Adventures in Maggotland Pt 3 or how Kimmy ruined my life

Hayley reckons Kimmy is in a league of her own and I would have to agree. I don't know her very well but she did, on one fateful night, ruin my life. And this is the story of how she did it.

Those who know me can testify that I am a bit of a Nick Cave fan. In fact to say I have been a lifelong, slavish devotee is probably to put it mildly. I have literally lost count of the times I have seen him live but when a gig featuring Grinderman and Nick Cave was announced for ole Radelaide I snapped up a ticket pronto. Hayley and I were most excited about the whole affair and we organised to hook up with a few friends at the venue; the dread Kimmy was amongst them. It is probably best to be honest at this stage: Kimmy is a bogan. Yes indeedy, Kimmy is a flat out, full on, first class bogan. A flashing her tits, flashing her gash kinda bogan. Which is actually pretty fucking funny most of the time. But there is a time and place for the practices of boganism and Thebarton Theatre on that balmy evening weren't it!

After a stellar gig Hayley and I were lurking in the bar area when a suitably slobbish roadie asked if we wanted to come backstage and have a drink with the band. What? We couldn't believe it, shit like that didn't happen to us! I started eagerly after the roadie but Hayley hung back, "we have to wait for Kimmy" she declared. A little voice in the back of my excited brain started to nag at that point but I didn't really know how to say "fuck off, that bogan bitch is not coming with us" without offending Hayley. Note to self: always listen to that nagging voice at the back of your excited and alcohol addled brain, it knows a bogan bitch induced disaster when it sees one!

We lined up outside the stage door waiting for the roadie to usher us in. Really I should have just stabbed Kimmy then when she said "I"m going to get Nick Cave to sign my vagina!" It would have averted the whole tragedy. But it was too late, she was amongst our number when the doors opened and we scurried in to the hallowed rooms where 'they' were waiting. 'They' were old Nick himself and Warren Ellis, that wild man of the violin. Hayley and I instinctively decided to play it cool and took seats near the bar, a little away from where old Nick and his accomplice were holding court. Kimmy made a beeline for them and naturally from that point on things went hideously wrong. I thought for a moment I must have been hallucinating on cheap travel sickness pills when I heard Kimmy start to berate them.
"We missed half of Grinderman! I rang the fucking venue today and they said you weren't starting until 8.30pm, then we get here at 8pm and Grinderman are half over. What the fuck's up with that?"
I dived in to try some damage control and put my arm around Kimmy's shoulder to drag her away, "come on Kimmy are you giving people grief again?" But she broke from my grip and continued her chastisement. Nick looked me in the eye -yes people directly in the eye - and his eyes held a message for me. That message was, "who the fuck is this woman?" Who the fuck is she? Well, she's a force of nature, a pariah, a calamity waiting to unfold, a noxious nightmare and an utterly unwanted revelation. She is a harpy, a harridan, a vulture picking at the face of refinement and a thousand other pathetic metaphors dragged from the mind of the pathologically vengeful.

Nick and Warren were very apologetic, "really, the venue said we would be on at 8.30pm? Well we'll just go and check that." And off they went down the corridor. I knew it was the beginning of the end. And so did Kimmy. She came over to where Hayley and I were sitting and said, "well if anyone can piss Nick Cave off it has to be ole Kimmy doesn't it!" Doesn't it just.

The dark duo returned for a short while to pose for some cheesy shots with the punters and then disappeared down that corridor forever. And that was it. My deluded groupie dreams hung in tatters around me. Sure Nick Cave was receding far too much for my liking and Warren Ellis looked like Ned Kelly after ten years in a mental institution but hell I would have fucked them both anyway!! And I would have swallowed gratefully and hand washed the sheets afterward. Do you get the picture?

But no. Kimmy had cast her evil spell and the princes had fled to the comforts of hotel rooms and heroin. Hayley and I emerged in to the car park and left the realms of possibility behind us. I should probably be grateful to Kimmy. I should be grateful to her for saving me from looking like a tragic old groupie. Fuck her.


...tune in again for the next installment as I begin to outline the adventures of the maggotiest madam of them all. Me. We have to take a trip back in time for this, because I can assure you that I have emerged from the larval stage as a temperate type. But in the impending Memoirs of a Teenage Goth I will demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can leave this mob far behind...