Author Archives: justin

NOTE: You can read it in black text on white if you’d prefer here

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LapTopping – The Bit Long, Official E-zine of The Bedroom Philosopher
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ISSUE 62
Wednesday November 7 2007
Estimated Reading Time: 10:04.
**Sydney Single Launch TOMORROW!**
**Melbourne Single Launch Nov 14!**

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LT BIRTHDAYS

Happy Birthday Mark Philippoussis 31 today!
Happy Birthday Joni Mitchell 64 today!
Happy Birthday Jeremy London (Griffin, Party of Five) 35 today!
Happy Birthday Parker Posey (Christopher Guest films) 39 tomorrow!
Happy Birthday Courtney Thorne-Smith (Melrose Place) 40 tomorrow!

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SONG TO GET STUCK IN YOUR HEAD OF THE DAY

Iko Iko – Various.

“My flag boy and your flag boy were
Sit-tin’ by the fire. – my flag boy told
Your flag boy: “i’m gon-na set your flag on fire.”
Talk-in’ ’bout, hey now ! hey now ! i-ko, i-ko, un-day
Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né. – jock-a-mo fee na-né.”

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TOP TEN WORST WAYS TO PROPOSE MARRIAGE

1. Write it in texta on a toilet door then send your partner in.

2. Conspire with a homeless person to come up to you and ask for money so they can make a phone call. You say, ‘no, sorry, but how ’bout I give you a ring?’ You then turn to your partner and pull one out.

3. Order a roast of the day and put the ring under the meat.

4. Give your partner a modest voucher for a jeweller and tell them to go in and put one on lay-by. You communicate this through a note on the fridge.

5. Get ‘Will you marry me?’ tattooed on your arm. Have a tattoo artist standing by to scribe the answer on your partner.

6. In a butcher, you spell it out in cocktail sausages.

7. Get a friend to call your partner and tell them you’ve been in an accident. You go to the hospital bleeding and covered in bandages. When your partner rushes in you pretend to go into cardiac arrest, while they are freaking out the heart monitor machine starts playing the wedding song. You sit up and say ‘I can’t imagine life without you either,’ and propose. The doctor pulls off your fake bloodied hand and says to your partner ‘you must take this hand in marriage – STAT!’

8. On election day, in the polling booth. You make up a fake voting form which has four of your partner’s ex’s and your name. You then stand beside your own ballot box which says ‘Vote 1 For Marriage.’ For an added touch, you can have some of your friends and family campaigning for you outside.

9. You send your partner on an amazingly intricate treasure hunt, full of clues, forcing them to travel all around the city finding little packages hidden in trees and down alleys. They have to ring their friends for clues, look on the Internet, receive letters by post, etc. In the end, after several days, the final clue says ‘put on this suit.’ Your partner unravels a package to find a leather jumpsuit covered in pins. There is also a note telling them to ‘go in the bedroom and dance about until it’s empty.’ They go in, to find it chock-a-block with balloons, and proceed to pop them all. When this is done, you walk in from the balcony, impeccably dressed with a martini, and propose. Unfortunately your partner is in a state of shock and temporarily deafened from the balloons and can’t answer.

10. On the couch, in your trackies, in front of who wants to be a millionaire, with a mouthful of tuna.

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PEOPLE ARE STRANGE, BUT YOU ARE STRANGER!

From James Borman, Melbourne.

Just heard a person ask the “Sandwich Artist” at Subway:

“How long is the six inch sub?”

Have you overheard some memorable conversation of late? Perhaps witnessed a member of the ‘peeps’ doing something comical or weird?
Let Bev know at [email protected]
Include your home city or town.

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INANIMATE OBJECT BEREAVEMENTS NOTICES

*****
DIED
*****

Emma Ward, Melbourne. (My housemate)

“I smashed my favourite plate yesterday. I’m not sure if you know our plates very intimately but it was the white one with the black outline of the flowers on it. I usually go through all the plates in the cupboard so I can use it for my toast, and now it’s dead. But I couldn’t quite let go of it so I put it in the top drawer of my new desk and now every time I shift my legs I can hear its broken little bones clank together. It’s so sad. I might try and glue it back together. Do you have any glue?”

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WE PRAY FOR THEIR RECALIBRATION
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Do you have an inanimate object that is ailing or has passed on? Let the
LapTopping community ease your suffering by emailing Bev with your home city or town:
[email protected]

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GET A WRIGGLE ON GOOGLET!

Several phrases people have typed into Google to land on my website lately:

”shaking hands with girls”
“brett lee in speedos”
“bleach training 2 how to do nan”
“whippet standing on lap”
“how to make edible crayons”
“mongolian thermos”
“dwarves on surfboards”
“bendy wendy the man”
“teen media centre bedroom”
“rhyming couplets for clock”
“sideburn society”
“coriander got aphids”
“bagpipe bikini”
“recipe for cheesymite school”
“scared old people”
“bruce samazan”
“contactable girls”

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TIME IS CHEESE AND MOUSE IS HUNGRY!

