It's been a while, but then again I have been hiding in the cavities of certain diplomats to bring you this fast breaking news story.
I must say it's serendipitious (thats the word for covering your lovers rooty bits in Ice Magic and making them stand in the fridge so you can crack their rocks off) to read Dr. Le Skips well deserved skunking of the Begonia debacle.
Indeed it's good to see someone backing up and squeezing the anal glands hard at those motherfluffers.
The rumour is that somehow, somewhere the City council has actually managed to hire someone competent and fun to do the big Arts Officer job, (rather than another middle aged nitwit who thinks water colors of menopausal clowns are the ducks guts) and that there may be (drum roll please...) the chance of getting a proper festival in town.
Y'know.....a festival that has fun in it. That you look forward to. That lets new stuff hapen. That contains no Brian Adams.
A festival that makes the final few seconds of the National News just after the Weather (thats when you know you've made it in this country.....when some be-suited gonk says "rain and drizzle in Canberra...and now lets take a look at the Ballarat Festival where forty seven competitors had to swim through ice water, root a peguin and do three vodka luges in order to be crowed "Mr Hypothermia....." (fade to Summer Bay).
Yup. You heard it. A festival.
The question remains...how do we stop the Menzies frotting conseratives from giving it the icy dick of Satan?
Or letting Mr. Bus and his cardboard minimalism (or as we older types say "Fuckin boring horseshit") from hi-jacking the thing and using this fuckin "Tolerance" card to be piss poor and drag the whole thing down so Ballarat can hate itself again?
Is it possible in this town to say "We are just as mad as any other bastards. Our freak flag with be made of colored steam".(?)
Is it possible to get a festival up that shows those boring city doodles that no one here gives a shit about goast cheese ceramics and get Lydiard street covered in snow by one of those big snow blowing bastards?
Is it possoble to say "Shut up already with the cold. Put on another jumper and create a huge percussion sculpture that plays a tune when it pisses down on the locals?
Is it possible to have bands playing in the cold and (gasp!) you might have to dance (is that the word? I've only seen it in movies....) to keep warm?
Is it possible to have on street carveries of delectable roast meats and rivers of molten chocolate?
Is it possible to have a chilli fest in amongst it all so you have to roll around in the snow to stop your head from exploding?
Is it possible for the waring faction of ning nongs in this buggered burgh to set aside tribal differences and having a crack at defeating the larger threat of being bored fucking stupid?
But it's on the cards again.
Admittedly its a bit like a bunch of old soviets (sitting in the streets of Moscow with a McSomething, talking to the Ford dealership on the mobile about getting extended warrenties) suddenly geting teary about how much fun home made pickles were.
But they were good pickles, goddammit.
Damn fine pickles and when you dropped a few of those saucy gherkins down the cakehole and chased it through with some of Uncle Vlas's homemade thistle vodka, you did feel beter.
Even as you went blind for a while, (Uncle Vlas always loved the thinner in the mix. Cheap bastard...) and the pickle popped out a freshly burnt gullet hole, you realised what a good short film it would have made and realised no where else could a metaphor for a festival in my town be made but here.
And that's got to count for something.
Til next time
Mick "The worker's flag was in this box....shit...where it is?....hang on I'll ring her Maj..." Dog.