I just received word from Chris! His return home has been delayed and he will be back sometime next week FYI.
"We're the fellas in the dust bin"
September 13, 2006 Hairy Man
(after the opening theme ends, the first thing we hear is Steve playing “No Future” on guitar and harmonica. Mr. Shovel asks him how Bob Dylan would sing it and of course Steve indulges him with his impression of Dylan singing GSTQ)
Steve: I had to remove five jackabites from my MySpace this morning. Why don’t these people learn? I specifically say, “You put me in your Top 8 forever, or you will be banished”.
Mr. Shovel: By the way, I started up my own MySpace for my show and you still haven’t approved me to be your friend.
Steve: You have?
Mr. Shovel: Mmm hmm.
Steve: You know, I’ve got a thousand people pending requests for friends.
Mr. Shovel: Maybe I don’t want to be your friend.
Steve: Well, that’s alright with me. The only way I’m gonna let you be a friend is if you keep coming back and saying some reasons why you want to be me friend. Now just randomly just want to be your friend and then sit there. I’m not into the numbers games. I have less than five hundred friends. I’ve removed three thousand friends.
Mr. Shovel: Do I need to keep coming back and…
Steve: No, I just…what’s the picture look like on yours?
Mr. Shovel: Me, playing the melodica.
Mr. Shovel: Um hmm.
Steve: I didn’t see that. When was this?
Mr. Shovel: Few days ago.
Steve: I’ll have to have a look, Shovel. I normally only look if it’s like…
Mr. Shovel: Hot birds.
Steve: If it’s a striking picture. It doesn’t have to be a bird.
Mr. Shovel: It’s a pretty good one.
Steve: Yeah? Let’s have a look. Get it up on that ole piece of plastic over there.
(sings) No future No MySpace for Mr. Shovel No I don’t want to be your friend On MySpace Mr. Shovel You can take your Check One Two And shove it (this cracks Mr. Shovel up and they both laugh)
Steve: You got the picture there? (pause) I didn’t see that picture.
Mr. Shovel: I sent it from my Helio.
Steve: You need something more striking than that, mate. That just looks like a piece of red…stuff dunnit.
Mr. Shovel: That’s what it is.
Steve: But it could be anything. You should have a logo saying “Check One Two” or something that’s striking. There’s too many people that put pictures there of like, rocks. You know what I mean? Or you know, a bleedin’ tree. You just don’t even look at ‘em. Something’s got to catch you eye with your picture.
Mr. Shovel: How about if I put my cleavage on there?
Steve: That would help. That would help, mate. You know what I do to torture people if I’m on their Top 8? I got this picture of this hairy bloke. He looks like a Persian dude. He’s lying on a bed, naked on his…so you see his ass and his back and he’s like, covered in hair. I like putting that picture up there.
Mr. Shovel: It’s probably a closer representation than the picture you have up there now.
Steve: Ayyyy. I changed it…I put the clown back, the jester. Got any ideas for songs? I wish I had an idea for a song.
Mr. Shovel: I was quite content with the Dylan.
Steve: You liked that? What about Hairy Man? This is always a good one to play, the chords. The “Drive” song, by The Cars? Can’t beat ‘em.
You hairy sod How did you get so hairy Is it something that you eat Or does it just run in your family
You really don’t need to wear clothes In the winter Cos it looks like you’re wearing A mohair jumpsuit
You don’t even need A thing to sleep on Cos you look like The Sherwood Forest
You hairy sod How’d you get so hairy Did you have it off with A girl named Mary
And I know that you can Go to a place and get it waxed off But it’s quite painful At first
You almost bleed I tried it once when I was into Body building
You hairy sod Oh you hairy sod
Who’s gonna wax your back tonight You can’t go on You hairy sod
Who’s gonna wax your back When he calls Who’s gonna shave your nuts When he falls
You can’t go on Thinking the hair’s all gone Who’s gonna wax your back tonight -not me!
Who’s gonna shave you down when you fall What are we gonna do with all that hair now that it’s gone I could make a cushion out of it or I could feed some poor people Who’s gonna wax your back when you fall
(The latter part of the song is was interspersed with Mr. Shovel's sound effects that simulate the ripping sound of the hair waxing process, some sort of electrical equipment and the anquished outcries of out host. The End.)
Steve: I dunno what’s going on, but in my garage this morning I noticed that worms go in there to die. What is going on? Is it like, the season of…worms killing themselves or something? Do they have like, an end of a life and then they kind of, go somewhere to die? What is that with worms?
Mr. Shovel: It’s a spiritual thing…
Steve: I mean, literally. I mean outside the garage there’s like grass and that where they probably come out of right? But they all go into the garage. I see ‘em like you know, worming their way in there and then they curl up and just die.
Mr. Shovel: Maybe they’re not going there to die, but they do because there’s no dirt there.
