Show with No Name and Todd McKenney: revelations

It's true. All the rumours are true. Lenny reveals our part in the Todd McKenney media circus here:

More news at 11...

More reality than one show can handle

Hello Fans,

I'd just like to thank Bigguth Dicketh for their comments on Ballarat as the rootiest place on Earth (see comments on "This is where we Live").

As to changing the motto I think there are some fine suggestions.
Other mottos I'd considered were "Ballarat! Will root for piss!" or "Crack a Fat in Ballarat!" or "Buy me a drink and you can sink the pink".

Of course the next thing to do is to create a reality television program, filmed in several local locations, called "The Night Rider" where contestants are pitted against each other to pick up as many drunken hump bunnies as they can in a single night.
Points given for creative bonking locations, evading security cameras and not giving out their real names.
Points deducted for spewing (either party), poor coital performance and pregnancy.

In my opinion, if something as lame as "The Girls of the Playboy mansion" can cobble together half an hour of some blonde ninnies buying a Gonk doll in their hometown of Arsecrack, Montana (but failing to deliver the standard 8 boob shots or blandly filming Hef as he wanders around with his viagra drip calling everyone "Puffin Cakes" ), then a real time show where strapping young lads are given a $100 drink card and access to Australia's most up for it chicks should rate through the rooty roof!

Throw in a couple of piss weak street fights, a short scrag match over a taxi, cap it off with a clumsy crack at it at the Bus Stop and it has to be a hands down (yer pants) winner.
Who wouldn't want to watch some bloke on his third girdle getting a txt from the producers to say that his rival has just bagged his fourth muffin, then watching in thrilled anticipation the young fella talks his way past the bouncers, gets one more closing time Bacardi, masterfully grabbing the nearest ho-bo and her gravity challenged friend, in order to get in one last match winning double hump in before 3am closing and then submitting the saucy footage over a bacon style breakfast at the National Nine Network ? (although to be fair I think Seven is really gunna be the one to step up and see the dollars here).

Sure they'll be some nay-sayers. There always is.
But all we need to do is remind them that free wheeling sex and drugs kept everyone sane during the Goldrush and that Sovereign Hill really needs a 1850's brothel, with sheep skin franga's or syphilis lollypops for the kids if we are going to truly celebrate our heritage and move forwards with our heads held high (or hair held back).


All for now,

Mick "Minty dude fresher available soon!" Dog

This is where we live!

Hello Fans,

Just popping in to let everybody know the good news.
According to some chick I met in a Pub who reads Ralph magazine while she's at the dentist, (or some such) I can now confirm that it's become official.

Ballarat is now the easiest place in Australia (I'm saying all of Western Culture) to pick up.

Not the Town itself, (the buildings and surrounding land weighing many millions of tones and being a large logistical feat to move), but rather if you're suffering from the dreaded midnight horn and need some relief, then you're living in the Town where it's now quicker and simpler to find a drunken hussy than it is to pop a Panadol.

Now, I don't know about you, but having been born in this buggered burg and having flung my oats as every passing paddock, but this news bought a tear to my eye and I'm all choked up with civic pride.

I was sure Geelong would have held the title, what with the Grand Final final and everything, but there you go.
We, the Good citizens of Ballarat, are town of mythically easy roots.

What surprises me is the lack of coverage of what must be the town's greatest achievement since all those crazies staring digging up the joint and screaming for the right to get pissed at lunchtime (or whatever is was. I was behind the shelter shed having a squiz at a young ladies credentials when they were teaching all that guff. No regrets).

I'm also surprised that when Ballarat had a shot at being a Tropical Paradise (thanks to Global Warming's gentle tourist tantalising touch ) the beloved Courier trumpeted the possibility loudly and proudly.
And that was just pure conjecture! (as far as i know the aforementioned tropical haven may occur sometime in the next five hundred years, but whether or not the possibility that all of humanity will have all been eaten by some sort of huge irradiated space wombat and that might somehow curb the tourist revenue is yet to receive the same serious editorial consideration).

But now that our young lads and ladies have actually gone out and shown unsurpassed hospitality to visiting locals, regardless of the weather conditions, you would think our beloved Courier would confidently promote Ballarat as the Amsterdam of the South, a wondrous place where you can buy a slab and get your doobries fondled by the time you've knocked back the first sixer.
But no.....I'm putting it down to a quiet silence that bespeaks volumes of our accomodating character.

