Ravings for Remedies

THIS WRITING PIECE MAY OFFEND SOME READERS!

MA (18+ to <26)

Adult Themes

Drugs

Coarse Language

Rovers

Sex Scenes

Violence

(There is little or no offensive words in this report appart from, 5 tits, 5 SMO’s, 3 penis’, 17 shits, 26 fucks, a foreskin , 2 balls, 800 dickheads and a terminated rabbit!)

PROLOGUE:

(WHAT’S UP – 4 Non Blondes (remixed-DJ Miko))

I’M FUCK’N GONE – 4 Pissed Rovers

by Paul “DAD” Glaister

A few hours of my life in the tent,

Trying to get, uh seriously bent from Beam,

For a paraletication!

I’m fuck’n gone

I’m fuck’n gone

I’m fuck’n gone

(Repeat Intro paragraph)

I realise I should’ve mixed it with coke,

Cause now I’m beginning to fuck’n choke,

Ah-hah, yeah I’m starting to scream.

Until a thousand times I’ve stumbled around,

Smashing into trees and head-butting the ground,

And I’m, I’m feeling a little peculiar.

And so I take out the money and I walk to the shop,

To buy a slab, and drink the lot,

And I, scream at the top of my lungs “I’m Fuck’n Gone!”

Did I say “Hey, yeah yeah

Hey, yeah yeah, I said Hey, I’m Fuck’n Gone!”

(Repeat)

And I sigh! Oh-my-god do I sigh!

I sigh oh-so high, around this babes thigh!

And I say! Oh-my-god do I say!

I say “You’ve got nice hay,

for a blondulation!”

Until a thousand times I’ve tried to see,

How one person feels after drinking J.D.,

Ah-hah, they really can’t stand up.

And when the crew’s back from the Tug-of-war,

I see an nice babe, and I say “FWOOAARR!”

And my heart starts beating so fast, I think I’d die!

CHORUS

I’m Fuck’n Gone!

I’m Fuck’n Gone!

I’m Fuck’n Gone!

INTRODUCTION:

(First page of Introduction written from Matts point of view!)

“Okay, I’ll…just loosen this crank-shaft, ooooh that feels better!”….Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! “what?! What?! WHAT?! WHAT!!! WHAT!!!!!! Oh!, time to get up, okay it’s…uuuuuurrrggg!…it’s what! Ten O’Clock, I’m outta here real quick! Gotta pick-up Dad & Dave, get the trailer, make way to Cam’s house, get the palette etc… I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those fucking days!” Ran out to the Nissan (period coloured) jumped in and drove to Dad’s house. Upon arrival at Dad’s house, I found that he was nowhere in sight, maybe he was inside, yeah, that’s where he’d be! “Well staple my bum cheeks together! Dad’s actually ready!” Loaded the gear in boot and headed for Steve’s work, at every set of lights the car played up at bit, by alternating both the brakes and the accelerator, it jumped forwards and backwards and upwards and downwards and everyotherwhichwaywards. Drove Steve’s Commodore to get trailer, Dad jumping around like a dickhead directing the car towards the trailer. “Your not a homey I hope Dad?!” replying thoughtfully “No way!”, Drove back to Steve’s work then home with trailer. Blast horn at old bastard, give him heart attack. Told Dad to pick up wood and put in trailer. Dad said some smart-arsed comment, but I didn’t hear him. Pat Gabe, give sanga to Dad, eat sanga, Dad ate sanga, Dad choked on sanga, Dad brought up sanga, Dave rang…Hoon down to Dave’s house, Dave’s not ready?! SHIT! Bloody Dave!!!

[Meanwhile: Passing some houses on the way back to my house to get the slab, I Phtooyed on several lawns, Dad asked why, I said I just hated them, Dad accidentally Phtooyed on my lawn, I told him it was alright! Returned to Dave's house.]

Dave finished his packing, he couldn’t find the volley ball or the footy. Dave kept saying “I know I’ve forgotten something!” Let’s just get the fuck out of here! Stopped off at SELECT to fill up with fuel before screeching out of the servo. For some reason Dad was not telling his usual line-up of practical jokes and limericks, instead, he was too busy trying to keep from my wrath of cindering words. Heading down Canterbury Rd toward Lilydale, Dave says “I know what I forgot, my sleeping bag!” At this stage, I looked at Dave as if to say, “Your fucking joking?”, but even as I thought that, I knew the Tasmanian was telling the truth, as I simultaneously slammed on the brake pedal locking up all fours, while shifting back to 1st…an enormous grinding sound could be heard. With the steering wheel banked furthest to the right, I hung a monstrous U-bolt almost tipping the van onto it’s side, slamming through the gears again, reaching 80kph in 10 seconds, pretty damn impressive, for a Fuck-Truck. I shouted out the window when the U-Bolt was complete, “SHIT! Bloody Dave!” After another 30 minutes of constant buggerising around we were on our way to Mudbash ‘94, once more. In roughly the same region, “Damn-it!” I said as I locked up all fours again, as traffic swerved from side to side to avoid an accident and the annoying sounds of people screaming abuse, ‘Abuse, abuse!’, “I know what I forgot, I spent 6 months building a fire-bin and I left it at home, SHIT!” Oh fuck it then! FUCK!

We then drove to Cam’s house where we loaded the palette of wood on board the trailer (using the fork lift), along with the substitute fire-bin and the chair. We then hooned to the Healesville food-town, where Dave and myself bought food for the weekend. We also engaged in trolley races down the isles, and kept running into Dad’s ankles, “quit it, quit it!”

