Legal Reforms And Thieving Playwrights: The Fifth And Final Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Dialogues

Here it is. The fifth and final transcripts of my ASIO files I have received. I live in hope perpetual hope that one day it will be revealed ASIO recorded something, anything I did that was not in a pub with fucking Leslie.

Unfortunately, the last installment features me in a pub with that goddamn cad. Oh well. I publish it here only due to my unfaltering commitment to truth and transperency. You should probably read the others or you'll be totally lost.

* * *

A pub.

[10:01AM, FRIDAY, [REDACTED]. CARLO, WHO HAS BEEN WAITING OUTSIDE THE [REDACTED] HOTEL FOR SOME TIME, IS FINALLY ADMITTED WHEN IT OPENS. A COUPLE OF MINUTES LATER, LESIE JOINS HIM AT A TABLE.]

CARLO: [gulping beer] Christ I needed this!

LESLIE: Court case not going well?

CARLO: Did you know it is actually illegal to kill someone?

LESLIE: I’d heard that.

CARLO: Even if the bastard had it coming?

LESLIE: The nanny state is out of control.

CARLO: That's what is wrong with the modern world! It’s all stick, no carrot! Rather than threatening people with jail, they should reward us if we refrain from slaughtering some goddamn prick who was begging for a machete to the skull!

LESLIE: It’s an interesting idea for reform.

CARLO: Like, well done! You went a whole week without slaughtering a single arsehole! Have some cake! It's your favourite, strawberry cheesecake with cream and chocolate sprinkles!

LESLIE: Have you considered writing to the government about this?

CARLO: OH YET AGAIN IT IS UP TO ME TO COME WITH ALL THE IDEAS! Yet I never get any fucking credit! Like that whole Bill Shakespeare debacle!

LESLIE: You were quite upset when he nicked your stuff.

CARLO: “To be, or not to be, THAT is the question!” My greatest line! No idea what it means, I was smashed when I gave that speech.

LESLIE: Yes, you jumped up on the tavern table and started banging on about slings of fortune and dreams of mortal coils. The scrumpy round Stratford-Upon-Avon was pretty potent in those days. Still, I think Bill’s best steal was that graveyard scene in Hamlet with all those skeletons. You couldn’t accuse him of ripping you off without incriminating yourself! Genius!

CARLO: A talentless hack. Christ, once he read me something he actually wrote himself! Some drivel about some Scottish king. I mean, as if anyone wants to go to the theatre to see a story about a fucking Scotsman! It’s not decent. I assume that play at least bombed and fell into obscurity?

LESLIE: Well asides from being one of the most performed plays ever and on all school curriculums, it's been pretty much totally forgotten.

CARLO: Thank christ! It was horrible, asides from those bits he got me to write with all the murder and bloodshed. Tell me the bit where the Scottish king blows Duncan’s heads off with a hand-held rocket launcher and his brains splatter EVERYWHERE made it to the final cut?

LESLIE: Yeah, that's totally there. I mean a lot of that stuff is taken out or downplayed in the arty stagings coz they say they want to focus on the "human story" and "social relevance".

CARLO: THE HAND-HELD ROCKET LAUNCHER IS TOTALLY SOCIALLY RELEVANT! FUCKING HIPSTERS ARE DESTROYING CLASSIC WORKS OF ART!

LESLIE: To be honest, as a particularly subtle piece of social satire, I fear the nuances of that scene are beyond the average English literature professor.

CARLO: Typical! Still, I have more ideas where they came from! Like my brilliant new idea for a TV show! It’s about this cool guy who drinks all the time and is a total hero and has awesome cheekbones and he goes around killing motherfucking scum and everyone thinks he is GREAT and they make him their overlord and he is called “Carlo”! I think there’s a big market for it.

LESLIE: It ... might work.

CARLO: Of course, it needs dramatic tension and conflict, so there’ll be a character called “Leslie” who hangs around being annoying and getting in the way.

LESLIE: I am assuming this all takes place in a pub?

CARLO: Of course! I can’t save the world while SOBER! Christ. Speaking of which...

LESLIE: Actually, it’s your shout.

CARLO: What? MY shout??? Jesus christ. Moralistic judges, thieving playwrights and now SOME PRICK expecting ME to buy beer! FUCK THIS! [stands up] I'M ACTUALLY GOING HOME NOW!

LESLIE: I guess we have been here a while.

CARLO: But....[starts to fall and steadies himself on the table] ... maybe ONE more whiskey.

LESLIE: I guess one more couldn't hurt...

[THE REMAINDER OF THIS TRANSCRIPT APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN DELIBERATELY DESTROYED. INVESTIGATIONS REVEAL THE [REDACTED] HOTEL NO LONGER EXISTS AND ALL REFERENCES TO ITS FATE ARE HIGHLY CLASSIFIED.]