If you love reading reviews of your favourite albums, check out www.metacritic.com They tabulate reviews from all around the world, average them out, and rate albums by their own points system.

Two exciting animations called:

Animator Vs Animation

Animator Vs Animation 2

Got a tip-off for some e-nuggets? Let us know: [email protected]

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A GIGGLE OF GIGS

The Happiest Boy Single Launch Tour. Sydney and Melbourne to go.

Please make this the night of my life, Damien Leith style. I promise I’ll do my falsetto and scissor kicks.

* Sydney Single Launch. (Solo. All Ages & Licensed.) Thursday November 8. The Factory Theatre. 105 Victoria Road, Enmore. With a premium line-up of Richard In Your Mind + The Crooked Fiddle Band. $12. 8pm. RIYM are opening, I’m in the middle, with The Crooked Fiddle Band closing.

* Melbourne Single Launch. (with The Awkwardstra) Wednesday November 14. The Toff In Town. 252 Swanston St. With Special Guests Mal Webb + Josh Earl. $12. 7:45pm.

PLEASE NOTE:
The following excuses aren’t accepted:

Uni.
Money.
CSI’s on.
Can’t be arsed.
Go away.
I’m sick.
I’m clinically depressed.
I think you’re going down a self-indulgent path the kind which I don’t wish to be privvy to.
You’re not Damien Leith.

* I’ll be living a dream and being a male go-go dancer in a cage at Melbourne’s Blow Up Collective at the Evelyn, Brunswick St from 11pm on election night. (They play the most danceable mix of 60’s soul/funk and psychedelic garage) November 24. $12.

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STORYTIME

(Brought to you by My First Existential Crisis. Finally, a story book for children that teaches them about the potential spiritual void of adulthood. Follow Gavin the platypus as he reaches a point in the river where he just doesn’t feel like paddling anymore.)

THE BEDROOM PHILOSOPHER’S PETER COMBE TOUR DIARY

Canberra, ANU Bar. October 4.

The palpable nostalgia-fest of Combemania continued. Tonight was sold out. 350 people. There was a massive band room, which was basically a disused cafeteria. I was presented with my own personal rider of six Beck’s in a little metal tray with ice. (The beer, not the person, that would be weird.) I could have wept. There were also sandwiches. Backstage sandwiches are a sign that your entertainment career is moving forward. There was a great moment when the crowd were roaring, I was about to go on, and Peter and his keyboard player Phil were talking about whether you need to wear glasses to watch television.

This may sound strange, but I consider myself a connoisseur of toilets. Nothing makes me happier than a clean, lemony, well tiled men’s urinal. Knowing that I’ll spend quite a lot of important pre-gig time there, a restroom with a breezy, fresh feel can really make my day. I think there’s a certain brand of urinal cakes, that in combination with an open, spring-time window, takes me back to a happy childhood place of hanging out at the Wynyard Bowls Club with my family. Smell is the wormhole for memories. That said, the ANU backstage toilets only got two stars from me. There was a very peculiar, bitter off-tang.

My set went well. During Generation ABC I did my “hosted by James Valentine he made it cool to be nerdy” ‘mock-rock’ move which is a crappy leap up off the foldback speaker. Tonight, the speaker was unexpectedly light-weight, and toppled into the front row, spilling a girls drink. It earned a cheer and acted as a pleasant reminder that I haven’t renewed my public liability insurance yet.

Tonight, there were girls that had ‘P-hizzle to the Combe-izzle’ type shirts in fluro pink. Plus, ‘Belly flop in my pizza.’ Sexualising innocent childhood lyrics, who would have thunk it? There have been a number of discussions about the ‘potential adult overtones’ of Peter’s lyrics. The truth is, it’s not that hard to make anything dirty. The double meanings are no more prevalent than with ‘Juicy Juicy Green Grass’ (“I’ve never been so hungry before”). I am very fond of Peter’s earnest response to this. ‘I just wrote the song about grass.’

You need to understand the sight of tall, muscular blokes trying to fold their own paper hats out of newspapers and literally skipping their way back into the crowd. This is the magical essence of Combe gigs. The emotional cocktail of such unashamedly joyful abandon set in the insular mood-pit of the average band room. My favourite moment was when Peter was halfway through ‘Toffee Apple.’ I walked up the back of the room to hear gunshots, and found a guy playing ‘Virtua Cop 3.’

Wollongong, The Heratige Hotel, October 4.

At first the crowd were small and mostly wary of my haphazard flamboyance. By the end of the set they had distinctly warmed to me. There were a number of older blokes who would kind of creep in with a beer in hand, stand near the toilets with their head slightly tilted, as if to say ‘who’s this bloke?’ At the end of my set, the sound guy put the house music on, which happened to be the particularly morose ‘Explain’ by Sarah Blasko. I yelled out ‘nuh, no way, you’re not ending it with Blasko. No way. Not Blasko! Hit skip!’ Which he politely did.

There were some technical difficulties for Phil the keyboardist tonight. At last night’s gig he’d got so excited that he’d put his leg up on the keyboard to play it and broken one of the keys.

