Boss Of Everything

Janyooairy

Posted on January 30th, 2010 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Hullo lovers of all things, Janyooairy! ‘010 already eh? Hell, we’re 1/12th of the way through it! Conan’s been reamed by Leno. Haiti fall down go BOOOOOOM and I’ve washed the floorboards with the steam mop at least once. That’s Janyooairy for ya. A mixed bag if ever I’ve had one (and we ALL know, I’ve had ‘one’). Ok two. (the colostomy doesn’t count. How could it?!) Ok, nine times, tops. Get off my back!

Lessee… Oh, in December I did this, with my best friend. A Christianful Nativity… Itchy Style.

NOTHING giggles up my goat’s coat more than doing that with her. Damn, she’s fun! Deranged, obvs, but Eff Yoo En. A belated thanks to Toby Jean and Nooly Thomas (holy crap, that’s the cutest pic ever!) for allowing us to muck up their stage. And a bigger thanks to industrial bean bag zips in taffeta frocks for not giving way. I think we’ll do it again. Sometime this year. A bit of a show. Might be here in my bathroom (which is having the shit renovated out of it, thanksforarksking) or could be in a wee venue somewhere with moisture proof seats. Stand by for more news in that area. Actually, you might wanna take a seat. Or yes, wander off. It’s your call.

If I’ve said it once it’s cause I had an audience who loved and approved of me. Miss Itchy is the most fun you can have with your best friend and 8 metres of stained haberdashery. Mark. My. Words.

Speaking of mad women with paint brushes, Haggar’s been knocking up some bloody lovely ahhhhrt of late. For those of you who don’t know, one of her paintings was chosen to be the cover of the Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission Report (banner at top of page a SMALL sample of Hagg’s work). She’s been heavily involved with the Arts Alliance up in Kinglake, submitting gorgeous works for exhibition and sale. I fell in love with another one of her big pieces (oooh weh, Vicar) and she graciously sold it to me for a pittance, a pittance I tells ya! Now, all I need to do is wait for her to fall off her twig, penniless and missing one ear then I’m going on an auction frenzy, baby! I’m sittin on Blue Poles or The Portrait of Dr Gachet here, I tells ya!

In all seriousness, she’s good. She’s really proper good. Yes, she’s always been good, but man, this is a whole other level of accomplishment. (Do you get that she’s good at drawin n that? Have I painted the appropriate – word pickshar? Good! heh ) She’ll have her website up soon and you’ll be able to see some of her work. She doesn’t even colour outside the lines hardly ever, any more. Tops.

–~~–~~–~~–~~–~~–~~–~~–~~

In other Melbourne-centric news. This last week we lost, well no, we didn’t LOSE Dave. Cancer, shitty bloody pancreatic cancer came and got Dave and buggered off with him. No one here was finished with him. No one. Not his loving partner, Karen. His gorgeous babies, Spencer, Madeleine and Marieke. Not us. Hell, least of all, Dave! His memorial gig was last Thursday. It was a balls to the wall all out celebration of a great life. The most striking thing about the day was the complete representation of ALL facets of the comedy community. An unmitigated Full House. It’s the equivalent of The Ramones, Barry Manilow, Kiss, Emmylou Harris, Pavarotti, The Mattoid, Madonna and The Vapors all turning up for Celine Dion’s funeral – except not her, obvs. [insert someone REALLY good]. I simply can’t name another person in our industry who was so beloved and respected no matter which side of the stage you stood on. To say Dave will be sorely missed, is pithy. He leaves a gaping chasm that no one else will be able to fill. Those of us who knew him and were affected by him will simply be richer in every way for having done so.

Vale Dave. Say hi to Tarranto, Gibbo and Herouvim for us. Christ, there’s a show going on somewhere. We love you and miss you all very much. Hairy-Bum, do you need a new pair of thongs?

Go tell the people you love, how much you love them. Make sure your friends know what they mean to you. You can do it now when it counts or at the funeral when it really doesn’t carry the punch you’d like. S’your call.

Til next time.

fahey xxxx

3 comments.

See My Short Film

Posted on December 13th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Or fillum as my Dad would say. It’s here. My Short Fillum. Go see it. Love it. Leave a comment.

