Posts Tagged ‘Countdown’


Wednesday, March 12th, 2014

This weekend saw me and my friends being granted an audience with the supreme Filth Elder John Waters.

Casing the venue before the show (I would never use the word ‘Stalking’, it’s far too common, and has been misappropriated in recent times beyond the original romantic, passionate meaning, but if we are stalkers, then we’re more ‘Stalk’ than ‘er’s’).

My filth sisters Miss Tyson, Tony, Leon and myself found a discreet back passage very near the stage door, with an elevator that took us strait to the theatre entrance and to our seats, this would be perfect for getting us to the stage door after the show, well before the slew of under prepared amateurs flailingly figured out where to go.

Once the show was finished, and before the house lights had fully come up, I’d grabbed Tyson (who was acting as my assistant, photographer and purse carrier for the evening) and made haste for the exit and elevator. In moves more graceful and perfectly choreographed than Swan Lake itself, our pre planning paid off, and within seconds Tyson and i found ourselves at the stage door, front and centre, with not another soul in sight.

Before long a rag tag group of the underprivileged, criminally insane, non-natural fibre wearing, moperer prone, borderline unstable people joined us.

The glam, fey, stage door manager glided outside to the waiting crowd and announced loudly (tho haltingly) ‘Mr Waters is partying downstairs, getting pissed, will be a few hours, and probably won’t be leaving from the stage door!’

Amazingly, most everyone shrugged, picked up their bags and left!, What is WRONG with people!?, here we have a perfect manifestation of all that ails the world today, people are too gullible, too resigned, unwilling to question, too ‘meh’ with very little passion or dedication. Alas, alas Gregory, shut thy mouth, lest you get more of a reputation as a bitter old Queen, which apparently anyone elevating themselves to a level nearing passion and concern is now labeled.

Myself and about ten others decided to stick around and see how this would play out, I’m old school, it takes more than the wiley gabbling of a paid celebrity buffer to trick me.

Meanwhile as this dividing of the masses was taking place, Academy Award winning actor Geoffrey Rush was flitting in, out and around us devotee’s of Mr Waters, too cool to stop and hang, too curious to leave our vigil.

About twenty minutes later the stage door manager shimmied out to the waiting masses, which by now was down to a manageable fourteen people. He done a quick head count, then leant in towards myself and the moppet standing next to me and said ‘Okay, give me five minutes’, giving us a look and smile, that I’m sure in many circumstances over the years involving him has meant, ‘Okay, I’m not that mean, I’ll give you what you want in just a minute’.

True to his inference, about five minutes later the stage manager brought John out to the appreciative followers of filth. Being a fan himself of many people, John knew how to organize the small group so everyone got what they wanted, be it an autograph, a chat, a photo or to give him gifts.

A few things were quirky to note, John politely declined being given hugs due to his full travel and show schedule, and didn’t want to risk being exposed to any Jimmy Germs.

If you really want to make John recoil, hand him a silver autograph pen, both days I saw him he was offered one of these pens to sign a photo, he jumped back both times saying ‘Check it first!, they leak and cover your hands in silver paint!’, it should be noted that John exclusively wears Comme Des Garcon, I sure wouldn’t want to be dressed in that, and have an over excited fan fumble toward your jacket with a leaky Texta.

My turn came and John asked me what I would like, firstly I wanted to have a nice photo taken, which he was very obliging and happy to do.

I mentioned I’d hoped he would have had more of Edie in his show, he slapped my shoulder and said ‘Oh honey, she’s been gone twenty five years!’, then it dawned on him what I’d meant ‘OH!, you mean more about her!, Hahahahaha’.

Then, in a very private, and secret ceremony, leaning on the balcony railing to steady myself, I was reaffirmed a Filth Elder by John Waters, the supreme Filth Elder himself.

It was put in writing in John’s own hand, scribed on a scratch and sniff card from ‘Polyester’, in a happy coincidence I do believe my name traverses the scratch and sniff number for a bowel movement.

The crowd around us were hushed, and I believe they knew, to paraphrase the quote from John and Yoko’s ‘Two Virgins’ album “When two great Filth Elders meet, it is a humbling experience”.

I say to all reading this, henceforth when greeting me it would be only correct and proper manners to curtsy deeply, and greet me with ‘Hello filth elder Greg’,

If I so deem fit to engage you in further conversation, it is then acceptable to address me as ‘Greg’, there is no need to continue the formality after the initial greeting.

I’d like to be known as ‘The peoples Filth Elder’.


Saturday, March 8th, 2014

Happy Women’s day to all the females in my life. I’m in awe of each and every one of you, tho society, inbuilt tradition and influence has sometimes made it hard for me to always get it right, and acknowledge the dept of gratitude and equality towards you, I am trying, and I hope to always keep learning and growing from you, and about you.