Newcastle, The Northern Star Hotel, October 5.

This venue is a mystery. The stage is tiny, and covered in tables as they do meals up until 9:30pm, when they frantically scoot everyone out. Meanwhile, they have an advanced technological set up of a live camera filming the gig and relaying it to a television set mounted on the wall. The sound engineer has a computer set up with a digital projector. He asked me what my stage name was, typed it in, and proceeded to project it against the back wall of the stage. I suggested he type it in Wing dings, but he just said ‘people wouldn’t be able to read it.’ I felt alone. He then asked me to pick out ten or so pictures from file, that he was going to project during my songs. Unsure what to go for, I selected a sad looking puppy, a psychedelic pattern, and a rubik’s cube. During I’m So Post Modern, sure enough, I looked behind me and there was the cube.

One of the rowdiest crowds I’ve ever seen were chanting ‘Combe – Combe’ before I even went on, so my expectations were low. But setting myself to hyper drive, they were receptive. (I was opening all of these shows with an acoustic rendition of the Astro Boy theme, which helped.) For each show I was introducing Peter, doing my favourite line of ‘I’m sorry everyone – but Peter’s sick. (Crowd start to flip out). Sick of waiting to play! (Crowd cheers). Tonight though, Peter was still having a nap upstairs, and I was left on the stage fidgeting like someone waiting to be picked in P.E dance class.

After the show, I had this conversation with a kid.
Kid: Who wrote I’m So Post Modern?
Me: I did.
Kid: Yeah, I saw you play it, but who wrote it?
Me: I did. It’s my song.
Kid: Really, seriously?
Me: Yeah.
Kid: Oh wow I saw that one night on Rage. So how do I hear your other songs?
Me: I’ve got albums for sale over at merch.
Kid: (Looks confused) Oh. Are you on the radio?
Me: Um. JJJ play me sometimes.
Kid: Oh. (disappointed) Okay. I dunno. I just listen to alternative stations and the Foo Fighters, that sort of thing. (Kid walks off.)

To think, he thought I was some hack doing Bedroom Philosopher covers. Sometimes I feel that way myself. (cue violins)

Sydney. The Metro. October 7.

Big venue. Big crowd. Big occasion. I played for my life. There was some unprovoked yelling of praise from the audience like ‘you put the funk in simon and garfunkle’ which I liked. Later, my friend Leigh, my manager Saskia and I were sitting around in the stairwell ‘passing the hat around.’ No narcotics, we literally only had one newspaper hat between us. My friend Leigh was feeling especially cynical and vowed not to enjoy the night, but four songs in Peter played ‘Chish, Fips and Rausage Souls’ which Leigh remembered from childhood and was forced to spend the rest of the night grinning foolishly. Tonight Peter had some of his children as the backing band. I especially liked the two minute prog-rockish solo during Juicy Juicy Green Grass. I ran into Lindsay from Triple J breakfast. He had seen my set, then gone to see Motorhead, then come back to see Peter – without a safety net.

Geelong. The National Hotel. October 10.

I found tonight to be the hardest of all the Combe gigs. I didn’t feel much love from the crowd, although I was assured there were fans up the back, I just couldn’t see them with my Mr Magoo genetics. The crowd were particularly restless, even for Peter, and when he started there were still about fifty people outside smoking. (So much smoking!) My theory was that Geelong was a little more self conscious about the whole ‘Peter Combe’ thing, and thus weren’t quite prepared to put out as much as other towns. That said, the Nash does great noodles, has friendly bar staff and were playing some great 60’s soul and funk in the front bar. I even heard one of the drum breaks from Odelay, and was slightly disappointed that Beck hadn’t invented it.

Ballarat. The Karova Lounge. October 12.

What is it about country town shops wanting to put ‘z’ instead of ‘s’ in their names? Ballarat: Sports Biz. Burnie: Gents Cutz. Coffs Harbour: Sportz Central. Know anymore? Send them in and I’ll feature them next issue. This was a big ol’ band room that was sold out at 250 punters. By gosh I’ve never had such a rousing reception to my first song. Kids in the front row were literally dancing and clapping along to Golden Gaytime. So much so I had to stop and compose myself. It was a LOUD gig for me. Blinding lights, heaps of fold back and crowd going bananas. A long way from the coffee houses of Melbourne where I made my name. I’ve discovered the joy of ear plugs. Seriously, you wear sunnies when it’s sunny but what about your ears? Most gigs are just too loud, let’s face it, let alone nightclubs. I’m enjoying being Mr Sensitive in my cardigan and ear plugs. That’s why I drink, my thoughts are too loud. (cue violins)

Launceston. The James Hotel. October 13.

Towards the end of the tour and I’ve got no idea what day it is or where I am. I was quite rudely asked at the airport if I’d handled any horses recently. I naturally lied and said no. This gig was lightly attended, mainly due to the AWOL gig in Burnie. A high volume of paper hats tonight. Possibly even two toffee apples. I heard a guy say after ‘I’ve never smiled so much during a gig in my life.’

