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Waiting to take us away
by Polly Bush
Polly's archive is here.
The last few months leading up to the eye-blink closure of Club Chaos seemed surreal.
PF Journey had sparked a Hair revival while spinning 60s classics at the jukebox, coincidentally gatecrashing Harry’s 40th harbour-side birthday bash.
Along with PF’s DJ-ing, the Club reached to the classics by examining William Shakespeare’s sentiments ‘If music be the food of love, play on’, analysing the sell-out factor of alleviating world poverty.
Well you can tear a plane in the falling rain
While juggling the roles of Resident Door Bitch, Chef, Agony Aunt and Super Nanny, Jack enforced Club Chaos’ Naughty Corner policy, blowing his umpire’s whistle to issue Marilyn with a red card.
Jack, the resident badboy-cum-Russell Crowe of Club Chaos, had decided to help Chief Bartender Kingo in meeting the ever-growing Club Chaos patron demand, as the Chief Bartender wanted more time to mix her own drinks.
Phil, with Terrence’s help, had built a colossal amphitheatre out the back of the pub, hosting an epic style Meaning of Life Olympics.
When not sucked into a PF inspired Leonard Cohen haze or engaging in small talk over the bar, Chief Bartender Kingo read correspondence from the rebels cum political terrorists seeking refuge from John Howard’s Liberal Party.
And so it was that later,
In a way it seemed surreal, but in a way it seemed completely in line with the typical chaotic goings on of Club Chaos.
That is, until the pub’s lease suddenly became an issue.
[insert dramatic clanging piano music … followed by a drum-roll … fade into the Divine Miss M … ]
I once met a man with a sense of adventure
I said "In these shoes?
So we're sitting at a bar in Guadalajara
I said "In these shoes?";
Suddenly it was time for Club Chaos to wrestle the demons of embracing full control and the ghastly unpredictability of the unknown.
Club Chaos humbly began as a one woman operation, with Kingo peddling a mobile beer dispensing glockenspiel, singing tunes about the mysterious goings on of life located somewhere between Sydney and Melbourne.
Over five years the Club had built itself into a community, and like all good pubs it attracted its healthy share of regular patrons, many who stayed on well and truly beyond last drinks. Harry maintained regular status even after his self-imposed exile.
In fact, if anything, last year’s pub renovations meant more people had chosen Club Chaos as their favourite watering hole, arguably for its broad and varied menu and extensive wine list. PF's noodle dishes were fast becoming popular, as was Phil's communion wine, David Roffey's climate enhancing substances and Craig Rowley’s Sobering Back To Reality Pills.
To suddenly uproot and take Club Chaos on the road to find a new home would be a mammoth challenge, and while many in the Club Chaos community seemingly embraced a Taking In To The Streets (TITTS) approach to life, whether the crowd would commute with the Pub’s relocation was always going to be risky.
Plus, the creation of a new kickarse pub meant the crowd would have to gather in temporary digs as the new and improved Club was built.
Yet Kingo had a dream - a field of dreams - that whispered, "if you build it, they will come".
So in chaotic tradition, Club Chaos packed up its bags of essential items (a bean bag or two, Harry’s imported Cosmopolitan mixing ingredients, Polly’s herbal remedies, Kingo's Little Brother Hamish, Jack’s ‘Naughty Corner’ list, PF’s vinyl collection, the refugee family Marilyn was hiding in the attic, a couple of kegs and the Chief Bartender’s durries) and made a run for it, for the magical mystery tour was waiting to take us away.
Waiting to take us away...
I am an angry man yeah
And when the baby cries yeah
But it's all good it's all good
And to survive their sting yeah
But it's all good it's all good