We threw in stuff that we thought we may need. Total cost of food was approximately $90.00. Give a shit! From there we hooned to the Melba highway and continued our journey of destiny & peril. For most of the way toward `The Truck Stop’, c’mon you bitch, start and keep going! Parked left of Truck stop. Bought 2 bottles of Methylated Spirits and told Dad to insert them into the fuel tank. Dad said he didn’t know how! Dave said “Your joking?!” Dad goes “Yeah!” Dave goes “YOU IDIOT!”, Dad goes, he goes, he goes, he just goes. It didn’t do much good however, the van was still as jerky as a masturbating bull on a paint shaker.

After numerous stops/starts, swearing & other profound abusive language, jumping out and kicking the panels, were directed at the van, we reached Yea. We wasted no time in getting the old fella out to siphon the python & have a good hard choke. What! these dunnies have automatic flushers. Going to have some fun here, he he he. They flush when liquid is detected. MacGyver sentence: Dad grabs a stick and pushes it into the basin tap just right of the slash-pan, and points it in the direction of the target, water sprays against the urinal and hey-presto! continuous flushing! `Thanks MacGyver we never would have known how to do that if it wasn’t for you.’ “Hey don’t thank me, thank the moon’s gravitational pull!“

Dad & Dave walked up the promenade of main street to check out the babes in the general stores, walk in and out of fish & chip shops without buying anything; just warming up. When they returned, the problem was indicated by the serviceman, that the electronics was the problem, we got in the van and I said “Fuck-it!”. We headed over to the Nissan service/parts shop to get something (because Dad’s writing my thoughts, he doesn’t know shit about cars!). Dad shivered in the cold night air, Dave gave Dad his other coat (and he hardly took it off for the whole weekend). The part was not available, so we replied together “FUCK!” and pissed off toward Mudbash once again. Within ten minutes or so, we reached the turn-off for Mafeking National Park.

THE SPECTACULAR STACK ON ONE OF THE TREACHEROUS CORNERS!

Unsuspecting Matt, started applying the brakes slowly and gently…then a bit more…okay! a lot more!… “Shit guys we’re going to hit, brace yourselves, evasive actions, shields up, Matt, give this baby all you’ve got!!!…I’m giving her all she’s got Dad, if I givva any more she’s gonna blow!!!” With two and a half tonnes of wood behind the trailer, but nothing was going to slow us down….Shhiiiiiiiittttt!” (it’s like Superman standing in front of a speeding locomotive with an steel-boner expecting to stop it..yeah! I’d like to see that!). Boom! Thwack! Shit! Thwack! Boom! “Shield damage at critical, two tyres with radiation damage, shall I seal them, sir? Make it so!” Marks of disbelief, terror and shock plagued Dave’s face (Dave’s soft and sheltered high school life obviously didn’t provide him with the strengths to deal with the nasties of the real world (anonymous tip-off!)), however Matt and myself had completely opposite reactions on our faces. We started an ever increasing and intensifying laugh that frightened Dave, now coiled up in his corner of the front seat with his eye brows enlarged and his wide-eyes flickering between his finger-tips at the wickedness of Matt and myself. About four kilometres up the road, we were almost at the top of a hill, when the car stalled for the fiftieth time, we had an “over the hill” party. We then bobbed back and forth like a nerve-gassed decapitated leper on a buck-horse, and managed to get the van rolling again, “Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ keep those doggies rollin’!” Because the van was dying in the arse, we had to ditch the trailer in order to make it. Matt started the van again as we headed for the Mudbash gates. Mudbashians from everywhere were flocking into the park’s B.Y.O. sheltered campsites.
YES! We finally made it to Mudbash. For a moment I just sat and scanned at the familiar sights of the area. I could not believe that it was only last year that I was at Mudbash for the first time, where my adventures and the crew’s antics were recorded in the start of my Logbook writing saga, and especially where it triggered one of my most sexist, sadistic, swearing-smothered, stupefied, cigarette stomped, smart-arsed, son-of-a-motherless-llama and completely true writing pieces ever, ie. The 1993 Mudbash Report. After reminiscing some cough!exual thoughts, the roof of Schwerkolt’s glorious corrugated-iron shed could be seen very easily in the foreground. There were also some Super-loo’s here and there, nice babes, and very few tents. There was no Tepee (besides Dave.M) this year, only large trailer loads of wood. We headed for our site, which was clouded in greenery. I can’t believe how much it has grown back. “Not for long, I’ve got an axe (wound)…he he he!”

Since the time we anticipated arrival was seriously altered, Cam & Matt set up the fire-drum and numerous other things including ‘The Legend’s Sofa’, whilst Andy “Muzzle”, Dave and I went back to the trailer to claim it once again. After two hours of back-straining work in holding the torch and letting Muzzle and Dave fix the trailer up, I was sitting on the end of the trailer sinking cans (that’s 3 so far! buuuuurrrpp ppphhttooooey!!!). It was possibly about 11:00pm when we got back tired as all hell. I done myself proud by finishing off a tin of raw tuna and oil (which I drank…mmmm brine mmmm!), then sat around the fire with the others, ie. Dave, Matt, Cam, Cam’s Tracey, Muzzle, numerous others from different crews including, from memory, Mick, Rompa, J.C., Moony, Cathy and Beef. When the fire fuelled down a touch, I went and climbed inside the flute-bag, on an armchair?! Dave “The bastard” took ‘The legend’s sofa.’ Matt slept on the ground, etc…that’s all I remember from Thursday. Goodnight all!

DEDICATIONS:

(This page has been cleansed by holy water…not!)

To my sweet little blueberry muffin…

The one I lost in the fire on Mudbash.

To Matt & Tracey…

Like, happy engagement bud-dy(s)!

I hope the years ahead show fulfilment

success and good-times

(hint-hint, nudge-nudge, get your end wet, eh eh!, say no more!).

