Blues Challenge – pan!c – and makin’ whoopee!!

ARBA presents heat 1 of the 2018 Memphis Blues Challenge!

Semaphore Workers Club 93 the Esplanade Semaphore

This Friday, June the 15th 

Challengers are:

  • Keith Hall (solo)
  • Lost Romaldo Groove 
  • Ben Ford-Davies (solo)
  • The Valcos
  • Trav Collins (solo)
  • The Road Kings
  • Shades of Blue

Doors open 6.00pm –  Acts underway 7.00pm

$15 @ the Door – Pistol Pete’s BBQ available.


Pan!c attack!

Sunday, June 17 pan!c will do an ‘introductory’ set of tunes at the Firkin Fox.

Hang on… that should be the Fox and Firkin, I think. I always get that firkin mixed up. Pun comedy, eh? Up near St Agnes or somewhere like that. Look it up with Maps Apps.


And:

Sunday afternoon, June 24, Armageddon Outta Here will be encouraging the patrons of Fidel’s Bar bar to sing along while the world burns with “Whoopeee, we’re all going to die!”  –   a jolly old protest song singalong.

Come and join us;  bring you own tambourine and kazoo and something to die in.

There will be some interesting artists on the bill including the fabulous fantabulous Mr Explosion – Big Daddy Ian Mitchell. I think. He told me he was doing something there that afternoon and I guess I believed him.

Here’s the page for Fidel’s Bar, 66 Wattle Avenue, Royal Park:   Fidel’s Bar

hope that link works!!!!


The return of Sheerluck Fukken Holmes

Watson is sitting comfortably in front of the fire at 23B Baker Street reading a medical journal: Doctors and Nurses – Fun with Gutta-percha Gloves,  while Holmes, with his back to the good doctor, is silhouetted by the bluish glow of the Victorian all-leather fully-mechanical PC’s screen.  Holmes made soft harrumph! and spoke: 

“I say, Watson, my good fellow,  can you spare a minute away from that crackling hearth to give me a little benefit of your vast and varied career in medicine…? In particular, specific recollections from your time in ER services.

Watson smiled and cogitated:  “Dear old Holmes – he is always digging into dusty tomes and, lately, even into the very in the darkest corners of the Victorian steam powered Interweb, feverishly researching to glean insights into the human condition and the societal behaviours of Victorian London. “Certainly, Old Bean,” he replied.

“Watson,” said Holmes in a softly interrogatory manner,  “In your long illustrious career as a medical man – including your grinding late-night stints in Emergency, what would you say were the most unusual things you found jammed up a person’s arse?”

“I say, Holmes…” returned Watson with a chuckle…”That question takes me back a bit! I do recall seeing and having to remove many quite remarkable things that had been inserted into the rectums of various members of the many stratas of our society. What makes you ask, Old Boy…?” 

“Well, Watson this particular chappie who case study I am presently perusing presented himself at hospital with a wheelbarrow stuck up his arse.  He claims he was participating in Naked Gardener Day and slipped on a slug thereby falling onto the wheelbarrow which subsequently became stuck up his arse.”

“Holmes, as a man of the world I can say that there are many people who do not realise how dangerous a wheelbarrow can be if one is pulling turnips while naked in a garden full of slugs.”

“Yes, Watson, I’m sure it was an unfortunate accident, one that offered the ER surgeon many challenges as the wheelbarrow was full of bricks and lathered with vaseline at the time. However, my question is: has there been any such challenging cases presented to you while administering to the emergency rabble?

“Good Lord, Holmes….Yes! For example, there is one particular Australian chappie, quite high up in government I believe – makes a swag of money offshore – who has provided me with a steady stream of income for some time now; money that has enabled me to purchase and refurbish a luxury bathing hut at Brighton, i might add.”

“Please do your sums, then, Watson.” 

“Well, this fellow, a Mr Revolvingbull, first presented with his own head sick up his own arse!”

“Humph!,” snorted Holmes, “A simple extraction, I presume, but you took the opportunity to overcharge the snotty blighter…eh?”

“Indeed, not Holmes! Standard fee for the job! It’s just that as soon as I pull his head out of his arse… Mr Revolvingbull sticks it back up there and I have to do it allover again … and again!”

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