Hobart. The Republic Bar. October 14.

I drove from Launceston to Hobart with Peter and Phil. We played a game called 20 questions where you have to ask ‘yes or no’ questions to guess who the famous person was. Peter guessed Leonard Cohen. I guessed Al Gore. We stopped in at a little country pub for a counter meal. Peter looked at the menu and asked the waitress what ‘Scallops and bacon en brochette’ was. The girl thought about it and said ‘its kind of scallops and bacon – on a stick.’ I also overheard a lady ordering a fish schnitzel, which I didn’t know had even been invented yet. I had the most amazing fruit crumble with five fresh fruits and ice cream. It was homemade, and the woman who made it was sitting opposite us. I thanked her humbly, and asked if it was a family recipe. ‘Oh no, I just found it on the Internet.’

The gig was packed. Hobart really upped the ante on the newspaper fashions. One older gent had made an akubra shaped formal hat, while a girl had made an entire newspaper dress with a tie! I got on stage and some cheeky 18 year old girl said ‘you look like Austin Powers’ which is my number one pet hate in the world, for future reference. And later, in between songs she’d say stuff like ‘take off your pants.’ Having endured enough of her demonic jibes I made an example of her saying: ‘Look at you with your cruiser. You’re up to mischief tonight.’ After the show I heard a girl say: “I’ve never seen an audience at the Republic pay so much attention to the band before.”

This was a rare and precious pop cultural phenomenon that I was privileged to be a part of. I can only hope my audience will also grow up with me, and that in 20 years I can look down to see a bitter and confused middle aged fan base, booing the balding, overweight, incoherent blind guy in pyjamas. (cue violins)

THE END

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LAYTOPING IS MISPELLED, AND FREE! WHAT A GREAT GIFT IDEA, AND IT’LL CUT YOUR ENERGY BILLS IN HALF! SEND IT TO A FRIEND!

To be added to this Ezine check out the ‘LapTopping’ section of the website.

Last time someone cried: Danielle – “When I got too big for my pink power ranger outfit.”

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NOTICE & DISCLAIMER:

This thing, and the fritters transmitted with it, are crusty and intended to be scrunched up and thrown at cars by the individual or multi-national conglomerate grandad in underpants to whom they are smacked. If you are beautiful and have appeared in an Anne Geddes photograph recently, then you are not permitted to distribute or use this email or any of its attachments in any way, even if you’re particularly lonely and so is the email and you buy the drinks and you say look can we just lie in bed I won’t even touch you, then the next thing it leads to a hand massage, you smelling emails hair like a creep and before you know it you’re reliving your grade six drama eisteddfod loss and crying like a bunyip. Turnip officer retrograde East German vulgar chest vortex paragraph sentinel peanut jagger sideways, volume wang. Or else.

This email crud has been Cyrus-scanned, so don’t break our expectations, our achy breaky expectations, I just don’t think our self esteem would understand. Although no commuter viruses were detected, this Korean guy sneezed all over my briefcase this morning – idiot. East Gippsland Ladies Lacrosse Association accept no liability for any consequential damage resulting from our over 50’s division C team whooping your butts at the state finals next year. Seriously get some lamingtons, a busker’s permit and do something with your life!
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DON’T FORGET –
“Talk-in’ ’bout, hey now ! hey now ! i-ko, i-ko, un-day
Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né. – jock-a-mo fee na-né.”

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LapTopping – The Bit Long, Official E-zine of The Bedroom Philosopher
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ISSUE 61
Tuesday 2nd October 2007.
Estimated Reading Time: 17:22.
www.myspace.com/thebedroomphilosopher
dev2.topfive.com.au/
**New Single ‘The Happiest Boy’ is out now!**
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LT BIRTHDAYS!

Happy Birthday Sting 56 today!
Happy Birthday Yokozuna (WWF Wrestler) 41 today!
Happy Birthday Dizzee Rascal 22 yesterday!
Happy Birthday Gary Ablett 46 yesterday! (And what a present)

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STREET TEAM PEEPS WANTED

Thanks to everyone who volunteered to be extras in a film clip. The news is that a clip of that nature has been put on the back burner for now. But you have all been filed away and will be contacted once I’ve got enough money to be able to shoot on real film.

Street Team Peeps are required to put up posters in major cities in exchange for a ticket to my Single and Album launch gigs! If you like the idea of whacking up about 20 posters in high density areas (not just the back of your brother) then please reply to this email with your name and address. Regards.

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CRAFT SINGLES
INTRODUCING – THE HAPPIEST BOY

The first single from ‘Brown & Orange’ has been released by Nan & Pop Records. It’s called The Happiest Boy. It has a film clip which was made by David Blumenstein AKA Nakedfella. You can see the clip and find a link to purchase it on my Myspace page. (www.myspace.com/thebedroomphilosopher)

The Happiest Boy is a song I’ve had kicking around for about three years, probably written initially in late 2004. It was almost included in the setlist of my ‘Pyjamarama’ show (Melbourne Comedy Festival 2005) but at the last minute I left it out because I didn’t think it was funny enough. For this reason, it didn’t tend to get played live very much, until more recently, being included in my 2006 Melbourne Fringe Festival show. I spent a lot of time honing the lyrics, and finding the right blend of pop culture references. For the recorded version, I also included the extended bridge instrumental section, making way for this Spring’s secret weapon – Michael O’Connor on double flute solo! (Finger on the pulse? I gave the pulse the finger.)