MUDBASH: MAFEKING ROVER PARK

FRIDAY 10th June 1994

Urrrgh! What a headache! Matt said the only cure for a hangover, is another beer! Sheeyeahright! Well, it’s worth a try…mmmmmm mmmmmm…okay so it doesn’t work straight away, but it still tastes good! What a day, the sun’s shinning like a Maglite in a rabbit’s eye, not a cloud in sight, no toxic aroma’s…so why, is it so fucking cold?! What the hell, time to get up…oh can’t be bothered, “Wake me up in 30mins Matt!”, `No worries Dad!’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . NO MORE ICE CREAM!!! `Wake up Dad, it’s just a (wet) dream!’…huh…oh…well time to get up now. Most of Friday morning was a bit of a blur due to the consumption of…er…orange juice, yeah, that’s it orange juice…phew! strong stuff that vitamin ‘C’!!! After a hearty breakfast of 1 day-old milk and “Fruut Rings” (Safeway Froot Loops), we started to apply the tents and other miscellaneous equipment to the campsite, which we had not attended to the previous night, due to insufficient light and can’tbefuckedness.

Before the tents were ERECTED, we had to demolish the undergrowth, now sprouting like weeds under my ball-sack of spermicidal residue. “Need a space where? here? okay, here goes! Aaaaarrrrggghhh!” `THUD!’ With Tracey arriving earlier that morning, the help for the tents was multiplied by..er..none. The real bonus was when Dave took a specky in the bracken and actually found it comfortable there! Strange…he would rather stay in BUSH than help with the tent,…BUSH…TENT…BUSH…TENT…has a nice RING to it don’t you think! “Canna anyone get a guy-rope from over there! There. Alright! That’s three tents done now.” The guest tents: The KTRC Oldies Tent, including Mr & Mrs Gaggs (There will be no rooting on their behalf — they’re married!), Wayne “Sponsa” Rust, Glennis, Martine and the other two tents, The TASSIE Oldies Tent, Leitchy, James etc and the KTRC tent. Anyhow, after numerous hours of ball-wrenching work…cough!ullshit!…we sat down to enjoy the rest of the day. Shaddy appeared with Derek and Lisa in his Torana ‘Pirhana,’ and were welcomed by Muzzle, Matt and myself. Derek sat on his chair with Lisa, basking in the sunshine, Shaddy and I went to the new dunnies as he was screaming for a shit, like me. The game: Forsatan Combat. The objective: To do the biggest plooooop! We returned with our tinnies empty, and wasted no time in grabbing another.

THE PAINFUL ADVENTURES OF MATT MASON

Everybody knows what kind of SHIT happens at Mudbash. There’s the beer skulling contents, the gorgeous women (however sparse), the high-fidelity music and ear destroying bass-drum, usually referred to as Techno or FRechno (Fucking Radical Techno), the mud (just add water!), the incredibly unintelligent drunk people, and of coarse, there are the in(ac)cidents. No other crew in the world has had as many in(ac)cidents as the Ken Tickell Rover Crew. First there was unfortunate and devastating death of our founder in 1993, then there was the miraculously stupid person who trashed our den. Other tales include Daves trouble with gravity, his sore hip…1…2…3…oooooohhh! and who can forget the infamous 6-inch nails. Then there were the stories of my old hat and the excruciating pain associated with jamming my tockley in the zip on Surfmoot ‘94. But now it is Matt’s turn to take a stroll around the threshold of the ouch!-side.

You see, it happened that night, early (c.11:00), when Matt (who was technolly sloshed), requested by Dave, to walk 5 metres ahead and then 5 metres back…to prove the state of his alcohol consumption. Matt walked the first five, turned around and walked another 1 metre before lunging toward Dave…….He Missed! Rapidly, Matt was taken to the nearest hospital in an ambulance, red flashing lights everywhere (Yep you guessed it! Derek’s car was that ambulance!) In the operating room, he was attended to by several doctors. The surgeon said “Dad, he’s lost a lot of blood, we don’t know if his jaw will live again, but we can re-build him! Make him eat more, drink more, suck more piss, faster than ever before. He’ll be the first Bionic Pisshead! THE SIX CAN DRINKER MAN!” Kkkkkkkkkk Kkkkkkkkkk. So 5000 tissues, 4 Cigarettes, 6 Cans of Beer and 30 Stitches later, the new Matt stepped out of the operating room, with a robotic jaw. He’s now our official beer can crusher! The only difference, his stance was then leant forward considerably, the kind you’d see when someone gets a wedgie.

…Later that night, when the hills were alive with the sound of rooting…

Standing around the fire, I realised that it was kind of draughty whilst at the same time rather fiery…Muzzle said “You kind of get that way when you don’t have any pants on!”. . .huh!. . .aargh!. I was yet still thinking about this report and trying to live it, whilst writing it (pretty hard when you think about it!). I grabbed another beer from the old JVC-VIC six pack and placed it in my Victoria Bitter stubbie holder. Basically all of the crew was positioned around the campfire in a RING format, each wielding some sort of drinking apparatus. Being a mild-mannered kind of person (not!), I thought precautiously about what move to take next. I know, I’ll write a Status Sheet about everybody’s scores and skulls. Still being daylight, my mates to the sides of me, ie. Shaddy, Mick, Ian, Tracey and Glenn, looked on and said “The hell are you writing?”. Everyone was all excited about what was going down.

