh an old line to be sure
kilbey pulls the wrapper off a kinder surprise
and gorges on the choc
ho he takes it downquick
and he trundles into the room listlessly
theres all the boys
and the nice one
and olde you know who
plus some roadies
kilbey chucks on his bass
ooh he hasnt played in a while n now his fingys are saw
ooh lemme play i say
kilbey sullenly hands me the bass
you do fucken better he growls
and the band strike up our new song
boogie in E #
which is about mans basic inhumanity to man
kilbey sings a bit
his ears are hurting
his throat is hurting
his fingers is hurting
oh fer fucks sake c’mon
dingo sets up a little grande piano
and kilbey and i do a duet
on a mawkish maudlin embarrassing tune
about being all sensitive
and all that jazz
we have an argument over the chords
and kilbey slams the lid down on my fingers
what if youd broken them ? i ask
good! he scowls
and opens his 5th tin of berry V energy drink
hey you should cool it on those..that stuff can make ya aggressive..!
he grabs me by the collar
who fucken asked you?!
he goes off to inspect the chocolate selection
while i play and sing n do the work
fuck rehearsal is boring
the others blast away on their rigs
and my ears are ringing like old harry
kilbey pokes his head round the corner
interrupts the song n beckons me
we go out the back
where the guy who runs the place is smoking some dope
oh god aint we had enough i moan
but kilbey is smoking like a demon
wreathed in the poison cloud of noxious fumes
and puffing like the billyo
whatsisname finds us
could one or both of you come back in…please?
how rude he is ..mutters kilbey under his breath
as he wobbles back down the long black corridor
where his fender jazzed bass and his groany voice await
im almost wiv yooo….he warbles
each pluck of the bass ripping up his delicate fingerprince
he stops the song
i hate this song its fucking horrible
cmon stevo… i start
dont fucken start with me ….he chucks the bass down
he storms off again
where he runs through a farce of a yoga routine
and gets bitten by an ant
fucking western suburbs he says
i stay inside n do the right thing
we run through
i am the telescope
and the bass solo is looking good
kilbey is missing out on all this stuff he needs to do
but quite frankly
its better if he stays out there
he comes back in for his felafel n chips
smokes another spliff
and then announcing how tired he is
he sits down at the computer and googles himself
he falls asleep in the sofa
and wakes up with a sore neck n a bad attitude
thats enough for one day…he says
and me n him
pile into our buick
and the night is verily very soft
but guess what
neither of us had any money on us
so i pushed it home
from way out west to cosy in here east
and he complained every step of the way
and it took hundreds of years
dont exaggerate kilbey says
and get with the program
right on!
right on

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