Nikon are holding a short film contest. They ask, “So what’s it like to be you? Capture the essence of your day in a video of 140 seconds or less. It can be funny, touching or profound. It can be about everything you did, everything you didn’t do, the day’s biggest dilemma or its most telling detail.” As you can see, we went for ‘profound’. Living with a three year old with a large vocabulary is a lesson in, keeping a straight face. What’s the prize, you ask? Camera’s and stuff, mainly. I don’t expect to win, they judge on image quality – my trusty Canon aint no Nikon 5000D – and some of the entrants have used these gorgeous cameras. It’s like the difference between the Mona Lisa and an Etch-a-Sketch pic. But it was fun, Spike was in fine form and Mo in a mo is always good for giggles.

In other news, we have an Itchy gig this week. An Itchy Nativity – kinda says it all, doesn’t it? Guess which one of us is playing the Virgin Maree? Guess which one of us never ever gets a root – even when he’s married! The delightful Dr Grog, Tim Harris will be our able Narrator/Wise Man and lil one ball Adrian Calear will be the Arc Angel Gabriel and a Wise Man. We may or may not check his prosthetic plum. What are you waiting for?

Haggs was over her the other day and we wrote our play then cleaned up the pee. We have SO much fun, writing. It’s just the best part. We squealed and wheezed and wee’d! Just the old days… Come see us blaspheme, if there are any tickets left. It’s a long night with a LOT of Melbourne’s best and brightest character performers, we’ll be your rancid cream with a cherry on top.

So what do you have to do before you continue with your Xmas shopping, Hanukkah candle lighting or Kwanza… being black-ing? That’s right, click on the link to “Spike and Morrison’s Day… in moustaches.” and then click on the link to buy tickets to our very christianful Nativity play.

Good!

I do love, plans.

Miss Candy-Girl’s keeper xxxx

1 comment.

It Wasn’t That Bad.

Posted on September 20th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Frocks were unfurled. [TICK]
Industrial strength sleeping bag zips were tested to tension levels previously untested. [TICK]
Wigs were shaken and shaken and stepped on before being donned. [TICK TICK]
The next two days were spent doubled over, laughing.

The pony was dusted off and re-jawed (thanks Dr Tim).

Oysters (we only needed one, but got six cause we’re out of practice) a cats leash (for the aforementioned) a small roast pork to play the part of our iPig, a little footy, forks, socks and a stapler (they go together) and a ‘bushfire victim’ to sew to Candy-Girl’s undies were purchased items on our To Get List.

Our warehouse was strewn with things both strange and familiar. If the police/child services had burst in they would probably have drawn their weapons and retreated to a safety corner. My three month old, innocent infant son was ’serenaded’ by a deranged Gerda who kept asking the crying waif, “What’s the matter with you, you stupid little kid.” And, “I can do that too. Waaaaah! Waaaah!” (he seems ok, a little gun-shy of matted red beehive hairdos, which isn’t a problem until we hit Brunswick Street) and Spike wandered around, trying things on (a loin chop headband, a meat bikini and about a kilo of gold plastic beads). He only once asked, “What’s this?” “Ah, that’s a bed pan, son. Give it back to Arnie (his name for Linda).”

We wrote 20 minutes of brand spanking new material. Much of it, hysterically out of control in the car (just like the olden days). Requests were taken and some even, performed. Not executed to exacting standards but hey! It’s been [almost] 10 years!!

I gotta say. I LOVED the new stuff. It’s all for keeps. We introduced Miss Candy-Girl’s pet Oyster, Janet. She was led in on a cat leash (and some sticky tape, if I’m honest. Now, ask me how do you get sticky tape to STICK to a wet, fresh oyster?) “She does tricks! She sits. Get’s kicked and tells the future.” But before the oracle could foretell she was eaten by a jealous (and very game!) Gerda.

See? Nothing’s changed.

We had a chat about racism, “It’s just a word. A funny funny word.” “Ya window!” discussed the merits of being good and therefore being allowed to have a little footy. [Fail] We scrawled the REAL lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Thriller on a large canvas and made the audience sing along. I believe Michael himself popped by and ‘hiii heee’d”. Candy-Girl showed everyone her bushfire victim (we’re not sure WHY it was stuck to her undies but there ya go!) and Candy-Girl listened to her favourite song, “All the Single Ladies, Alla Single Ladies, Alla Single Ladies, Alla Single Ladies Alla Single Ladies…” on her iPig. All the while stuffing forks in socks, then stapling them shut with her best friend, Miss Gerda. You’re welcome, Joshie.