That’s where I sat for about 1 hour, still tranced about the writing. I asked SMO (Why, I hear you say, do we call him SMO?!, well basically Dave kept saying You Idiot! to Ian, with the reply Suck Me Off!), to remember as much as he could about the weekend, I’m going to get para. tonight! I walked up to MUD FM — Flashback – Yes! Yes! Yes! Welcome back, welcome back to 98.1 Murray FM the official radio station for the 1994 ICI Red Cross Murray Marathon — Flashback – and request “Holier than thou – Metallica”,”Whats Up – D.J.Miko” and “Achilles Last Stand – Led Zeppelin.” Apparently they didn’t play half of them, so enraged, I did nothing about it, except open another beer and begin thinking about the future of beer advertising.

THE IRRELEVANT THOUGHT

I kept thinking to myself, “I’ve got a girlfriend at home, should I be totally ruthless and pick-up tonight, or be a depressed son-of-a-piece-of-five-week-old-poo-stained-jox and avoid any rooting.” One thing about myself, I can never make up my mind easily. So I tossed (off) a coin, HEAD’s I try, TAIL’s I don’t!…Damn!…TAI..er..HEAD’s…Wha-hoi! It’s gonna be a fun night in the mud tonight! My EX-girlfriend is a hoe anyway, sheesh! Her name, Kerrii – 5′2″, not exactly a perfect height for someone like me who’s 6′8″. Her breath could gag an ox, her facial appearances could split a polar-ice-cap and she’s not a skippy! She’s completely unfaithful, untrustworthy and unbrainpowered. She could not even trust me with her phone number, address or surname (she probably couldn’t even pronounce it!), so I have now declared war on all her species (ie. the non-skippy’s).

THE MISSIONS

Strategic plan – Mission 14: Find out her address and write a letter saying “Mrs Kerrii, your daughter is a hoe, signed Doctor Do F.A.” or shall I just do an egg-bomb sweep! I can’t decide. To do either, I will need the team, the original team, the T(ickell)-Team. Our missions so far have been a complete success, well except for one, that was Dave’s fault…bloody Tasmanian!)

Mission #1: Reflector Discharge SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 18 reflector signs Secondary: 5 x abusive words & 2 x “birds” to passing car’s

Bonus goals: 3 drunkenly edited songs Agents: Dad, Dave, Shaddy, SMO.

Mission #2: Total Blackout SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 cursed street light Secondary: Miss fired stones hit several roof’s in the vicinity

Agents: Dad, Dave, Shaddy.

Mission #3: Sign Reconnaissance SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 street sign tossed in bushes Secondary: 1 Give-way sign

Agents: Dad, Dave, Shaddy.

Mission #4: Webbing Strike SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 50′ of construction webbing Secondary: 1 flashing beacon

Bonus goals: Laughed like hell Agents: Dad, Dave, Shaddy, SMO.

Mission #5: Salvage Beacon SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 flashing beacon Secondary: 2 x 50% charged batteries

Agents: Dad & Dave

Mission #6: Crossing Capture SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 Lollipop crossing pole Agents: Dad & Shaddy

Mission #7: Naked Cricket SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 game, bats were sensitive Secondary: Neighbours had a geezer!

Bonus goals: Pants-down party Agents: Dad, Dave, Shaddy, SMO

Mission #8: Light Arrest SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1×2′ radius light bulb Secondary: Deployed at Russ’s house

Agents: Dad & Dave

Mission #9: Reflector Reconnaissance SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1 x Road Reflector Secondary: Den accessory

Agents: Dad

Mission #10: CLASSIFIED SUCCESSFUL

Mission #11: Witches Hat SUCCESSFUL

Primary: 1x Large witches hat Secondary: 21st present for Dad

Agents: Russ & Steve (outside agency)

Mission #12: Bang Wanker UNSUCCESSFUL

Primary: Huge blow-up Mobile phone Secondary: Caught by the coppers

Agents: Dad & Dave

Mission #13: Rehabilitate the den SUCCESSFUL

Primary: Rehabilitation Area sign Agents: Dave

As you can see we have explored areas and taken those memories back with us. Not only was each mission successful, they were also heaps of fun. All would have been a failure, if I had not brought my Jester hat silencer. Anyway, back to Mudbash…

Blurry memories clouded my thoughts when I wrote the rest of this dribble, as the last of the swallowed beer shot out the eye of me dicks. Much of everyone’s campsites were not set up at that stage, but who gives a fuck! After a day of setting up and thinking the left-over and broken flesh around my lips was better tasting than the “Homebrand” hamburgers Shaddy and I had for tea, I could take no more. After finishing off the rest of six-pack #2 of 12, I made a move in the direction of my fart-sack, waving an uncontrollable urge to get horizontal, quick. Luckily my bed was empty, as I didn’t have the energy or inclination to play any tunes on the bed flute tonight…moments later I blacked out…

MUDBASH: MAFEKING ROVER PARK

SATURDAY 11th June 1994:

