Friday, September 15, 2006

This Day In Blog History...

It was one year ago today since this feature first appeared at the Indie website. Ah, memories.

P.S. I added a bit more to the end of "Worms" from a couple a days ago.

Thursday, September 14, 2006


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.

Steve: Really?

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.

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.)

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


September 12, 2006 Worms

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.

(continues song)

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.

Steve: Really.

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.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Men In White Satin

(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
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.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Everybody Wants To Be A Star

From September 8, 2006

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.

Steve: Yeah.

Female caller: So you’re not feeling well today, are you?

Steve: No.

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.

Steve: Really?

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…

Mr. Shovel: (sarcastic) That’ll get ‘em on a bus.