I message Claire with a brevity I hope conjures a sense of espionage. I enjoy these conspiratorial, marital moments.
5.37pm in the TAFE car park.
We meet at precisely this time.
Success! Claire thinks we’re walking. It’s only 750 metres or a ten-minute stroll on this warm afternoon.
So, to continue the mystery, I decide to drive us.
This month’s Mystery Pub is the Crafty Robot, a brewery on Grote Street with a sprawling beer garden and cavernous, concrete interior. Come early evening, we’ll all be in another interior of a cosier nature.
Making her (overdue) Mystery Pub debut, my sister Jill breezes through the gate, and we assemble about an outside table.
Claire volunteers to procure the drinks. Returning, she clasps a white wine, a (0.0%) beer for Jill, and a Blonde Ale (4.5%) for the only non-blonde in our party, me. With sips and nods and brief individual analysis, all are deemed satisfactory.
We chat and eat a shared dinner of deep-dish margherita pizza which has recently transitioned from being a (dysfunctional) quiche. There’s also a plate of indeterminate potato stuff. Inside, a Quiz Night rumbles into animated life. Peering through the glass I see the MC moving about with insistent evangelism. I imagine him asking, ‘On which Beatles’ album does Ringo not play a cowbell?’
We speak of the Fringe and our aspirations. Claire enquires, ‘What are you doing, Jill?’
‘Got a few shows booked. 27 Club (about the musicians like Hendrix and Cobain who all shuffled off at this tender age). One in Stepney too.’
Claire recalls last Saturday’s play in the library. ‘Prometheus was hard work. Youth theatre. After a few minutes I was waiting for it to end.’
I agree. ‘It asked the audience to work too hard.’
Conversation then moves to the immediate for we’re going to the Fringe’s premiere comedy club, the Rhino Room, and specifically its subterranean venue, Hell’s Kitchen.
The fifty-first edition of Mystery Pub concludes. We’ve had a splendid hour.
*
Until Claire was appointed as the Auslan interpreter for Brett Blake’s stand-up show we’d not heard of him. Ambling in, Jill and I have no real expectations but present ourselves with open minds.
Hell’s Kitchen is tiny, the size of an exceedingly modest lounge room. It’s close and hot down there (as befits a venue called Hell) and the stage is only elevated a few inches. It does the trick. Claire’s on a chair to the left of Brett.
You might know BB from his recent appearance in a betting ad with Shaq O’Neill. He clicks up a photo in which he’s standing next to the seven-foot basketballer and is about half his height. Upon shaking his hand Brett describes, ‘My hand got lost in his palm and I didn’t touch one of his fingers.’ This is all context for his main story about being arrested when he was seventeen.
His routine’s about growing up in an outer suburb of Perth (tough) and his homelife (loving), school life (challenging for all) and escapades at large (hilarious and harrowing).
As the show progressed, I formed a view. Blake’s a brilliant writer and storyteller: observant, skilled with language, assured.
I roared like a drain (what does this actually mean?) across the sixty minutes. The highlight was BB talking about cars and youth and motoring perils. Mid-anecdote he said,
‘Jayden? Jayden? Silence. No reply. The nursing home is quiet.’
He continued. ‘This is because in the future there’ll be no Jaydens in nursing homes. Why? Because they’ll all have met their untimely ends. Every Jayden will perish by accident in a shitty old Commodore. No Jayden will live to fifty.’
The room erupts. The truth in it—absurd, yet undeniable—hits us all and there’s bellowing aplenty. It’s dreadful stereotyping (but funny).
Later, I wonder how many ways the mandatory forearm tattoo can be spelled.
Jaden. Jaydon. Jaiden. Jaidyn. Jadyn. Jaidan. Jaydin. Jadin. Jaedon. Jaedyn. Jaydyn. Jeyden. Jadon.
What’s your favourite?
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About Mickey Randall
Now whip it into shape/ Shape it up, get straight/ Go forward, move ahead/ Try to detect it, it's not too late/ To whip it, whip it good
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I am intrigued…there is a Beatles album on which Ringo did not play cowbell??
All questions regarding cowbells & The Beatles should be referred to one Kevin Densley. I believe he has a poem in dedication to & a Grad Dip in the subject.
Smokie and Karl – thanks for this.
Contemplating quiz night questions and my first thought was to go with my all-time favourite being name the Australian Test Cricketer who represented the country in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s and isn’t Allan Border? Answer: Peter Sleep.
I instead decided to invent my own and The Beatles, Ringo and cowbells came to mind. It’s a fictional question although as you suggest Smokie I imagine the answer is none. I’m sure the information is on the internet but am unsure if I want to know. Sometimes it’s good to wander about, oblivious and not knowing if there’s a cowbell-free Beatles’ LP.
I vaguely recall KD’s poem and do recall his songs featuring cowbells post from early last year. Maybe the poet could point me at it. I’m in the can’t have enough cowbell school of modern thought!
Mornin’ Mickey
I most confess my comment that KD has a poem dedicated to cowbells & The Beatles was 100% inspirational. As for his Grad Dip in cowbells & The Beatles, that is honorary of course. I did find his ‘cowbell’ song theme totally fascinating though and I was an active participant.
Like you, I much prefer to not know the answer to every question ever posed. It does make life in the google world much more exciting & dangerous.
****correction**** ‘inspirational’ should read ‘aspirational’; although in some contexts ‘inspirational’ works just fine……
J’dn
Thanks Karl. I’m still resisting the urge to google it.
Nice one Swish. Cheaper too! Is this the name of one of Elon’s kids?
Love your work Mickey.
Some years ago The Monthly magazine ran a pre-season article on names of AFL players or “Ayce names in the AFL”. I don’t know if they still do. These days I don’t subscribe but purchase editions at random times.
In 2013, the writer Peter Cronin highlighted:
“A first name used by ten AFL players in five different ways: Jared, Jarryd, Jarrad, Jarred, Jarrod”.
The 2017 piece by High Robertson mentioned:
“The annual Jarrad census: Jarrad (4), Jarryd (3), Jarrod (5), Jared (1), Sharrod (1), Jarryn (1), Darragh (1)
and
The times, they are a … Brayden (3), Braydon (1), Jayden (3), Hayden (2), Kaiden (1), Aidyn (1)”.
My quick search of the 2025 playlists finds: Braydon (4), Braedon (1) and Jayden (4)
Not sure, as yet, how to interpret this data in terms of the nursing home conclusion.
The 2025 playlists also include 27 players with the first name Jack and enough Zac, Zak or Zacks (11) to buy several beers at pre-decimal currency prices.
Starting to feel a bit jaded.
As an aside, here I am 900km south Brisbane (I googled it!) and it has started to drizzle – I wonder if this is courtesy of TC Alfred and how long this drizzling will last?
Thanks Peter. I recall the (annual) Monthly survey with some affection too. I remember a game in about 2025 when the Saints fielded, I reckon, five players called Jack. Was this a record? Is the collective noun for persons of this name a box? Sorry. Dare I ask what the collective noun might be for Jaydens? A juvie?
Hang in there Karl!
*Saints game was in 2015.
A Jeroboam of Jaydens. Probably not. A Jeroboam of Jezzas more likely.
The collective noun for Jaydens? The answer may be found in that lost verse from Don Morrison’s Grand Junction Road.
I’d be happy with a Wistfulness of Jaydens because if I was named Jayden I’d be wistful
A Jägerbomb of Jaydens? I’ll check with Don when I see him next!