Early that morning I started on a positive note: I woke with a tremendous towering stiffness around the schlong area. It was one of the best nights sleep I have ever had on a camp/moot (certainly beats that hike in Venturers to the Howqua bridge, when we slept on an unused river bed, all 5 crammed in a 2-man tent! That was hot…especially since I was lying next to a gorgeous babe…mmmmm…babe…mmmmm!). I immediately looked over at Dave and remembered that old ditty “Get a girl, get a girl, get a girl if you can, if you can’t get a girl, get a Hutchin’s man!” (Tassie-bloke-joke!). After numerous sniggers and chuckles to myself, I stood up, didn’t shave, didn’t slash, just sat around the fire, and moaned a perverted sigh of relief as my tockley decreased in density. I went back inside the tent and talked to Tracey for a while who was reading an article on “THE CONTROLLERS”. Do we live by the influence of beings much more powerful and intelligent than the likes of us, are they the dark-eyes, the silent ones, the slantys or are they…The Controllers! Sheeyeahright! Tracey produced a jester’s hat from her bag, I tried it on, huh! perfect fit, combined with my shades, Tracey said I looked cool! ME?! COOL?! HA! Shaddy took a photo when I had my enormous tongue sticking out of my mouth. Tracey was given the Jester Hat by her mum as a pressie (incidentally I had the honour of meeting Tracey’s mum (Mrs. VB) & step-dad (Marty) at her 22nd…er…21st B-day…they’re bloody legends!). I asked Tracey if I could wear it around for a while. With all of the courage I could muster, I walked out of the tent, and sat by the fire. Everyone gasped at the sight of me and my huge grin on my face, I took a liking to the hat instantly. Dick, broke the silence, “Don’t you think your a bit old to be wearing a hat like that, Dad!” Derek didn’t have to say anything, I knew in his eyes he was saying….”Yep, looks normal!” But that didn’t stop me, I wore it all weekend…and I loved it…the attention…the laughter associated with the attention…the pointing…the insults…the confidence…ha! that’s me! In someone’s own words, “It takes balls to wear a hat like that in public!” Anyway, after the novelty had just set in, I sat around the fire for about three consecutive hours, sipping the beer from the aluminium containers (can), sit…sip…sit…sip…sit…sip!

After numerous discussions with other peoples, ie. Wayne “Cub-hat”, Rusty, Beef “Still looking for his root/penis”, J.C., Liz(ard), Lisa, Derek, Dave, Matt, Andrea, Rompa, Shaddy, A.B., Tracey, Shaddy etc. and with all the courage I could gather, walked up to the obstacle course. There we saw Hec Sebire’s “MUDSLUG”, which made it through the obstacle course no worries…well maybe just one worry. When they got stuck in the “Mud-pit”, the recovery-4WD attached the grapple to the bull-bar. BIG MISTAKE!!! The force of the Maverick’s acceleration and the Mudslug’s predicament caused the bull-bar to rip right off and the hook came flying towards the Maverick. The bull-bar went right over the top and the hook became imbedded in the Maverick. Shaddy and I, ran away in a fit of laughter, we kept looking around only to laugh some more. In a way, it was a bit calice how we were laughing, but we didn’t care, it was a funny sight, people were chanting “Loser, Loser, Loser!” Doesn’t matter, we than walked down to the Pits and examined all the cars. From Jikka Jikka’s vehicle to the Appollo. Shaddy and I went to the donut stand and bought some ‘dog nuts’, then sat in the cafeteria and chowed-down. Talked to Chuck and Mick and went back to camp.

THE HILL CLIMB

Shaddy and I grabbed another two cans each plus a traveller, then decided to walk up to the Hill-Climb and check out the happenings. From the start, we bush-bashed our way through the undergrowth, which was immensely strong, a number of times I went arse over tit, into a bush, rolled over and over down the hill and plunged into the whirling blackness of a hidden waterway…hang-about, sorry wrong story…I was scratched and scarred, then rose from the rubble and battered onwards. Shaddy was not far behind, he was kicking some poor defenceless bush to smithereens. You could see the devilish intentions in Shaddy’s personality as he brutalised and wilfully declared the bush…well…fucked! We started climbing the rock face of Mafeking, some 40 metres at a fairly steep angle of and found that after about 55 seconds, we were buggered.

When we reached the top, apart from being breathless, I was almost knocked over by the peaceful and elegant view of the surrounding area’s. Standing in a north-eastern direction, we could almost see the whole encampment, if it was not for the such thick abundance of bush (mmmm…BUSH…mmmm!), which after a few working bee’s became the Hill-Climb. The hillsides and gullies leant down towards the whole of Mafeking, everything was enveloped in a white-misty fog, but was still visible. Shaddy, grabbed his camera and took a shot of me when I was lying motionless on the rock-face. I took a photo of him, as he portrayed a home-boy! (see photo’s…if you dare!). Shaddy is the kind of guy who is almost completely dedicated to the crew (95%), although he may look asleep when awake, he’s still a good mate and will not let you down.

THE LOST NOTES

Um…ah…I-lost-the-notes! Please don’t hit me! I’m too old! I can’t describe what happened that night, for SMO and I were completely pissed out of collective minds (you could say SMO is like a Man-at-arms, if he can’t remember something, chances are I won’t remember it either). So I will try to simulate what happened by doing what I do best…bullshit! Okay how do I start this off, I know…It was a dark and stormy night…It was a shitty, cold and pathetic day…It was chilly, nobody was insight, yeah!, I was walking down a dark, sheltered highway for no apparent reason, suddenly, nothing happened so I kept walking, walking down the highway. Eventually I came upon a bridge (cleaned it up) and crossed it. There was a shape in the distance, it looked rather like a tree, but I wasn’t sure…so I ran over to identify it, IT WAS, a tree. I then noticed some cows in the fields behind me, pissed on the electric fence just to get a buzz. The overhanging branches frightened me, oh yes, they did frighten me! So I pulled out my Noddy teddy (well it’s the only teddy with a jesters hat!) and held it in the direction of my fear. The fear went away instantaneously. I kept walking, walking down the highway…my beer now becoming rather flat. Without consideration, I placed it in the recyclable aluminium container bin which just happened to be in the vicinity. My skin flitched as I looked hesitantly into the ominous darkness which was swallowing up around me. I itched my brow and let go a fart that would tear your teeth out (one-nil I says)! The stench made me dizzy, I faint. Moments later, which felt like an eternity, I rose. I was getting desperate. I saw some sheep in the field nearby, damn!, I haven’t got my velcro gloves with me! No matter. The coldness was suffocating my sight, my body-temp. must have been depleting! I inserted the ‘traveller’ into my stubbie-holder and popped its lid. The ooze from the can sprayed against my face, as gentle streams caressed over my lips and chin. I jolt back a swig, my eyes spun as the flavour of the beer unleashed the more romantic side of me (I am indeed Blue!). As if all the clouds had vanished without a trace, I noticed a bright star hovering over a field in the distance. It was a strange sight to witness. I could not help but think what purpose it held. The simplistic hillsides were con-caving toward an open field, what that open field beheld was beyond me. However I was not content to walk down the highway any longer. So unadorned, I picked up the pace and endeavoured into the unknown. The wind circling around me, picked up a branch, and then dropped it again. What I saw on the next step, engulfed my wildest dreams, I saw a vortex of light, reaching toward the heavenly skies, in the position of that one bright star. No light from the moon could cast so many shadows as this, if only I was closer, closer to the fabric of it. Closer to what looked like a gateway?!…unto what? A parallel dimension?! Another world perhaps?!…no, it really looks a lot more like…MUDBASH!, Finally!, “I’m coming babe, I’m coming babe, I’m coming babe, I’m coming babe”…”Wake up Dad, Wake up Dad, Wake up Dad, Wake up Dad…it’s a just a bloody dream…and for christ sake, CLEAN THOSE SHEETS!”

