Burnie - The 2007 Wangle Experience

I found this old blog entry lurking on myspace. I had a chuckle so I thought I'd republish here. It tells the tale of my old musical comedy outfit, Wangle, and our ill-fated 2007 trip to Burnie. Enjoy...

Prologue
"Missy Faggots" quirped Dan from the back seat of Mike Kerr's tarago.

Chapter 1 - Hobart to Burnie
It was a day that was written into calendars all over the globe; except of course for Andorra, they refuse to acknowledge Wednesdays, but it was a Wednesday unlike any other. It was Wednesday the 18th of April 2007. A day never to be repeated. Only through time travel could a mortal repeat this day; and even then - like reheated hot chips; it just wouldn't be quite right. Wangle and a smattering of Hobart's most questionably loved comedians headed towards Burnie for what would be a gig. A gig where we aimed to provide some form of entertainment. Entertainment that stretched even the most liberal definition of the word 'entertainment.' May I quote from the Socialist Alliance Dictionary 1999 2nd edition:

Entertainment "Ehn-Tehr-Tahyn-Mentos" adj. - 'Anything resembling an act or performance, no matter how diabolical; no matter how much it looks like a high school band dicking about with songs they clearly don't know.'

Plog, Logan, Dan and myself crammed into Mike Kerr's Tarago and started the journey North. Mike behind the wheel, Dan behind Mike and Tim behind Dan. Plog and I giggled like schoolchildren as the homosexual acts took place around us. The giggling didn't end there; after much tickling, I managed to crank out a few golden private jokes into general conversation. They were private jokes I shared with Hitler, and the giggling came from Mike, whose feet were being harrassed by Tim and a feather.

Shenanigans aside, the drive to Burnie proved to be Wangle's only rehearsal before the gig. By rehearsal we mean writing a setlist and demanding Plog know all the songs he had never heard. This didn't concern Plog, who continued his fine form of road trips and falling asleep. We drew a cock and balls on his cock and balls; the irony being lost on Plogger as the only device to we could find to draw on him was a blunt scalpel; stolen from an AIDS clinic in Uganda, 15 years ago, in a vat of sulphuric acid.

After a brief stop and amputation at Latrobe hospital, The Platypus Hospital of the World, we continued the Drive. The song by REM. By now the sun was setting, the store owners locking their premises and Dan was starting his nightly transformaiton into Dantaizor, the evil bloodsucking manatee. The mood turned sombre, as he killed a small child, raped someone and told a story of a local business having to shut down because of globalisation.

But things weren't all Doom and Gloom, as well as Doom, Plog had brought Quake 2 and 3 and a handheld version of Duke Nukem 3d; to which the volume was turned down when Logan wisely played November Rain from one of his epic mixed cd's. I'd be lying if I said the solo came on just as we entered Burnie, I think we were about 5 miles past Elizabeth Town; or 5 miles up Van Morey Road, you bastard. Still, Burnie greeted us with its usual mix of seaside charm and inbred fervour and it wasn't long before we were in our motel rooms, trying to pick up filthy whores off the street.

Chapter 2 - The Gig
The Stage Door Cafe in Burnie is hard to explain. The song by The Strokes. Imagine a cafe, with a stage. Then imagine someone that you are really attracted to, naked. It makes for a far better thought process no matter what the problem; try it at your next conference, holiday, or even at home, it packs away easily under the bed for easy storage, and is only 7 mildly annoying payments of $137.65. Payable by cash. Exact change required.

At the venue (not the venue at Salamanca, just the plain noun use of the venue, I would have capitalised it otherwise) we met with fellow comedians, John 'Cambo' Campbell, Andrew 'Daws' Dawson and Ted 'Tranny' Wilson. They got the crowd going along with MC Logan, who performed his highly popular mix of 'Put Your Hands up For Detroit.' However, truely the highlight, as always, was captain of all that is droll, Mike Kerr; who lampooned the crowd like whales, that were being harpooned. Mike by majority had a new routine, the exception being his gag about the snake catcher. But shockingly to his fans; the catchphrase '5 miles up Van Morey Road, you bastard' had been changed to '8 miles up Van Morey Road, you bastard.' It must have tripped Wangle, because we were fucking dreadful.

Imagine Pete Doherty, Axl Rose, the lead singer from the Vines and a conservative priest getting on stage together, unrehearsed to perform a gig of songs they didn't know; and then imagine the stage was on train tracks, and two trains collided on these said tracks, thereby creating a train wreck of sorts. Well then you have a watered down version of how we went. My god. Thank god the crowd only consisted of Dan's friends and relatives, and Rowan Dix.

Chapter 3 - The Afterparty
The comedy troupe was joined by Rowan, Mylo, Dallo and Hughesy, plus two absolute slappers that Daws and Cambo disappointingly did not publically enter relations with. We settled down at the Top of the Town gaming venue and bar; only Mike could truely settle, being the only man alive when the last renovation was done on the place. Still, they did have a Who Wants to be a Millionaire arcade game, with the chance to win $80. After perhaps finishing 2 dollars up we bidded the boys and God farewell and retired to our bedrooms, without a hint of superannuation.
But it wasn't all lights out end of story. Plog continued our witty, sharing the same bedroom, pretending to wank fanfare. Although a little stressed, as Dan was sharing a double bed with Plog, Dan joined in, even putting a new spin on the orgasm sound. More of a 'mmmmmmm' that tasted good kind of noise. If only we were better blokes or more mature. But alas. We really aren't.

Chapter 4 - The Drive Home
An 8:15 wake up call from Tim Logan was nothing unusual. He has been employed as Wangle's alarm clock for many years; although a clause in his contract, enables us to demand him do it naked, covered in ants; whilst singing 'Listen to the Music' by the Doobie Brothers. This morning however, no such demands were made, except for large quantities of orange juice; which were met at the Burnie McDonalds, Mike also met a nice girl there, whom he confused with a slighlty witty joke; the girl clearly only used to the comedy of such greats as Rove McManus, David Koch and Daryl Somers.

After a quenching drink and a burnt mcmuffin, we headed south. Dan fell asleep, Mike fell unconscious; but somewhat luckily, Tim had invented and installed a third leg made completely from paperclips and the lids of our orange juices, with which he managed to completely control the tarago with. Plog eventually stopped smashing Mike over the head with a sauceapn, Mike awoke, and after a brief stop at the Latrobe Hospital, The Platypus Hospital of the World, he drove again. He was looking pretty good.

Dan farted a couple of times after the stop in Campbell Town. It was unpleasant. Especially for the superhero 'Antifartman' who was hitchhiking with us at the time to Oatlands. His powers were nullified, and his untimely suicide was a sombering moment for all. Again, we played November Rain in his memory; as it was possibly his favourite song, being the best song of all time and all. He was only the size of an infant. And Mike's eulogy of 'I've got your embalming fluid right here, baby' was moving to say the very least. Especially as we were driving at the time and moving quite fast.

As we drove into Hobart, it occured to me, I live here. And I did. And still do. Its remarkable how a trip away can put your life in such clear perspective. Its also remarkable how a trip away ends with Plog dressed in clear perspex. Alas, he has a tiny, tiny penis.

Prologue
Not clever, offensive and not all that funny, are three words some critics use to describe Wangle. However, on the Burnie '07 Road Trip it will forever apply to Dan's call of 'Missy Higgins, Missy Faggots.' Abhorrent