On the track I play Jeff the twelve string guitar which I borrowed from ex Harmonica Lewinski’s band mate Adam Forbes. The vocals and guitar were initially recorded by my uncle, Ken Heazlewood (In Bed With My Doona) at his HumbleHouse Studios in Emu Plains. All additional recording and producing was done by Martin “Moose” Lubran at Mystic Moose Studios, South Yarra. This was no mean feat as the song wasn’t played to a click track and he had to personally track the drums to fit some thirty different tempo changes within the song. (I couldn’t decide!) It was mastered by Crystal Mastering in Melbourne.

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LAPTOPPING’S “SONG TO GET STUCK IN YOUR HEAD” OF THE DAY

Roxette – She’s Got The Look

“Fire in the ice, naked to the T-bone
Is a lover's disguise, banging on the head drum
Shaking like a mad bull, she's got the look”
(LapTopping recommends viewing the rest of the lyrics, possibly the most dire in pop song history.) http://www.lyrics007.com/Roxette%20Lyrics/The%20Look%20Lyrics.html

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TOP FIVE MOVIE MASH UP CONCEPTS

1. GHOST / GHOSTBUSTERS

During one of the sensitive scenes between Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, Bill Murray bursts in with lasers a-blazing, and sends Swayze packing into the ghost toaster. Later, in that scene where Whoopi Goldberg is channelling Swayze, and he and Demi Moore have a pash, it turns out to be Slimer.

2. BACK TO THE FUTURE / TERMINATOR 2

Doc and Marty muck up the controls, and end up in the future as foreseen by Terminator 2. They’re in the middle of one of those ‘machine VS man’ laser battles. Doc’s hair gets singed by a passing bullet, hilarity ensues and Marty ends up towing the car on his hover skateboard, narrowly getting them to the necessary 88mph. (Where they are sent back to the Terminator 2 ‘present,’ and end up in the truck / motorbike chase sequence.)

3. HERBIE / TRANSFORMERS / WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT

During a pivotal battle scene between Optimus Prime and Megatron, Herbie skulks into shot and squirts oil on Megatron’s foot. Megatron is annoyed.
He picks Herbie up, and puts him into a drum of acid.
(Note: For those who may be unfamiliar, In Who Framed Roger Rabbit one of the saddest film moments ever occurs when the bad guy does the same thing with a little squeaky shoe.)

4. THE MASK / V IS FOR VENDETTA / MAN ON THE MOON

V takes his mask off and suddenly he’s Jim Carrey who is still playing Andy Kaufmann who is actually behind the entire revolution thing. At the end, all the bombs go off but they’re only fireworks and everyone gets milk and cookies.

5. SHOP GIRL / TRISTRAM SHANDY

Shop girl could only be saved if at some point, Steve Martin and Claire Danes looked at each other and went all meta-fictional and out of character and said ‘What are we doing? This film stinks.’ The latter half of the movie is the real life adventure behind the scenes of such an average film being made, al la Tristram Shandy.

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PEOPLE ARE STRANGE, BUT YOU ARE STRANGER!

From Anna Knight, Melbourne

I overheard two girls having this conversation over a photocopier at Melbourne University:

Private School Girl 1: Yeah, like, I don't think I'm even gonna go to the lecture. It's so boring.
Private School Girl 2: Yeah…what's it about?
Private School Girl 1: Civil Rights.

From Happy Monkey, of Perth.

Heard this in the ladies' toilets while on holidays in Melbourne:

“This is the second best wee I've ever had in my LIFE!”

From Jane Gregory, of Melbourne.
Two guys on the 86 tram on mothers day.

Guy1: Did you call your mum from that phone in the hall?
Guy2: Yeah, spoke to her this morning. You?
Guy1: Nah, my mum's in Phillip Island and you can't dial overseas from that phone.

Have you overheard some memorable conversation of late? Perhaps witnessed a member of the ‘peeps’ doing something comical or weird? Let Bev know at [email protected]. Include your home city or town.

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LAPTOPPING INANIMATE OBJECT BEREAVEMENTS NOTICES
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*****
DIED
*****
From Alysha Holder.

My converse all stars finally called it a day. (Today as a matter of fact). I had finally just gotten them to that perfect shoe stage where they were worn in enough to be comfy, and didn't make me look like a nutter because they weren't still blindingly white and clean. Anyway, I was trying on some new shoes in Myer and the sales assistants were giving my shoes dirty looks because they didn't approve of them or something. Or maybe it was me. I don't really know. But what I do know is that when I pulled them back on, this little rip that had been there for so long without harm, finally let loose and tore all the way along the heel making them sort of impossible to wear. I suppose my shoes were a little offended that I was buying new ones right in front of them.
*************************************
WE PRAY FOR THEIR RECALIBRATION
*************************************

Do you have an inanimate object that is ailing or has passed on? Let the
LapTopping community ease your suffering by emailing Bev with your home city or town:
[email protected]

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GET A WRIGGLE ON GOOGLET!