Now, to be fair, I'm not sure how this accolade was arrived at.
Although the writing staff at Ralph magazine are peerless journalists, like any media outlet, some scrutiny is required.
But let me say this......

If I'm caught in a tricky conversation as to whether or not it is possible to have a drunken three-some with coked out swimwear models and still come up for the perfect excuse as to why I can't show up on Monday to pitch my new advertisement for New Aussie Tampons (Get 'em up ya!), then Ralph is my first port of literary call and they are yet to lead me astray.
Tremendous fellows all.

So I'm quite sure the research crew where meticulous in their fact finding mission to find the Australia's Easiest Town.
Perhaps a well built young man walked into drinking establishments in various cities and yelled through a megaphone "The first young lady with legs akimbo wins a quickie and a coupla lines" and then a cohort (probably a sub editor of some sort) would hit a stop watch to time how long it took for some Gal to back up beeping.

I'd guess that in most other towns the Young Gentleman had to finish his amplified speech, perhaps even buy a drink or two, but rumour has it that when they were about to run the tests in Ballarat, a young lass (who'd worked her way through the Breezer rainbow and had been freshening up at the Hamburger Cart) approached the Ralph Rep and offered him the old Hong Kong Hammock as he was getting out of the car (apparently his ability to reverse park was the sexiest thing any male had ever said to her. )
There was no time for stop watches. Or flowery speeches. Just good old Goldtown spirit.

So. A quick be-fannying later and the record was ours.
Viva Ballarat! A place where where you can get your bits wet in minus ten seconds as long as you don't mind the car smelling mildly of dimmies.

Once again I'm swelling with pride (easy....).
I've long regarded this place as a kind of weird, free wheeling libertarian utopia, where love flows through the streets and we can all be as one. Where the Squares will just have to dig it coz we got a Great Big Convoy chugging back the fine liquors and thrusting their reproductive organs at anything that can stand upright or at least fall over in a co-operative manner.

And now that a reputable bunch of loveable larrikins like Ralph have officially given us the nod all I can say is Ladies, I owe you a beer.

That's all for now,

Mick "The pre-mix King for Mayor!" Dog

Finally, some Olympic humour

At last - while Todd McKenny provides us with a whole new level of celebrity drug misadventure and ensuing wrangling via media, over at the BBC they've broken the best story so far of the Olympic torch/Free Tibet competition:

Police in southern China have discovered a factory manufacturing Free Tibet flags, media reports say. The factory in Guangdong had been completing overseas orders for the flag of the Tibetan government-in-exile.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner...

Otherwise, tonight's music will clean up the remaining taste of oatmeal from the 2020 conference, as well as some uptempo toe-tappers I've been ripping from hither and yon in the interwebs. Haven't seen the Courier today - the source of the most of the amusing material we tend to churn through on air. Although some songs for Todd do come to mind:

Drug Me - Dead Kennedies/Sepultura

Cocaine Decisions - Frank Zappa

Drug Sex - Machine Gun Fellatio

I Want the Drugs - The Supersuckers

Sling It, Bang It, Give it Cabfare Home - Andrez Williams

And Lenny says he's managed to get the taser and smokebombs for tonight's Chaser gig at the dearly named Her Vaj on Lydiard Street.... If he can manage walk natural through the high security Dirty Frank Callahan-style door arrangement, 'sgonna be a hoot.

And I think our man The Hack who has replied to the quest for an flamin' Australian fashion and music statement at the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics may just get its own bracket of tunes...

Australian World Series Protest a Fizzer - Touring teams only

You'd have thunk the worldwide return (and return to Channel Ten) of a bunch of big brawny goons of either sex going at it with big rubber Monkey Sticks would have inspired something a bit more colourful and athletic - sadly the Australian stage of Olympic World Series Protest turned out to a match between two touring teams, with the home team off doing something else... (maybe all caught up on the reading from the 2020 conference)

World Series Protest Australia began in such nice fashion... By 4pm that day the only videos on Google Video were from Central China TV - saying it was all very orderly and pleasant.
Over at the Daily Telegraph, Garry Linnell's video report (watch it, it's good on the spot stuff) and the accompanying text painted a different picture... The Abe (excusee.. Ballarat term for the dear old Aunty Broadcasting Corp) in Canberra gave it a good nudge too, getting amongst it down on the front line for a good understanding of the vibe amongst the team members on either side.