‘You'd better hope and pray that you make it safe...back to your own world!’ Shakespear’s Sister’s hit single ‘Stay’ is *yet another* example of artists ripping off Carlo Sands. 

The soundtrack to the five installments can be heard as a YouTube playlist because of course it can.

Whiskey, Duels To The Death, Abs And Bushranging: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Dialogues Pt 4

Well, I finally got my fourth installment of my ASIO files today. Once more it appears to me sitting in a pub with Leslie. This is getting ridiculous, I swear I’ve done other things in recent years.

Anyway, you probably need to read the first three installments coz otherwise you'll be totally lost as this series is a really complex, with many characters whose stories intertwine as the tale unfolds and features lots of plot twists and you wouldn't want to be lost because then what would you have to talk about tomorrow at work? HUH? Enjoy it because there is only one more to come.

***

A glass of whiskey. In a pub.

[10.47AM, THURSDAY [REDACTED], CARLO AT [REDACTED] HOTEL LOOKING MORE DISHEVELED THAN USUAL AFTER THE REVELRY OF PART THREE. LESLIE JOINS HIM 15 MINUTES LATER.]

LESLIE: [chewing] Hmmm … You know, croissants are awesome. They're basically made of butter, but then you put more butter on them! And you can't put too much on! No matter how much you put on, you can keep adding more! They're like a bardis.

CARLO: That’s nice. I bought you a whiskey. Here, drink this lovely glass of the “water of life” as it translates from Irish!

LESLIE: You… bought me a drink?

CARLO: Yes! I have a stiff whiskey for you right here! Christ man, you don't drink it I will, poison or no... ah... or NO poison as there ISN'T any poison in it! HAHAHA! Just drink the fucking whiskey.

LESLIE: You’re still bitter about this whole “me winning the duel to the death” thing aren’t you?

CARLO: No! Of course not! Jesus! Hell, OK ... thank fuck I’ve accumulated a tolerance to all major poisons over the years … [skulls the whiskey]. That hit the spot.

LESLIE: Where did you even get the money for that whiskey?

CARLO: Oh, I ... borrowed it. By the way you might want to avoid the gents for a bit, it’s a little ... bloody in there.

LESLIE: You know, I’ve put up with a lot over many millennia, but trying to poison a friend is a bit rough.

CARLO: FRIEND? YOU FUCKING BEAT ME IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH!

LESLIE: You know, I’ve actually had people question whether you’re truly dead. It's quite insulting, because it is very poor form to claim victory in a duel on a questionable outcome. If there’s one thing that we both agree on, it’s the need to maintain the fundamental dignity of a duel.

CARLO: And that all duels must be carried out without pants. The two essentials.

LESLIE: Absolutely. What are you doing?

CARLO: What? Just admiring my abs.

LESLIE: You have abs?

CARLO: Of course I do! They’re as hard as a bag of marshmallows! I’ve spent a heaps of other people's money on beer to get them this way. This stomach is a work of art! I’m going into business to sell my secrets to the perfect belly.

LESLIE: You’re advertising now? Implausible testimonials and claims that “you too can achieve these amazing results” by following Dr Sands' exclusive program? No one can possibly believe you can achieve your impressive results without some serious hard work.

CARLO: I don’t offer instant overnight success! I always tell people, you gotta work at it, you gotta constantly be drinking beer, eating crap food, sitting down seven-days-a-week, 52-weeks-a-year, 10-years-a-decade, 10-decades-a-century-or-until-the-liver-fails. Don't expect that you can do it a couple of days and the rest of the week be out there at the gym, eating fucking tofu and necking mineral water! I say “THIS IS SERIOUS! SO GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!”

LESLIE: Speaking of daylight robbery, I was just reading an article about old Moondyne Joe. You remember, the bushranger? I’m surprised nobody's made the connection between you and Moondyne. Like, they think he just ended up that insane on his own?

CARLO: Moondyne Joe? Western Australia's best known bushranger?

LESLIE: Yeah.

CARLO: Born poor in Cornwall, became a petty criminal who was transported to Australia in 1852 where he took up bushranging and became famous for his many escapes from jail?

LESLIE: Yeah. Ol' Joey.

CARLO: Never heard of him. [hissing] FOR FUCK’S SAKE THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE!

LESLIE: Oh, yeah sorry.

CARLO: Anyway, I was on a surfing holiday in Hawaii at the time. [hissing] FUCK man… SHUT UP!

LESLIE: Yes… [starts humming a random tune in a bid to nochalantly change the topic] Hey, have you ever been singing to yourself, and then you get so irritated you call the cops on you to shut yourself up?


CARLO: You’re not drunk enough. Otherwise you'd be pushing yourself shouting “come on you bastard, you know the words COME ON! [singing badly]‘I MET MY LOVE BY THE GASWORKS WALL, DREAMED A DREAM BY THE OLD...’” then you’d pass out. That’s how I do it. Here, I'll show you...