After a dinner of moldy sausages and flat Passiona, Shaddy, SMO, Liz(ard), Andrea and myself walked up to Bungaree Rover Crew’s infamous, party-site and met up with Paul “Pugsley” Gard (who was operating a 4 channel Mixer and Dual stack CD player) for the first time. I’d always wanted to meet the bloke, as I heard so much incrimminating information about him, however I mixed him up with Wayne (cub-hat!), oh well, fuck-it! We arrived at the dance-floor and began dancing immediately. I was jumping around and listening to the bells bash against the arch of the hat…I’ve never tired of it, yet!

Glennis, Woody, Martine, Matt, Tracey, Shaddy, SMO and myself just dancing like complete cocks, it was fun…until Liz(ard) came and danced on my toes, “Quit it, quit it!” Through all of the special mental dances we engaged in: Sunshine, Moonshine, Good Times, Boogie; Here she comes now singing Mony Mony, Hey mother-fucker get down and get laid!; If I only knew who I could screw, make you, make you fuck me!…etc. I turned around when jamming on the floor, and this really big-dude was standing behind me, it was like…holy-shit! Please don’t drop the soap! He was freaking me out, so I said the first thing that came into my mind, “Hey mate, fuck’n dance!” He started dancing alright, within minutes he was dancing with more stance than myself…oooh jealousy! I later met up with him on the 98.1 Murray FM as Parksey!

As I mentioned before in The Surfmoot Report ‘94: Babewatch, I met up with Condom, this time it was worse, he was wearing…gulp!…blue jean-shorts, a Ren & Stimpy T-shirt, green thermo-pants and Blundies! Mick and J.C. met up with us as we walked up to MUD FM to forcefully request some songs, this time we were ready for their reply. We ran in cover format to the bushland (Hill-climb area), Condom and J.C. kept watch, while Mick and I stepped tentatively into the bracken, stepping only on the dirt, making sure not to destroy any re-growth, trying to find a weapon of mass-destruction. We looked hesitantly into the distance and saw a large glowing object which stood out more than the other glowing objects. It had a golden rim around it. It looked magnificent. `Oh well, this is more important than some freak of nature and besides I haven’t got time to graft it back afterwards!’, as I broke two large branches from the golden tree, while Mick grabbed two more branches from a green glowing tree. We waltzed back to Condom and J.C. and gave them each a branch. Again, in cover format, J.C. and Condom advanced while Mick and I covered from behind. Without any warning, The radio station door opened and out stepped a bloke for a smoke. I indicated in Baseball signalling to Mick and J.C. to circle around the grassland and take him by surprise, as we would act as a decoy. “But Dad, isn’t that suicide?” asked Mick, “Yeah, but who gives a fuck!”. Slowly J.C. and Condom moved around until they were in position, as Mick and I made our move. “G’day mate, may we interest you in `The International Log’, just tug its twig and you can turn your Log into a talking tree…ooof!…THUMP!…”Moron!” Alright that’s one down, one to go. We broke-open the door and in backup format entered the caravan, and held the DJ at log-point, “Reach for the sky…we want the following songs played next: Achilles Last Stand — Led Zeppelin, Holier than thou — Metallica, What’s Up — DJ Miko, Blood Sugar Sex Magic — Chilli Peppers etc…, and I want it played so that everybody can hear it!” ‘Y-yes s-s-sir, j-just don’t-t hit m-e-e!’ “I should have the right, to bash the living shit out of you, you little shit…but since I’m a generous kind of Jester (cough!)ullshit! I’ll reconsider, if you give my mates here and I some money for 20 do(u)g(h)nuts, and a couple of beers each!” ‘I’ll give you anything, just don’t hit me!’…”You win this time, but we want to see you play all requests next time, okay!” Alright he gave us one $100 note unmarked.

MUDBASH: MAFEKING ROVER PARK

SUNDAY 12th June 1994:

Again, I woke up early that morning, about 9:00am, and looked over at Dave, whose mouth was open extremely wide (kind of makes you think what he was doing last night, doesn’t it?!), Suddenly, like the sound of 10,000 church-bells ringing, 20 monks wacking bats against their forehead’s and 2 sumo’s farting at 10G’s…”Your listening to…MUD FM…it’s mud-dy!…Good morning to all you pissed pricks at the greatest Mudbash ever!”…“FUCK OFF YOU IDIOT CAN’T YOU SEE WE’VE GOT A HANGOVER!!” “The following crews are to report to H.Q. immediately…Ken Tickell Rover Crew…and now for some music.”