Several phrases people have typed into Google to land on my website lately:
(In the month of August ‘Sandra Sully nude’ was the third most popular phrase to find my site. I suppose by typing that I’m not really helping the problem.)

“turnip bum”
“im so crisp lyrics”
“kid ate raw bacon”
“what did ravishing rick rude say about big boss mans mother”
“camp quality giggle ball”
“best thickshakes in Melbourne”
“jatz biscuit cake”
“kiddie dinosaur myspace skin”
“how do i remove ribena from a white carpet”
“poems about surf lifesavers”
“funny wallaby pictures”
“how to write a first kiss in a short story”
“recipe for cheesymite scrolls”
“where can i get cruskits in Malaysia” (I promise I don’t make these up)
“suing your wedding mc”
“burnie hot girls”
“sleeping with someone because you are lonely”
“kamikaze pilot fake suicide folk song”

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TIME IS CHEESE AND MOUSE IS HUNGRY!

Dan Ilic (Ronnie Johns – I’m So Post Modern film clip) has made a great ad for GetUP! Australia which mocks the Howard Government’s current climate change propaganda. They raised $200, 000 in three days to air the film clip on Grand Final day.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=02fGSN7aPhQ

I’d like to include a quality ‘Internet joke’ courtesy of James Borman. (Note: From personal experience, I’d suggest that this joke is difficult to pull off when told out loud.)

A Polish immigrant went to the Motor Registry to apply for a driver's license.

First, of course, he had to take an eye sight test. The optician showed him a card with the letters:

'C Z W I X N O S T A C Z.'

"Can you read this?" the optician asked.

"Read it?" the Polish guy replied, "I know the guy."

Got a tip-off for some e-nuggets? Let us know: [email protected]

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A GIGGLE OF GIGS (The Happiest Boy Single Launch Tour. Coming to a state near you, providing you live in that state. (Sorry Brisbane and Perth uh…you’re just not in my budget right now, honestly, I think we can see each other soon. You too Darwin.)

* I’m performing a spoken word piece based on the song ‘All tomorrow’s parties’ for the Babble poetry night dedicated to the Velvet Underground’s ‘banana’ album. Bar Open. Wednesday October 3. 8pm.

* I’m supporting Peter Combe (Solo) at his Canberra, Sydney, Wollongong, Newcastle, Launceston and Hobart shows. Check local guides.

* Adelaide Single Launch. (Solo) Thursday October 25. Jive. 181 Hindley St. With The Beards (http://www.myspace.com/thebeardsclub) + Vorn Doolette (http://www.myspace.com/vorndoolette). $10. 8pm.

* Canberra Single Launch. (Solo) Thursday November 1. Toast. 219 London Cct, Civic. With Rafe (http://www.myspace.com/rafemorris). $10. 8pm.

* Hobart Single Launch. (Solo & All Ages) Saturday November 3. The Loft. 142 Liverpool St. With Sam Nicholson (http://www.myspace.com/samjnicholson). $10. 8pm.

* Sydney Single Launch. (Solo) Thursday November 8. The Factory Theatre. 105 Victoria Road, Enmore. With a premium line-up of Richard In Your Mind (http://www.myspace.com/richardinyourmind) + The Crooked Fiddle Band (http://www.myspace.com/thecrookedfiddleband). $12. 8pm.

* Melbourne Single Launch. (Band) Wednesday November 14. The Toff In The Town. 252 Swanston St. With Special Guests Mal Webb (http://www.myspace.com/malwebb1) + Josh Earl (http://www.myspace.com/joshearlisalibrarian). $10. 8pm.

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STORYTIME (Brought to you by Kevin 07. Proudly supporting Kevin Spacey’s run into the academy awards. He deserved more for ‘Across The Sea.’ C’mon!)

THE BEDROOM PHILOSOPHER’S RECENT GIG DIARY

September 28. Waiting For The Great Leap Forwards Fundraiser – a night of protest songs. Lithuania Club, North Melbourne.

I somewhat ambitiously took on ‘Like Spinning Plates’ by Radiohead, transposing Thom Yorke’s devastating live piano version on guitar. I said that while most protest songs are bold and confident, this is a kind of modern-day ‘lost’ protest song for people who don’t know what to do about Iraq. I wasn’t aware this was a political song until I saw them live (on YouTube…which is lucky, Radiohead are the kind of band who would cancel a YouTube concert – ouch.) Thom dedicates the song to political leaders who have sent troops into Iraq. I asked a lot from my falsetto and had vulnerability in spades. For my second song I did the oft-overlooked John Lennon song ‘Give me some truth’ from his classic ‘Imagine’ album. I asked my delightful lady-partner Anna on stage who was wearing a Yoko wig and glasses and spent the whole song knitting. (It was a vague tribute to the ‘Instant Karma!’ film clip – except we left out the sanitary napkin.) I remembered most of the words, except in the last verse where I blurted ‘I’ve had enough of schizophrenic, ego-centric, paranoi – just google the lyrics’ which earned a small round of applause. A brilliant night was marred by Scod Edgar and I wearing the same country style press-stud shirt. We really need to start calling each other before leaving the house.

