Show With no Name: Ballarat's shiny glitter turd ball

There's nothing greater than having your elected representatives spark off a philsophical debate; tjere's nothing warmer than that feeling of engaging with the bigger questions in life other than How Did A Bunch Of Rich Guys With Rat Cunning End Up Getting Greedy and Criminal - so when a Ballarat councillor who's resigned saying this is the worst council in history ends up on the front page saying the report showing how Mayor Quimby carved up Springfield and earned a few dollars off the monorail will get spun but you can't polish a turd...

Well that's when Mick and Lenny spring into action. Local history is their specialty. The Legend of the Giant Jesus-Shaped Glittering Turd Ball of Sturt Street and Steven Hawking's role in analysing the role of Ballarat's local councillors in the actual operation of a city council responsible for millions of dollars' worth of stuff for the ever-lovin rate-payin' descendants of Eureka... well, that's how we finish part 01 of this week's edition, anyway:




Also, here Len give an insight into what it's like having a man from Religion visit your house and promise you a life free from pain (and later on remembering when people would play the gorilla bones for the Pope); along with an investigation of car trouble under the current petrol scheme - in particular the fine art of hitch-hiking at Bathurst and getting Skaifey to pick you up on Conrod Straight.

And a big part two
Oh yes. It Just Keeps On Coming. Take a deep breath and wade amongst it as Lenny ponders the fashions of the 90s and an age when the shirts would go out and have a better time than he.




Of course, television news. Pork-Zan the Jungle Man and a long line of surrealistic euphemisms; the links with Sting, Jaimie Oliver and the horrible Obese Ear Syndrome, bringing in the Only Leans Beats diet craze; AC/DC performing on the back of Billy Connolly at Ayres Rock* in the long awaited new Denim Tampon tour; Martha Reeves projected on the back of Robin Wiilliams at the MCG; Prince playing North Techh and Lenny's admission of the Boot.

*A Pam Ayres limerick festival at Colac. No relation to Uluru, a sacred Australian landmark.

Show With No Name - October 7 crash edition podcast

Yeah and verily did the latest chunks of cooked audio come squelching out of Ballarat; hear now as we swing in to the dark days of What The Fuck and Everything's Changed again. Stock markets be buggered - what about that poor bloke in Geelong who got the tattoo for Premiers 2008?
OK, what about the fuckoff cyclone about to bear down on the other side of Mexico - (the other side from the major gathering of whitefolk in Texas, New Orleans etc, it's not news...)

So, the show. Lenny on ace of spades. Mick Dog on bums. Vinnie on buttons and DB on the tin lid. The Show With No Name throttled out of the Clunes O'Brien Memorial studios just before the shit went down on Wall Street and beamed it around Western Victoria (or as far as Mr Poon's shop, we're not sure) and it sounded like this:



Consider the American election as only some miscellaneous fellas from a room somewhere on a hill in Ballarat could: as a Looney Tunes production of mammoth proportions entwining Bruce Springsteen, Diana Ross, My Ding a Ling and that moment in rock few have spoken about: the Obama-lama with Clarence Clemmons.
Music news: Robery Hairy Palmer's comeback foiled by a random beating of the Skaggs brothers by Rastafarian sausages; our favourite World War 2 Greek pastry films and Westerns, such as the Magnificent Souvlaki; and the perennial ecceliastical cryptic crossword clue develops into a discussion of Popes in catalogues and the good old days, when Jesus would run out onto the ground at the MCG and take his place at full forward... Ahh. Kevin Bartlett. What a bloke.

And part 2 of this week's radio squirt:

The second part of the second week of October, when the TV guide beckoned and all that was found was the Ballarat Steak House bringing out a film, following the huge success of their ad*. Eric Bana in a Gold Rush alligator romantic restaurant comedy. And the horror of an ad found in the Courier. Nevermind Henson in the primary school, what about the Search for a Super Moodel, where slutty cows were made to do not normal things before the shooting and Supertramp. And then it gets weird.



Then, the economic hard talk - the battle against daylight saving - who is pocketing the difference? Is this where the world's finances have gone wrong? And finally - Ballarat teenagers again forced onto cultural slavery, doning their strange panted costumes and press-ganged into a performance of Bolshoi, Bolshoi, Bolshoi - seen by all as complete and utter bolshoi.

As for music? Somehow, the Circle Jerks off the Repo Man soundtrack are getting dusted off.

in a sluggish economy
inflation, recession
hits the land of the free
standing in unemployment lines
blame the government for hard time

we just get by
however we can
we all gotta duck
when the shit hits the fan

Ah yes. Leading one to knock out Fugazi's Merchandise quite a bit more again these days. Bless the punks and the hardcore, for they truly did keep the faith...

When we have nothing left to give
There'll be no reason for us to live
But when we have nothing left to lose
You will have nothing left to use

We owe you nothing
You have no control
x2

Anyhoo - thanks to everyone who tuned in via the ancient signal transmitter nailed to Warrenheip from 6 till 8 Tuesdays, 99.9FM!

*You can actually hear the screams from outside people's houses when this comes on.

Show With No Name podcast September turns October

You can download the podcast of part o1 of the Show With No Name or what the hell, listen to it here, who cares what the people in the office think...

The Show With No Name versus Malcolm Turnbull, vein by braille, colour orange juice and all-night telly, bird fight in Federal Parliament, the Kank Wolverang box set, Desd Parkinson the People's Illusionist and more...



And there's the download and RSS for part two - Dessy Rae Spainchter and the moving of Smeaton; the origins of the word bivouac, the blues had a baby and they called it rock and roll - and then went to a picnic with jazz and funk; the new PornStation2, having your virtual face torn off with a tiger before dinner; finding the rim of a Commodore buried where your mail box was supposed to be.

Kick back and kank the volume on the lappie, G...



This is how it sounded booming out of the remains of the BBB public radio transmitter in Ballarat, folks... honest. If you're driving down the Western Highway after 6 on Tuesday nights, tune to 99.9FM and pray they're out there...