Steve: No, but their instinct would tell them to stay in the dirt if they wanted to stay in the dirt. I don’t understand it. There’s literally like, twenty worms in there. Just, just…they go in there.
Mr. Shovel: And where do they come from?
Steve: Well, I guess they come in out of the grass.
Mr. Shovel: Did you put some kind of chemicals on your grass?
Steve: You know what? I think the gardener, cos my grass was dying so he put all this stuff down. He put all this stuff down to…
Mr. Shovel: So they’re fleeing, actually.
Steve: Well, they hardly “flee” cos they’re worms and they’re very slow.
Mr. Shovel: Right, but they’re fleeing the best they can to get to a safe place and they couldn’t make it across the Death Valley of your garage.
Steve: You know they don’t have legs, worms.
Mr. Shovel: Exactly.
Steve: Nor bones. Did you know that? They’re boneless.
Mr. Shovel: Mm hmm. Like a filet.
Steve: They just kind of…how do they move, they kind of use muscle I guess. They’re just one muscle and they just kind of worm their way across…aw, that’s too bad. Yeah, cos he put all this stuff down to try and make the grass grow cos it was kind of not happening.
Mr. Shovel: Grass needs worms, though.
Steve: I’ll bet it must be the chemicals. That’s why they’re all coming in the garage. Aw. What should I do? It’s a bit late, now. I think they’re all dead. All twenty of them. I’m saddened now.
Mr. Shovel: At least your grass is going to be green, Steve.
Steve: Well it doesn’t look like it’s doing…
Mr. Shovel: Mister Green. (laughs)
Steve: I do think green.
Mr. Shovel: I know.
Steve: It’s weird. I’m going to have to have a word with him. Couldn’t he put down some anti worm-killing stuff to make the grass…
Mr. Shovel: Well you could put manure down there but then it’s going to stink.
Steve: I actually don’t mind the smell of manure, like, horse manure. I actually like that smell for some weird reason. It reminds me of farms. I like farms.
Mr. Shovel: That would be more eco-friendly.
Steve: I’ll have to have a word with him. Should I do a song?
Mr. Shovel: Ode to your worms.
Steve: Do a song about worms? Okay. Poor worms. Let me think…
Worms slimy little creatures They’ve all tried to escape Out of the grass Poor little worms
They’ve got nowhere to go They’ve been hoed Now they’ve got to go To worm heaven
With all the other little worms And all the other creatures From big to small Big to small
I must confess I kill ants Especially when they come inside And get into your Weetabix
They really make a mess Of everything they touch But I do enjoy spraying them with stuff And watching ‘em Watching ‘em run for help
Poor little ants The ants do actually eat the worms
Steve: They were all on one of them the other day. He couldn’t get away. That’s why they go in the garage, to get away from the ants, I’ll bet.
The ants and worms are having a war But it looks like the little ants Gang up on ze worms
Poor ants Poor worms They’re all creatures God’s creatures Yes they are
But it’s the survival of the fittest And if you can’t take the chemicals Then get out the grass
Poor little creatures You’ve got to get better brains You’ve got to go to school Like everybody else
So you’ll know what to do In sticky situations
Let’s play some rock and roll, Mr. Shovel.
~~~ ~~ ~~
(after a set of songs)
Steve: All dead worms, come to the vestibule immediately. We will clean you of chemicals and put you back in the green grass.
Poor worms. They didn’t mean any harm to anyone. They don’t hurt anybody. Although they do…they eat us when we die, so they do have the last laugh. Unless you…want to avoid that, then you get cremated. So if you don’t want to be eaten by worms…
Mr. Shovel: So they’re really at the end of the food chain.
Steve: Yeah. They eat the human flesh and all the ‘balming fluids. What is ‘balming fluid? Why do they do that? Do we look that bad when we die that they have to kind of put make-up on us?
Mr. Shovel: I don’t know.
Steve: What would you do, Shovel? Out of choice, when you die, what would be prefer? To be ‘cinerated or buried?
Mr. Shovel: Well, because my family would be prefer it, I’m going to be buried.
Mr. Shovel: I don’t really care. But they need that, you see?
Steve: Yeah. I would rather be burnt cos I don’t like going underground. I get claustrophobic and my soul might not get out of there if it’s buried down underneath. Cos you never know. You might you know, like people say you come back in a different life? Can you imagine if you kind of, come-to, and you’re buried?
Mr. Shovel: What if you came back as a worm, eating yourself?
Steve: It’s a whole vicious cycle we live in. I don’t understand life, or death actually. None of it means anything to me. Why am I here? I know what makes sense, though. Let’s go and visit The Duke.
(Steve has just finished the whistle and announced the winner)
Steve: The song that I was singing was a song that should be banned worldwide but, I dunno why but it just came to my head. Probably heard it about fifteen years ago and the memory bank dialed it in this morning and I just kind of figured it out, it’s pretty easy. It’s one of the medieval songs innit, kind of medieval. Frilly shirts and tight pants on. I don’t have it with me…
Mr. Shovel: (in background) Damn.
