All right Channel Nine, I have an idea. Instead of merely showing a mawkish hour-long summery and a funeral book-ended by, shudder, Mike Monroe, how about actually delving into the archives and repeating one of his shows from time to time – even if you do so after midnight on a Sunday or something. I am, unfortunately, one of the people who was a couple of generations late, and so missed Graham Kennedy completely. From what I have seen, and from having to endure "Rove Live", I will say that his reputation seems justified – but I still want to see his shows.
While we're on the topic of local comedy, I feel the need to say that "Let Loose Live" was absolutely terrible. Even as a non-American substitute for "Saturday Night Live" it failed. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it was worse then "Skithouse", though I'm still undecided about whether it passed "Comedy Inc" on the way down (on second thoughts, no; nothing could sink that low). The best sketch show we've produced in a decade is probably "The Micallef P(r)ogram(me)", though his sitcom follow up, "Welcher And Welcher" was admittedly rather bad. Yes, as comedy goes, we're certainly in dire straits. But we're used to it by now. After all film and television in general are definitely the worse for wear.
And, as usual, all eyes are on me to save the day. I'm still waiting to here back from Channel Ten and ABC regarding my sketch show, and the AFC still refuses to fund my genre-defying masterpiece. On the writing side of things, no publisher wants to touch my 500 page stream-of-consciousness study of pretentiousness and narcissism as told through the eyes of a struggling artist, which will no doubt change the way we approach literature (and life in general). And the as of now nonexistent band, The Onions (a folk-art-rock-jazz-blues-classical-punk-post-punk-prog-vaudeville fusion band), haven't been signed.
Duck, Duck, Cockatiel
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The move is officially complete, though I'm still living with a few islands
of stuff—the main one located in what agents like to call the "meals area".
Rea...
7 years ago
7 comments:
Not necessarily. It was a vaguely satirical statement that wasn't specifically targeted at anyone. Or it was, who knows? Anyway, me and raw hatred go way back. He's still got my car alarm.
(The) Bicycle Repair Men seems to be the only name we have that hasn't already been used. Unfortunately short stuff hasn't exactly taken to it yet.
Actually, we came up with a tremendous name – though Anh Tu is yet to hear it: Young Men In Spats. It just happens to be the name of a Wodehouse short story collection that was ripe for plagiarising. I doubt he'll agree.
Excellent. We'll be marvelously quaint, then.
Again I'll say that those bastards The Hives beat us to the punch (it was spiked, anyway). And if I was to propose Wodehousian get-ups, Anh Tu wouldn't be able to wear his sailor suit.
And he wants the crotch cut out of his shorts so he can stick his masculinity through the modified sound-hole in his guitar.
I can't get anything passed you.
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