It was both easy and strange being back on stage. I kept standing on the “wrong side”, which threw me and I’m sure, Haggar off. We (again) realised that we should never ‘make do’ and if we need a waist high table, we need to ask for it! We also need radio mics. No more ‘projecting to the back of the room’! Too many jokes got lost. And at least five thousand times, I found myself staring at Gerda’s wig and pissing myself totally out of character. You can forget about the man pants. It was so so so SO much fun.

And here’s a teaser;

Thanks to my beloved for all the techy filmic work and the laborious task of editing our ramblings. Thanks also to Nelly’s hubby for the gorgeous photos, ditto, Whitey Milighty. Thank you to those people who never forgot us who came out in droves to see us shamble our way across stage in our own retarded way. It still is, odd stuff. Dangerous and funny as fluff on a stick.

Will we be back?

Watch out for the Xmas show at the divine, Character Comedy Night. Rumour is one of us will be playing the vestige virgin Mary (who has a bit of IVF) and one of us will be playing Frustrated Joseph who never gets to even finger the virgin mother let alone root her and is then expected to bring up some other bloke’s kid. Alphonso will be ridden into town. We shall reinforce his back.

More video to come. Thriller at the very least.

Thanks again everyone.

Watch this spot.

(Thank you thank you Toby and Nellie and your spectacular Techie.)

Miss Candy-Girl’s Keeper xxxx

And you call follow the Twittering, here.

2 comments.

Miss Itchy – On Stage July 19 – Live – Be Afraid… I Mean There. Be There.

Posted on July 14th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Miss Itchy – out of mothballs, having survived not only the last 10 yrs stuffed in prop barrels along side the remnants of baby harp seals (plural, each in varying stages of bashedness), a litter of unwanted plucked kittens (some on skewers, some just flattened naturally by a brick) and the hair strands from our patented Hair Walker (gawd remember those?!) but survived being stored in prop barrels at Linda’s fire ravaged Kinglake home. (And the one, two garages/storage sheds before that.)

Risen once again, like the Phoenix. River Phoenix. Drug addled with a bit of sick still in their mouths that the coroner is going to have to suction out before he can even think of embalming the bodies. Is there nothing that can kill eight metres of taffeta that smells like off-cream and bushfire? Hmm, no!

Linda had just survived Australia’s nastiest inferno and I’d just had a human baby, respiratory distress and Cerebral Bells Palsy so when Nelly Thomas asked Loob if there was any chance we’d frock-up to celebrate the opening of their new Character Comedy night at Trades Hall – the sensible answer seemed to be, “Look, if I can find our wigs and they don’t have too many poisonous spiders in them… I’ll ask Fahey…”

I’m shit scared of spiders which is why Miss Gerda always handled our Huntsman when making our Huntsman Scuffs I love them, but I’m frightened and torturing our *FCIC interviewees. (Sorry, Christine.) And why it was also Gerda who did the great escape from the Sleeping Bag of Horror and how it had turned to actual horror when I’d accidental tipped the entire container of live Daddy Long Legs Spiders into the sleeping bag instead of the pocket stapled in the bag and she had to REALLY thrash about to be sure she’d killed ‘em all. Well, being fairly confident she knew kinda where she’d maybe seen the wigs when they packed the house up at Baysie to move to Croydon before their house was built at Kinglake and did I remember how the entire Mud Cake Wrestling in Aspic through a Leaf Shredder onto a Ramp of Terror over Kittens and Guinea Pigs all controlled by Dr. Grog. Or was it Princess Fat… no wait… Princess Criminal the innocent paedophile. Or was it the glamorous Uncle Cockneck with Crickets go? And YES she’s pretty sure there wouldn’t be any spiders left in our wigs!? Surely.

Since our last gig we have still spoken to one another (and a handful of friends and demented fans) in Itchy-speak so that bit would be like falling off an oyster named Janet. It was the rest of it. Ah fuck it. I will if you will. And you know what, I think that’s how it ALL started in the first place!

e-mail sampling #1:
> Been chrying to think how we can have a rool pig for an iPig.