Steve: …but I can do my rendition of it, see what happens.
Nights in white satin Never meeting again I’d like to smash your head in Whoever wrote this song
It’s so medieval it sounds like Stonehenge Sling a bone to the doggie The one who’s at the end of the big table In the castle
Cos I love you Love you yes I love you Oh, I love you yes, medieval man
Man with hay around your feet who invented the wheels who raised the taxes who lowered the drawbridge
The poor old peasants left ‘em with nothing just for the fat old king who got mega-gout from rich foods and drinking too much port
but I love you love you yes I love you oh, I love you oooh I love you
Nights in white satin They’re awful sheets Have you ever slept in satin sheets You slide right out of bed
I hear the brothers like the satin sheets I have no reason why I’d rather a hundred percent cotton They’re much better on my skin
Who buys satin sheets I’d like to know who But I’m partial to purple
I’ve lost my train of thought
I’m a knight who wears satin I’m funny that way I like men who wear satin too We have a right old laugh
(He cracks himself up, Mr. Shovel can be heard laughing in background)
Steve: Oh, I can’t take it anymore. Ooh, send that song to the graveyard. It’s already in the graveyard, innit? Men In White Satin…
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ (later in the show)
Guys in tight satin They like to have a laugh Where can I get some white satin I wanna be like the other guys
I love guys in white satin They really move my Knob I’m looking for some fellas That don’t mind having a laugh In the bushes bushes Ohh, the bushes Ohh the bushes In the park In the lavatory
You know what I’m talking about Guys in tight satin Jason king, yeaaahhhh
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ (still later in the show)
Guys in white panties Never need no friends They get what they ask for They like things that bend
Blokes in white panties – pantaloons Never needing no friends They’d better watch out now cos they’re gonna get a good kicking
And I love them Lord knows I love them Yes guys in white panties Blokes in white pantaloons
Steve: Oh, I feel a little better. Cheered meself up.
Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s five after twelve bells. I feel like I'm getting something, like some flu or something. It’s a little scratchy thing in me throat…I feel weak. (plays “No Future” on guitar for a few moments, it sounds Beatle-y) Um, what’s happening today? Anything happening?
Mr. Shovel: Well, we have tickets for Jeff Beck.
Steve: Oh, alright, Jeff Beck. Oh actually I bought a Jeff Beck…(he is interrupted by the ring of his cell phone, he answers it) Hello.
Female caller: (slightly audible in background) Hey, Jonesy.
Female caller: So you’re not feeling well today, are you?
Female caller: What’s going on?
Steve: I’ll talk to you in a bit, I’m on the radio.
Female caller: Okay.
Steve: (sounds like he cut her off) Imbecile. I think these people just want to be heard, go to any lengths. Could you hear their voice?
Mr. Shovel: Yeah. She obviously just heard you say you’re not feeling well and so she called.
Steve: Right. Ah, that makes a lot of sense.
Everybody is a star Everybody wants to be a star Oh everybody wants to be a star Everybody wants to be a star
If everybody was a star There would be no such thing As stars If we all were stars It would defeat the purpose That’s why they are stars Cos there’s only a few
There’s no room for you To be a star It’s just for me and people like me You’ll never ever make it You ain’t got what it takes But you think you do
You bleedin losers There’s no room for you On this roster Oh you poor sods Just keep on trying
Steve: Go on Shovel, say something. You look like you’ve got this…like you want to have a poo.
Mr. Shovel: You sound like my dad.
Steve: What does he say?
Mr. Shovel: Pretty much what you’re saying.
Mr. Shovel: Yeah.
Steve: Oh, cos he’s a…
Mr. Shovel: Well, he’s not a star, but…
Steve: He’s a meteorologist, star guy, right?
And stargazers are better than star searchers We gaze into the eyes of the stars For no real purpose
You want to look at the monkeys in the zoo And the giraffes on the safari And the elephants and their tusks And the crocodiles and they all Are stars in their own right and zoo ooh-ooh-ooh-oooh
we’re all stars shining down shine on down shine on down shine on down shine on down ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ (after the first set of songs)
Steve: …and before that was David Bowie, “Prettiest Star”. That’s for all you ones trying so hard to be famous. In the land that’s drawn you to this place called Hollywood, Tinsel Town…drawn like a magnet to a piece of lead…drawn you in and then spits you out to become prostitutes. Destitutes. Go back home to Idaho (with a) big “L” on your forehead. “I never made it! I’m gonna pick corn now for the rest of my life. Potatoes. Combine harvesters. Losers. Don’t even attempt to be a star. You’ll never amount to nothing! Do you understand how difficult it is to be famous? Very difficult. But…maybe I could help you, in a kind of a way…I have many powers. And I’m not talking to the men, either. Maybe I could help you get a part…