posted on February 12, 2006 at 11:43 pm

goode mourning my friendss
your humble scribe feeling sad and reflective
monday monday
first yessaday
when i was young
and when i shoulda been bloogging to ya
i laying lazily around chez kilbey
eating poached pears and reading the sunday rags
i notice headline australian man suicide american plane
i start to read article
oh no i know this guy
very very well
his name was gerry georgettis
he was a greek version of rambo
he was our front of house mixer and tour manager
back in about 85, 86
a more level headed and serious dude
you could not meet
i remember one night in perth
we were parked outside some gig
theres a bloke furiously trying to puncture all the tires
on our van
gerry just stands behind guy
letting the little monkey do his thing
till he gets a feeling hes being watched
he turns around
gerry standin’ there
built like a brickshithouse
gerry says very quietly, very calmly
good day mate..
the guy falls apart
gerry lifts him up gently
and carries him away
like a mother cat
carrying a mouse
another time we driving back from newcastle
a load of people in the car
screaming laughing taking drugs
fighting drinking and carrying on
gerrys at the wheel
were going really fast
suddenly a cop appears
his siren penetrating the murky din of the van
we gonna go down for sure
the cops got us red handed
we pull over
cop pulls over
does all his cop ritual thing
comes over
gerry rolls down window
the fumes of neils purple heads
and alcohol
permeate the crisp night air
the cop looks at gerry
(say this next line in a kath and kim aussie accent)
sir, you were doing over 130 kilometres an hour….
do you have any good reason for travelling at this speed?
gerry looks at the cop
he narrows his eyes
its been a long day
and im in a hurry to get home
the cop asseses the sitch
he gives gerry a quick fine
and pisses off
and we’re off
it was in gerrys look you see
he had this it aint worth fucking w/ me look
gg rip

and talking of the olde days
i remember another guy
a pop star roadie
as they used to call em
man this guy was a legend
a truly wild man
tho im sure he mixed us awfully bad
but people used to talk about rock stars
living lives outside the law…
this guy
he was big and strong
he took all drugs and drink all the time
we had a week off in perth once
he and his offsider lay in their beds
having room service
watching telly
and snorting cocaine
for a solid week!
no i dont appaud that behaviour particularly
but i cannot but wonder at the stamina
and singlemindedness
this guy was a wild womaniser
he liked mothers and daughters
identical twins
other mens wives
you know what i mean
he carried weapons and drugs everywhere
he had that dont fuck w/ me look too i guess
this is a strange story yall
we wos in tasmania
which is strange in itself
and we were backstage before the gig
and this guy bursts in
some tasmanian punter
and his opening salvo is
ah here ya are ya bastards
i wanted to have a fuckin’ talk to ya..
our big nasty roadie says it just once
but he was serious
get out mate
mr tasmania misjudges the moment
he says
ah dont be a cunt….
before anybody knows whats happnin’
roadie goes boof
punches guy in his ample beer gut
just like in the movies the guy grunts
and doubles over
the roadie delivers coup de grace
an uppercut
which connects directly with tas-dudes eye
oh how i remember and hate
that peculiar particular sound
of knuckle connecting with eye
in the lexicon of fighting
it has its own place
just like the sound of a broken nose
or the sound of a fist connecting with a brick wall
all of these and more have i heard
from the trenches and frontlines of bully high
any how the roadie slugs this guy in the eye
and throws him outta the dressing room
(i did not approve of this behaviour)
any way
the chruch hit the stage
the guys stand right in front of me
all night
looking at me
with his black eye
and hes crying
that can ruin yer gig
let me tell you

and you thought it was all dancing on clouds
but it aint
its waiting around
sodding about
and dealing with things like that
one serious idiot can ruin a gig of thousands
a guy called jesus
not the famous one
but another
a famous english hippy
back in 70s and 80s
he turned up at our first ever english show
it was at the venue in victoria, london
we had 2000 people
we couldnt believe it
dave gilmore from pink fluid was there
the crowd went crazy as soon as we walked on
hang on
they dont do that in sydnee or mell-bin
certainly not in tasmania or wagga wagga
or wollongong or maroochydore
nor in ooodnadatta
but here in london
they clapping
they screaming
you know
just like a real audience does,
in the movies…
i keep turning around
there must be somone else up here
surely theyre not screaming for us??!!
this is our 1st gig ever outside
the aussie pub crowd
dont go in for clapping
or screaming
unless theyre screaming for ya blood!!
any way
this be olde sks dream
to be vindicated in the mother country
to make it in ingland
so im really enjoying this
we do
you took
our tour de force
the crowd going bah na nahs
we get down to really quiet bit
me and ploogy lock eyes
we get it simmering
we gonna build these pommies up
to a fuckin orgasm baybee
but whats this
jesus is approachin the stage
all kaftan and wild hair
hes comin down to the front
so everyone there
could see that
he was giving his regal bohemian blessing
to these paisley ozzie space wokkers
but whats this??
oh no
he has a tambourine
and hes banging it round outta time
in ploogys earshot
ploogys eyes register panic
just before he falls off the beat
and the whole band slides into a bizarre
black hole
where there is no time

i love you my darlings

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