The Away teams kicking off, rather than any real Home side representation meant very little further media discussion about it but also, as Mick so eruditely put it, no-one's used the Torch in a method that gives a bit of a singe to the contestants as they make their dash through the security cordon to help give the coverage more of a positive spin. Still, what a special sight to see all those Chinese flags waving in Canberra - jeez, can't see any insane redneck backlash coming there... where's Alan Jones when you need a good race riot?

And today the torch made a triumphant unimpeded tour through North Korea - a place where they really know how to put on a secure, heavily armed and Non-Attendance Fatal invitation to the public to come along and be supportive of the deal. You can see those Aussie Olympic patriots all quietly agreeing now that's how you organise a parade... where to next? I believe we're headed south to Vietnam, Taiwan (oops! cancelled!) then after a very exciting dash through Hong Kong it gets to light young James Packer's cigar in Macau before the glorious march through the Himalayas...

We need some rock and roll salvation - Midnight Oil got to wear the Sorry tracksuit - what outfit could we get for an Aussie band to play at the opening ceremony, do you think? We'll be pondering that and more questions in tomorrow night's Show... and answering the emails (none) and enquiries about what's happened to the show for the last fortnight (two).

Early reports on Australian Olympic World Series Protest

So far, it's looking exciting - Mel and Kochie doing their best impression of a one-party state media morning show, choosing to just highlight the happy stuff; reports of a protestor doing their own impression of the famed 1980s move by Dermie Brereton, bravely bursting through the other team's huddle; we'll have more reports as the day wears on - but first, here's the initial forecasts on the Australian Olympic Torch leg by our regular Show commentators Lenny and the Mick Dog:

World Series Protest: Australian edition

As we predicted, it is time.

Ladies and gentlemen we are under starter's orders. We have Chinese security who are determined to form a human ring around the torch. We have every remaining Kombi from the North Coast and patchouli-powered Corolla from North Shore Sydney along with every Private School Marxist from Melbourne gathered in the nation's capital. We've got a feisty Federal Police force determined not to have the Chaser make them look like dickheads. We've got roughly 10,000 Chinese members of Amway loose somewhere north of the Murray.

Ladies and gentlemen, suddenly we have some of those online rapscallions at Crikey even telling people to get into it:

China’s Foreign Ministry have warned against protests in Canberra because the torch "belongs to the whole world". That the corrupt thugs who run China (latest
effort – dispatching a boatload of weapons to fellow despot Bob Mugabe) object to expressions of dissent even in other countries is no surprise. But let’s get over this fetishisation of the Olympics.

Year after year the same faces, the Kevin Gospers and John Coateses who are apparently on the Olympics gravy train for life, stand up to declare that it’s all about the sport, or world peace, or the youth of the world. In fact it’s a giant media event designed to generate massive revenue which, this time around, is being employed to promote one of the world’s most brutal regimes.
And you can see where these sports administrators come from.

Just about every athlete or sports person parrots the same lines about sport having nothing to do with politics or, for that matter, morality, as if sports – professional, international sport, in all its cash-generating glory – is somehow a priori disconnected from basic ethics and standards of
civilized behaviour.

For those planning to have a crack at disrupting the relay, or who just want to marvel at some wonderful security overkill, the event kicks off at 8.30am tomorrow morning.

Whoah, go Crikey! Somehow we don't reckon your mob are the kind to get out of bed early and loft a water balloon - but the sentiment's there. It's time we turned the Olympic Torch relay into something meaningful - and World Series Protest can begin with us here in Australia.

If Tintin and his crew manage to continue their shiny new Post-Hawkie/Labor Intellectual Love party, we're doomed to life without one last mass punch-on between bogans with slogans and gym-toned burly blokes whipped into a frenzy by the nation's tabloid press, radio and tv, and frankly, after 11 years of the Evil Bastards and the 2007-style Grand Final finish to the election, we deserve better than that.

It's going to be a kick-on, and I just know Australia's going to show the world how it's done.