“You’d better get up here guys, otherwise, your going to be in the shit!” Matt walked up to H.Q. and was informed that our crew KTRC(NG) had to do a garbage run…why?…get this! Matt was selling Toooks (which he made), and Excalibur Rover Crew claimed to know F.A. about it, however Matt had contacted someone earlier and he authorised to sell as many as he wanted, for whatever price he sought fit. The comparison: Matt sold his Toooks for $10 or $15 for 2, where as Excalibur sold their’s for $15 and $25 for 2. A rip-off or what?! I have only one thing to say to Excalibur, “If you guys did the gates at Surfmoot ‘94, your some pretty dead mother-fuckers.” Two words…”Get-a-life!”

CONCLUSION:

So there you go, that’s the basic happenings…but wait there’s still more! The trip home, possibly the highlight of the whole weekend, in the category of laughter & stupidity (things that I am famous for!). Since “Matt had a fight with the ground and the ground won!” and combined with certain eruptions around the arse area, he was not in great condition to drive home, after being informed by Tracey of this, I offered. But Matt wanted to drive home, he said that if “Mr. Poopy pokes his head out for a sniff of jox, he’ll get two great mountains on either side squashing him back in.” Anyway after helping to pack up, Matt said “C’mon Dad lets get goin’.” After a number of kilometres I started cracking some jokes. I don’t know why, but some of them were actually a fucking crack-up. First there was the double-con-caved hill-side, which I thought looked like giant tits, Matt said “Don’t you know, that’s why it’s called Mother Nature” I said “Oh, then that down there (pointing to the opposite side of the road) must be her parted legs and her bush!” Overall, twin peaks of glorious shape and subtle firmness around the thighs area…mmmm thighs mmmm!

Then we were discussing the mutilation (accidentally of course!) of certain quadrupeds and avians. Matt said that Tracey (accidentally) ran over a rabbit on the way up…

It was a dark and stormy night when Tracey was following the dirt-road to Mudbash just 2km from the turn-off. Rather regretting her position as the merciless clouds circled above and the darkness engulfed around her, she battled on like a soldier. When all of a sudden, a cute little white rabbit came hopping out of the bushes about 1km ahead on a 3 km straight. Tracey swerved from side to side but the moronic rabbit followed her lead, it’s red-eyes beaming like molten lava and it’s front legs upheld in a signal which Tracey just worked out to be ‘The Bird’. Surprised at this, Tracey gasped, then slammed her fist against the dashboard and screamed, what seemed a cry in vain. Anger and fury swept through Tracey’s mind like a broom in a hurricane. Her fear was now gripped by the psychopathic intensions that were growing in numbers. She flicked the high-beams on and positioned the car in the direct course of the rabbit. The rabbit just sat and looked on in confusement, it’s impressional face now beginning to decrease in volume and form. Tracey laughed a cheer of pure evil as the car approached its unwilling adversary. With the pedal to the metal, the Speedometer reaching a maximum of 140kph and the rabbits innocent eyes fixed on Tracey as if stunned, she smacked over the rabbit’s head. The last thing she remembers was, the rabbit staring at her with those cute little innocent eyes.

Matt and I were also having a conversation about, how to frighten cows. With fire-crackers up their clackers, the expressions on their faces when the fire-cracker goes “BANG!” and watching them fall over or chase you around the paddocks. In one of my attempts to cheer Matt up, I stuck jelly babies in my nose, ears and mouth. Not long after that, I tried to tell Matt’s fortune with the jelly babies. Jelly babies are a lot like people, they have deformities, they act spastic, they get spastic, they look spastic, they even taste spastic. Delmonty Jelly-babies, THEY LOOK GOOD…THEY TASTE GOOD…THEY ARE GOOD!!! I also attempt to describe the impressions on the jelly babies faces. There’s Dave and his impression of Joan Kirner, there’s Shaddy and his impression of Shaddy!!!

Matt then told me to continue babbling on about any old crap, so as to keep him awake. He sure would’ve been tired. When we got back to Yea, Matt slipped out the van, to choke a darkie, “when he returned to the commentary box that’s when all hell broke loose!” Conversations of all kinds were fling to and fro, from ‘The stimulation of 2D tits compared to 3D tits or even 4D tits’ to ‘The incredible strain a fat person must go through just to squeeze cheese,’ and the devices which could assist in wasted disposal for a fat person, eg. Scaffolding.

But even that’s not the best bit, throwing change at the SES, that’s the best bit! There we were, coming down through Lilydale along Victoria Rd, we found the SES bloke’s and blokette’s out doing what they do best, scumming for money. I sensed Matt’s DVS mind thinking of something, but was not sure what. With the quickness that only Matt could jest, he turned off and headed towards Lilydale-Main Street, then hung a PATCH and headed back. Opening up the dashboard-money box, Matt hastily grabbed a handful of change as we approached the intersection. “Shit! A red light!”. Stopping just in time, Matt gripped the pile of two’s, five’s and ten cent pieces. When the lights turned the peddle hit the metal. With the screaming sound of tyres ripping at the bitchumun, our smiles gradually covering our faces, Matt’s encouragement ie. “Move you fuck’n piece of shit!” and the SES bloke getting even closer, Matt said “Catch this!” as he pelted about fifty coins in his direction. The bloke, surprised at this, sought to collect the lot in his red bucket, only managing to spill all of his other coins all over the middle of the busy road…the last thing we heard was “FUCK!!!” That was a classic.

Then of course there was the incident with the old lady — it really was quite devastating, she nearly wrecked the bull-bar! However it was worth 60 Pts. At last, arriving at the den, I went through all of the most excellent adventures and memories we had at Mudbash ‘94…and said “I don’t want to stop remembering…I’ll add everything which my friends and I have experienced to the MB94 report!!!”

