Monday, January 26, 2009

Australia Day in Ballarat: for we are girt by idiots

Livin' easy, lovin' free, season ticket, on a one-way ride.

Askin' nothin', leave me be, takin' everything in my stride.

Don't need reason, don't need rhyme;
Ain't nothing I'd rather do

Goin' down, party time,

My friends are gonna be there too

The B-Town groovers are back - here be our installment upon the national character on this most specially patriotic of days. The racist attacks on unwitting families of brown skin are up; the throaty roar of V8s ripping it up on Sturst Street and the distant explosions of illegal fireworks peppers the night air... it's Ballarat, and it's Straaaaaaaaaaaayan.

Upon opening the account for 2009, please let us welcome Ballarat stalled wart Floppy Cocksure to the microphone; a long devotee of Grainery Lane and handy back pocket for Sebastopol in his day, he brings an emotional sensititivity and rugged colon to the program, we hope you make him feel welcome.

For upon this Australia Day the Show With No Name delves in, roots around and rips out the very heart of what it is to be an Aussie in this pant shaking return to the Pod for this trusty band of adventurers. Listen as we hear of Australian of the Year Bert Feen, the match-up between a Muslim cleric and an alcohol company's promotional bear and marvel at the tales of the days of old: when young bright faced kids would get their teeth broken in for the war. It's nostalgic, it's patriotic, it's... the Show With No Name... putting bums on radio.

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