September 23. Melba Spiegaltent, Northcote.

I am always a little nervous and bemused when there are elderly people and children in the crowd. Especially when opening with a song called ‘I Know What You’re All Thinking’ which includes the line ‘I wonder if I’ll go to this party tonight I think my ex might be there I’d better send a text.’ Somehow I felt my folk ‘mind reading’ was a little off the boil. During the long dramatic pause in Golden Gaytime I heard a kid say ‘is that it?’ To which I replied ‘no, sadly not.’ I decided to give away some prizes during the set, including a compact sports towel in a container. I noted that its a sad day when even though a girl got my question correct, she didn’t want to get out of her seat to claim the prize, so I had to slide it along the wooden floor. The other prize was a metal Volkswagen money box, which an old lady won by answering the question ‘how crap was that last joke?’ the answer was ‘very.’ Although later the judges conferred and deemed her answer to be a bit harsh. Afterwards, a very sweet and shy thirteen year old girl handed me a copy of my album she’d bought in HMV. I asked her name, and she stood in silence while I signed it.

September 15. Stagedoor Café, Burnie.

This was my second gig in three months in my hometown. The first one back in June was a blast, with a number of old high school pals cheering me on. Tonight I was surprised to see a booking of 24 people from the Savage River Social Club. Savage River can be best described by the long running high school joke which was to turn a light switch on and off rapidly while saying ‘Savage River disco.’ While they weren’t really there to see me, they paid light attention and didn’t talk too much. The other half of the room, including my dear Mum and her neighbour of thirty years were a gracious audience. There were a couple of young boys of about seven, who apparently before my set kept saying ‘when’s the comedian coming on?’ During the dramatic pause in Golden Gayime he turned to his Mum and said ‘this guy’s hilarious!’ Later, during The Happiest Boy, the kid and his Mum wandered past on their way to the bar. I stopped the song and said ‘hey, do you guys want to pause me like a DVD? I can wait till you get back so you don’t miss anything.’ They didn’t really hear me, so I faced the rest of the crowd in a strange two minute stand-off before the Mum returned and was shocked to find us all waiting. ‘I didn’t hear you,’ she said. Later, a bloke said my poster reminded him of Elliot Goblet.

September 13. Royal Oak Hotel, Launceston.

This was my first ever solo gig in Launceston, and Josh Earl came down especially to support, making it a joyous local affair. There was a great moment during I’m So Over Girls when I did my rant about ‘clumsy emotional hang ups’ and one bloke yelled out ‘yes!’ He later came up and said it had been a revelation to hear someone else make the observation, and that it rather awkwardly for him, applied to his partner who was with him at the time. After the gig, a great chap gave me a home-made T-shirt that read ‘Sometimes I don’t listen.’ He said he’d originally made it as an apology to his girlfriend. The Royal Oak treated us extremely well and put us up for the night. The concept of being at the pub and already home was a marvel.

September 14. Corporate Uni gig. Launceston Casino.

The next day I awoke, hungover on Boags Draught, and remembered I’d booked in to do a tour of the Boags Brewery. This was interesting. Outside, they had a giant water silo painted like a can of Boags that read ‘110, 000, 000mls.’ Novel! Having dabbled in home brew, I found the tour fascinating. At one point I accidentally leant over the railing and my glasses ended up inside a bottle of beer! (This did not happen.) The tour guide informed us that there are an esteemed board of directors who taste the beer every morning at 10am (this is when your taste receptors are most active), and I wondered whether other food and beverage companies have the same system. (Imagine hopping into some Stagg Chilli beef or Robitussin on a daily basis?) Later, we got onto the taste testing, where I fired up. I was most excited to discover the ‘latest single’ from Boags – ‘Wizard Smith’s Ale’ which is their go at a Little Creatures / James Squire style drop and most tasty. My pal Dion had call of the day when tasting the Boags Strongarm:
‘This is a Kurt Cobain. Bitter, with very little head.’
The tour guide informed us that there was an optional survey.
Me: I hope name’s multiple choice cos I’m smashed.’ (Me laughing)
Josh: You just cracked yourself up didn’t you?
Me: Yeah.

Later, Josh and I ended up in mainstream AM radio station 7LA. Someone who worked there had seen the gig and said we should go on their ‘local live’ type segment. I’m not sure if it was the hangover, but everyone in there seemed to be screaming at us. It started with the girl on the front desk, who knew us from high school.
Girl: (Probably joking) I had a crush on you in high school.
Me: (no idea what I’m saying) Well I’ll just go back in time and do something about it.
Girl: You’re semi-famous!
Me: Yeah, semi – like a trailer!