So that is basically all there was at Mudbash. Lastly I’d like to interject a paragraph about my friends, and selfish as it may seem, myself. You may need a paper-bag ready!

Strange; if you don’t plan to pick-up, you do. I found this Mudbash much more fun than 1993 and/or a lot more easier to write about since I took some “supplies” along. I think I’m right when I say that I didn’t have to act like an idiot to get any attention! It took a while to prove myself to the crew/other crews and to find the true me, I found that in a hat; a jester’s hat. With many people coming up to me and saying “Like that’s just totally cool, man!” or “Hey, like, scope out the cloth, man…it’s righteously awesome bud!” a warm feeling of belonging to the crew, I now feel. Upon wearing this identification I actually felt positive vibes as if all those in Rovers are brothers and sisters. Never have I felt such emotion for so many people and especially for those who inspired me, ie. Shaddy, Dave, Dave. M, Tracey, Leitchy, Derek, Muzzle, J.C., but most importantly, Matt. For he was the one who made me what I am today…Dad.

SCORES & SKULLS:

Ken Tickell, Mt. Richie, Bacchanalia Rover Crews & 2 Others

Name: Scores: Skulls: (B)eers/(W)ine/(S)pirits:

A.B. Vow of get naked quickly! 22B, 0W, 0S

Andrea “It’Frack-time!” *SEE KEN* Bubble heads need no alcohol!

Andy “Muzzle” 1 Rubbish Bin, 4 Garbage Bags 9 But there’s still more!

Beef (2 Others #1) Still couldn’t find his root (or penis) A continuously emptyB

Brenda Check the revolving door 90B, 4W, 9S

Cam 90 CD’s, Light-mast A pretend can of B

Dad A skinned rabbit 38B, 0.03W, 3S

Dave 1 Bullbar, 1 Other 42B, 1W, 3S

David M. *SEE MEL #2* Vow of sobriety!

Derek “King Raaaalph!!!” 3 Different female donkeys 0B, 0W, 3S

Glennis 1 Guy Rope 15B, 2W, 1S

Han (Heidi) Everyone!!! 0B, 9W, 24S

Ian “Vow of Sobriety” Maca Himself 2+B, 0W, 0S

J.C. (2 Others #2) *SEE BEEF* I forget!

John A blow-up doll 29B, 0W, 0S

Joycie 2 Bracken Bushes Not enough!

Kathy *SEE CAM* Dunno!

Ken “Doll” Multiple leg massages NO LIMIT…NOT!

Lisa A fruit fly and an apple 0B, 0.25W, 5S

Liz(ard) No Comment! 14B, 0W, 5S

Martine “Short Person” *SEE GLENNIS* 22B, 0W, 2S

Matt “Dad’s Dad” 2 Pencil Sharpeners 2 many factory’s full

Mel #1 Check the counter on the r.door 7B, 0W, 3S

Mel #2 (D.M.’s-babe) Enough! 1 O.J.(S.).

Mr. Gaggs No roots — married 143B, 2W, 0S

Mrs. Gaggs No roots — married 2(0)B, 2W, 0S

Paul “Many Tongues” Leitch 3 Sheep, 1 Fish 25 Slabs (not!)

Roe (Dave.W) A pissed boyfriend 34B, 0W, 1Southern

Rusty “Sponsa” Too old! 2 V-Line trainsB

Shaddy (Shaggy) A man’s leg 21B, 0W, 1S

Sir Bastard Still trying – No virgins 2B found 24B, 0W, 1S

Stewie A pot of stew 19B, 0W, 0S

Tracey “There’s ya name Trace!” *SEE MATT* 14B, 0W, 0S

Trent Self-inflicted, Self-indulged Infinite?!…I don’t think so Tim!

EPILOGUE:

VB MAX:

Froooooaaaarrrr! Ha ha ha!

Seen it

Done it

Smashed it

Fucked it

Whhhhoooooaaaahhhh!

Thrown it

Chucked it

Hurled it

Revelled in it!

(Suddenly, up pops a VB MAX machine and)…..BANG! (goes the button!)

Whoooah!

Never skulled it!

Never got pissed on it!

Nerrrrrrr…..CRUNCH — oof! — Kerthump!

Shoved’em

Fucked’em

Left’em

…errr…Wrecked’em

Aaaarrrrgghhh!

Please remember, don’t drink & drive,

you might hit a bump and spill your drink!

CREDITS/THANX:

Chris “SHADDY” Shadbolt – I O U 9 VB’s (+6 from SM94)

David “Woody” Woods – Thanx for doing the greatest hits

Derek – Thanx for stealing my log!

Ken Tickell Rover Crew (NG) – For…er…getting pissed…yeah!

Kerryn – Hey Kez, how come you’ve got

green eyes?!

Leitchy…again! – Thanx for telling me about the

get a girl tassie-bloke joke.

Liz(ard) – Thanx for stepping on my toes

when dancing at the party site!

Matt “Clumbsy” Mason – Thanx for not shitting your pants

on the trip home!

page DOOD!

“DAD” – Thanx me, you eeediot, for not

writing more notes…doh!

Paul “Ratten Schwans” Leitch – Thanx for the help with the

foreign swear words!

Tracey “Like…yeah!” V.B. – Thanx for the intro. to the J.Hat,

as UNO, I wore it everywhere!

NO ANIMALS WERE KILLED IN THE MAKING OF THIS REPORT

HOWEVER, THEY MAY HAVE BEEN BASHED, KICKED, STABBED, PUNCHED, KNACKERED, BLINDED, PARALYSED, DRAWN & QUARTERED, DECAPPITATED, NUNCHUKED, ROLLED, BARRED, SPIKED, POISONED, BLOWN-AWAY OR TOOTH-PICKED.