From my Mama who pulled a literal miracle out of the hat to have me, my sisters who mother me, my nieces who sisters me, my sister in law who takes the ‘in law’ out of sister in law, the lady over the road who befriended me as a child and taught me about art, the little five year old girls I went to school with who hung out with me (and are still hanging out with me) and enabled me in my theory that laughter was far more important than times tables (still don’t know anything other than my nine times table, which my sister in law drummed into me), the girls I hung around with down at the surf club who would take ‘no’ shit, and demanded to be treated as equals, even in the face dumb ass, insecure teenage boy mentality, the Lesbians who took me under their wing when I came out, and helped steady and guide me on my journey, a former mother in law who showed me that love and family can be adopted, and most every other woman who has befriended me and crossed my path.

Sometimes for a guy it can be a bit daunting, especially when your heart is in the right place, and you’re trying to ‘get it right’. I am constantly paralyzed with social phobia when I go to discuss women, is it PC to say ‘Girls’, ‘Ladies’, ‘Women’, ‘Wimin’, ‘Woman’, ‘Females’?????, Gah!!!!, it’s like my grammar phobia, no matter the advice I’ll never be not stricken, so now I just Preface everyone with ‘Miss’, male or female, I feel Tiny Tim got it right, you’ll just have to deal with it :-)

Some things I won’t apologize for, I like ladies who wear white gloves, I love a well made hat, and I’ll ‘never’ apologize for opening a door for a lady, it does not mean I think you’re too weak to open a door, it means I bow to you in awed deference. For me some things are best left in a state of blissful confusion, I’ll never understand the ‘lady garden’ stuff, just so long as everything is healthy and working I’m happy for you, any more information and my hands begin to uncontrollably flap.

The more time passes and the older I get, the more in awe I become. We all take so much for granted, but when one stops and pauses (as we do on these special days) sometimes we realize “Oh my goodness!!!, my mum was a fitter and turner working at the Steelworks when she was fourteen!!!???”

Just because my Mama used to do my washing for me didn’t mean it was because she was a woman and it was her job, it was because she made my undies smell like sunshine. Now, the best I can do is to get them smelling like an average sunrise.

For all that I’m in awe.

x x


Friday, March 7th, 2014

A flicker of hope in one suffering depression can sometimes be the smallest of things, like finding a small functional pocket of creativity. It helps to have a muse as inspirational, epic and legendary such as one Ms Joylene Thornbird Hairmouth.

In my filth dreams, in the coal dark blackness of night, a gang of art terrorists decend with blow torches blazing upon the dog sitting on the tucker box, melting it into a white hot puddle of molten steel.

Swiftly erected in its place by the ‘Artorrists’ will be a two hundred metre high bronze statue of Joylene, the greatest Australian woman ever to draw breath (and mascara), Joylene being at least a cats whisker in standing above Margaret Whitlam and Barbie Rogers.

Begone sad old dog sitting on a tucker box, your time is past as Australias centre for artistic randomness. Behold the first of my humble tributes to the inspiring Joylene.


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Thursday, May 24th, 2012


Wednesday, December 28th, 2011


Friday, December 23rd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Thursday, December 22nd, 2011


Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

Recently ‘RAGE’ played some old episodes of Countdown, and i was cock o’ hoop to see that they played ‘Product of your mind’ by ‘Jimmy and the boys’, if for no other reason than it features Joylene Hairmouth’s greatest ever filmed performance.

This is the Citizen Kane of Joylene, a veritable Hairmouth cinema verite.

I love this clip soooo fucking much, Joylene is treating the keyboard with such contemp, but it’s trained contemp, she’s going at it like Shirley in the Partridge family, after Ruben Kinkade accidently drugged her, instead of Danny.

Think Marta Hari from Lancelot Linc’s Evolution Revolution .. that style of playing, where the hands look like they are frantically trying to fan someone back into conciousness after a bad, or really good pill.

We all know what was done to those poor bastard monkey’s to get them ramped up and hopping about, simian electro play was the order of the day, and Joylene looks, and performs in this clip like she’s had a car battery freshly clipped to her nipples.

To this very day, each time i enter the Opera House’s grand hall i have a knot in my stomach, knowing that Dame Joan Sutherland and Olivia Newton John opened that place, when all along the first person on the stage should have been the real La Stupenda Joylene.

Let me tell you, i bet Joylene would have had a better camel toe than Olivia did in her black lycra pants in Grease (another starring roll Joylene was jyped out of).

I do my bit, every morning i lay a fresh lilly before the framed photo i have in my lounge room, that was taken last year of Joylene, myself and my filthy bitch bestie ‘Beryl’.

Both Beryl and i agree that besides the night we came across a leather clad, and Rose free Willie Porteous at Sleaze ball, in the downstairs shitters in the Hordern Pavillion, our evening with Joylene was the pinacle of our very existence.

Below are some screen captures i took from the clip. I’ve posted some before, but they were from a lame ass Youtube clip, these are better quality, and it’s all about preserving art in the best possible quality .. and taste.