So a goodened oydear. Ut cood be a ginny pig or fayling a rool pig ut cood orso be a block off of baykun. Dirdy, sloimy baykun whot are tucked into dellykut man-pants.

That was about two months ago and it DID seem like an great idea at the time. Pull on a tight wig, wriggle into the aforementioned stinky textile and hey, didn’t I used to wear gloves with that outfit? You DID find the wigs?! Oh yeah, I found the wigs. But I’m scared to wash them…

Character Comedy is the brain child of Nelly and Tanya Lossanno. Now in it’s 10th season proudly taking up permanent residency at Trades Hall (corner of Victoria and Lygon streets in Carlton) the 3rd Sunday of each month, co-produced by the effervescent Toby Sullivan. Character comedy is a hard thing to get right and it’s hard thing to practice/perfect. Stand up rooms aren’t always accepting of someone in a wig or a chap holding a plastic dog so more power to the girls for fostering a safe haven for characters. Doesn’t help Miss Itchy though – cause they’re real and live at the Shrine of Remembrance (cause of the 24/7 BBQ facilities) – always have.

e-mail sampling #2:
Sooo… haven’at chyoo deecoided where Mince CannyGrill wants her stoma site? Abuv or binlow tha nayvul?

Miss Itchy were born out of another (mostly) character comedy night called, Purge at the Limerick Arms out in Sth Melbourne. It was a night to “bring out your dead” the material you were too scared to do anywhere else. The dark stuff. The stuff a normal audience wouldn’t let you get away with. (I know, still makes me pee with glee at the very thought.) Linda and I had been writing and performing together for a couple of years but the stuff that used to make us screamingly fall-down-joyous, we hadn’t really been able to ’sell’ on stage. Purge was a godsend. There’s something to be said for popping on a frock or meat rompers as it was in Gerda V 1.0’s case and being brave. Back then we didn’t even have names, we were just Miss Itchy and we had a wicked song or two (still wicked by today’s standards) and some kittens to euthanise. Seems other people thought it was as funny as we did and that’s intoxicating, so we kept doing it until it wasn’t. Intoxicating I mean.

e-mail sampling #3: (To Tim Harris)
Yesterday I lifted my garage door – (to look for the big tub of stuff, costumes n’ shit for Mince Inchy – tell ya bout that in a second) – and guess who popped his head up and wanted to tell me the temperature?

Ahh Alphonso the Room Temperature Pony. Is there a room temperature you’re not familiar with?

[Above. Alphonso & his Dad. Itchy Couriers. And two ladies, two drag queens. Which is which? You be the judge, judy & elocutioner.]

It’s been a looooong time. Two babies, five houses, two continents, a bushfire, a new art career and a sore shoulder (I hurt it carrying Mo around Harvey Norman the other day) between drinks. Fluffy Duck or a lovely cricket mashed Grasshopper for the lady?

One more drink sounds delicious.

Can I get you one?

Here, come on through to the Trades Hall bar. Upstairs on the corner of Lygon and Victoria Streets. Show starts early, around 5ish? Check the website. It’s all here.

Alphonso will nuzzle your coat.

e-mail sampling #4:
Hey yeah, we HAVE still got it. Only I don’t know if my gut is going to fit into my frock.

til next time,

Miss Candy-Girl’s keeper. xxxx

*FCIC, Fucken Cunt in a Cage. Our interview segment from our “Inaugural Barry Award Winning” Breakfast Show. It’s a whole story on it’s own but suffice to say, I deeply apologise to Ms Christine Basil who had an angry 7 legged Hunstman dropped on her while she was trapped in the cage one night after he spooked Miss Gerda’s handler and she wissed in her man pants and dropped him. It’s one thing to have a spider dropped on you, it’s quite another to have one dropped on you, while you’re in a cage, on stage in a sold out room with bright lights burning out your retinas – retinas that would have been handy for focusing on and capturing the aforementioned pissed off arachnid. I also sincerly apologise to the audience I stampeded across (kinda like a kelpie in a sheering shed) in my efforts to put as much space possible between me, Miss Candy-Girl and that spider. Sir Marcus Wellsby, was retired that very night and we believe, still lives happily in the trees outside the Melbourne Town Hall, waiting… watching…

13 comments.