We pre-recorded our songs. After I came out of the booth another girl I knew from high school started screaming at us. ‘You’re still doing your little songs for Triple J, I hear them sometimes.’ We were then led into a studio where two young blokes spoke to us in normal tones, doing their best to understand who we were. The red light went on and the red bull kicked in and they started speaking at a ferocious pace. The interview seemed to go for seventeen seconds.
Them: So what are you up to?
Us: Uh. We’re from Burnie.
Them: So, you’re in Launceston.
Us: Yes.
Them: Thanks guys. Check em out on Myspace!

On the way to the Casino sound check (where we were driven by a pony-tailed taxi driver who said the line ‘I didn’t know Courtney Love was up the duff!’) we drove past the local R.S.L. Dion informed us that a Japanese restaurant had just opened up inside – sing about that Alanis! We arrived at the Casino for the ball. It was for the Uni of Tasmania’s education students. Still feeling a little shaky, and having been away from my girlfriend for over a month who was holidaying overseas, I possibly wasn’t in the ideal mood for two hundred raucous young things in satiny gowns. Before the gig there was an awards presentation. I was amazed to see how far raunch culture has come when they announced the ‘T.I.L.F.’ category. This stands for ‘Teacher I’d Like to…’ (y’know) which is an adaptation of the porn reference ‘M.I.L.F’ (Mother I’d Like to…’) Hmmm. On a bright note, Dion won for his year.

The gig was, dare I say it, bootylicious. Firstly, the back half of the room talked over the top. (People were frantically taking photos of each other. I reckon 80% of the noise was people trying to operate digital cameras.) Secondly, they started dancing during ‘What Am I Supposed To Be Doing?’ I was most amused and a little flattered. (After years of quips about how no-one dances during my gigs, I just wasn’t ready for the real thing.) After three seconds of I’m So Post Modern I realised that it didn’t have a beat and nobody cared so I slid into Megan The Vegan which seemed more conducive to the now quite full dance floor. I ended, kinda cruelly, with my acoustic mash-up of Hottest 100 songs, and took a little delight in watching the crowd trying to dance to a song with 30 different tempo changes.

Later, Josh and I tried to get into the James hotel where the after party was, but they wouldn’t accept our expired learners licenses.

My highlight of Launceston was trying to buy a spicy chicken wing thing from a takeaway shop and being offered salt. Dion said that a lot of shops in the area try and up sell you salt, and that one bloke had gone as far as saying ‘Salt – it’s food’s best friend!’

THE END

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LAYTOPING IS MISPELLED, AND FREE! WHAT A GREAT GIFT IDEA, AND IT’LL CUT YOUR ENERGY BILLS IN HALF! SEND IT TO A FRIEND!
To be added to this Ezine check out dev2.topfive.com.au/ and go to the LapTopping page. (The Last Time You Cried field is down temporarily.)

Last time someone cried: Ciaren – "The last time I tried to explain what ‘post modernism’ is to my footy coach.”

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NOTICE & DISCLAIMER:
This email, and the files transmitted with it, are going down in a blaze of glory and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed, or perhaps their mate Doug at a squeeze, but seriously mate, get your own email account, I’m bloody sick of sending faxes and I’ve got toner all over my fingers and a man can’t make a sandwich in his own home it’s just not right Doug! It’s just not RIGHT! If you are not the intended recipient, then you are probably Doug! Look, for the last time pal – if you buy tickets to the footy, you don’t photocopy them and throw em around like confetti? No? This blokes written an Ezine and he’s gone to a bit of trouble so the least you can do is sign up mate. I bet if they were offering free beer you’d subscribe to that quicker than I can say Ray Martin’s pyjamas! Yeah? Oh, they are? Get out. What’s the address? www.blogspot.com/whowantsacartonofpowersice It’s got to be a joke doesn’t it? What? Your mate’s a blogger and they’ve checked it out. C’mon Doug, who do you know who blogs – maybe your mate Mickey the plumber. Yeah, Pipes McGee, that’s what we call him at training. By the way are you still right to fix that panelling in the grandstand? Yeah just a few boards have come loose on the lower tier. Yeah few three inch screws should fix it. What’s that? You’ve had a few three inch screws in that grandstand I know mate. You old dog. Look, forget the blog mate, there’s no free beer. What’s that? If I look up gullible on Wikipedia there’s a picture of me? Good one mate, pull the other one. What? You’re serious. You posted it yourself. Where’d you get my photo. Scanned in my license? What? From the other night? I wondered where my wallet went. Mate you’re off your dial. You crazy tool. Hell. Anyway, stop reading over my shoulder. I can smell your lunch. You had that quiche didn’t you? Well I was saving it.
This email message has been humour scanned. Although no humour was detected, East Broome Senior Men’s Table Tennis Association accepts no liability for any consequential damage resulting from whipping you at ping pong. Capiche?
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DON’T FORGET –
“Fire in the ice, naked to the T-bone
Is a lover's disguise, banging on the head drum
Shaking like a mad bull, she's got the look”