The mighty of Marrickville trembled at the shock police presence at the biannual Ferncourt Fiesta. While concerned parents flitted from bush to bush around the bowling green, hedonistic dancing continued unabated inside.
Whether the police were unwilling to overturn the Greens (at great cost to the public purse) so soon after an election, or simply overwhelmed by the spirited dancing on display, we can not be certain. A young policewoman was heard muttering “HRT” into her radio.
The Concordia Club were bemused at this turn of events. Mein host, prominently bandaged, asked, “But aren’t the children proud of these parents?” He asked if Ferncourt is “some kind of special school? To have such parents!”. We were able to assure him that Ferncourt is indeed special.
The staff of the Concordia greatly enjoyed the evening, dancing merrily to and fro in traditional dirndls carrying plates of schnitzel and sausage. At times they themselves were mistaken for the entertainment and indeed they did join in to several performances. But this is only to be expected at a club with such impeccably maintained grottoes.
Celebrity choir. Top comperes. Sublime crooning. Sex on legs dancers. But the incomparable act of the evening was the gestalt performance, reminiscent of the Warhol era and preempting punk, when Colin the Whale stormed the stage.
No surprise that beneath the bejewelled and bedazzled costume of Colin the Whale, channelling Marc Bolan in the glory days of T-Rex, was glam man about radio, Tom Morton.
Pithy unspoken comments about gender roles and the fate of women in the rhetoric of the left abounded as Colin the whale changed to Colleen while being relentlessly pursued by National Parks and Wildlife. The green credentials of NPWS fell apart in Andra Keay’s Dionysian charade of “Green Pieces”.
The piece de resistance was the rampart storming Eurydice Aroney, who as a Greek Goddess enhanced with Japanese technology, prevailed where the Greens failed. Whether she humanely rescued Colin the Whale from a life of sentimental subjectivity or impaled him upon the female perspective is left to the audience to decide.
But the last words were all Tom Morton’s, “Itadakimasu!”
Meaning “Thank you for the food I am about to eat!” this epitomised the subtlety and sheer halucinogenic beauty of this all too brief performance piece.
The Fiasco audience roared their approval and voted “Colin/Colleen the Whale” the Fiasco winners! Back stage there were wild celebrations as Michael, Geoff, Sharon and KerrieJean realised that they had launched a phenomenon.
Not content with recently launching her own blog, Radio National’s KerrieJean was swift to see the potential of the evening. “I’d like to launch a little song that Big Swifty and I have been working on”, she announced, as the strains of “Geez I feel like a root” filled the dance floor.
On the way home, the headlights swang like pearls.