[REST OF FILE REDACTED.]





‘I’ll chop you down, like an old dead tree...’ Fucking poetry! Stay tuned for the final, fifth installment!

On Life Goals, Sacking Jerusalem and Never Conquering Persia: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Part 3

OK, this is the third installment of my ASIO files, and I have to admit, but now I was starting to see a certain trend. Apparently the only thing ASIO care about is recording me in some pub with the cad Leslie. FINE! We can only hope the remaining two installments provide us with something of actual interest.

You can read the fucking thing below, though I should warn you should probably read the previous two installments as this is a pretty linear, plot-driven series and you might otherwise get lost.

* * *

A pub.

[10:10AM. WEDNESDAY, [DATE REDACTED]. CARLO MEETS LESLIE AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL.]

CARLO: I gotta hand it to you. You finally came through with a beer! And it tastes pretty sweet!

LESLIE: Yeah, I found it in the hand of this passed-out guy in the beer garden. It was pretty much full too, just had to wipe a bit of his vomit off.

CARLO: Well... cheers!

[Two glasses are clinked]

CARLO: I still haven’t forgiven you though.

LESLIE: [sipping beer] Hmmm?

CARLO: You know why.

LESLIE: What?

CARLO: YOU FUCKING BEAT ME IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH! I AM NOW DEAD!

LESLIE: You're still going on about that? You challenged me to a duel to the death because I had “insulted your honour” by failing to buy you another beer, declaring that you “demanded satisfaction”.

CARLO: My reputation as a gentleman was at stake!

LESLIE: So I chose aging as my weapon. State of your liver’s so bad, you can barely drink a ginger beer without falling over.

CARLO: And it was with such innocence I took that Facebook quiz “When will you die”! I still remember the result... October 21, 2008. It was only when you OH-SO-HELPFULLY pointed out it was already 2009 that the truth struck me... I was dead!

LESLIE: How do you think I felt? Being the slayer of Carlo Sands after all those millennia, when so many angry mobs and enraged bartenders had failed! Every cowboy in the known universe wants a crack at me! I had three assassination attempts on the walk here just this morning! Luckily, those Tai Kwon Do lessons have proven handy.

CARLO: YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU MURDERED ME WITH A FACEBOOK QUIZ! Jesus. Now my beer's empty. Just coz I’m dead doesn’t mean I am NOT THIRSTY!

LESLIE: I’m right ahead of you. I saved you this one from the table next to the passed out guy. This bloke had actually thrown up right into the schooner, but I borrowed a sift from the pub kitchen and I think I got all the chunks out.

CARLO: Ah! You’re alright! You might be a murdering bastard, but this beer is going down gre... [chokes loudly] AARGH!

LESLIE: Sorry, must have missed a bit.

CARLO: [coughs it out] I hate pineapple!

LESLIE: I know you are upset at being dead...

CARLO: The hangovers are even worse!

LESLIE: … but just think of what you achieved with your life! The discovery of fermented fruit, the invention of human sacrifice, the sack of Jerusalem ...

CARLO: Twice!

LESLIE: Three times. That was you with the Assyrians, wasn’t it? 8th century BC?

CARLO: Oh yeah, I had forgotten that one. I was pretty drunk.

LESLIE: And of course the Black Death!

CARLO: Ha! My most successful practical joke.

LESLIE: A third of Europe dead! Your proudest moment.

CARLO: I suppose I did achieve a few things. But I never conquered Persia!

LESLIE: Not the Alexander the Great thing again...

CARLO: The bastard left without me!

LESLIE: He couldn’t get you out the pub when it was time to go!

CARLO: It was happy hour! And that pub band was going off! Still I have to say, their version of “Dirty Old Town” was pretty shit. I kept shouting at them to play that poetic yet gritty take on life in a post-war northern English industrial town... but they just kept saying “It’s the 4th Century BC, what the fuck’s a gas works wall?” I had to put my machete right into their faces and scream “PLAY IT YOU PRICKS!”

LESLIE: Brave effort, though. And Alexander got his come-uppence. You never told me how you ended up in Babylon that night, but I'd recognise your handiwork anywhere.

CARLO: I guess you’re right. I have achieved a lot! Come on, you murderous bastard, another drink to celebrate!

LESLIE: I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.

[FROM THIS POINT ON, NO FURTHER CLEAR DIALOGUE CAN BE DISCERNED FROM THE RECORDINGS. AT ONE POINT, IT APPEARS THEY COULD BE ATTEMPTING TO SING THE IRISH FOLK BALLAD “THE FIELDS OF ATHENRYE”, OR POSSIBLY SOMEONE IS ASSAULTING A POSSUM.]



‘Against the famine and the Crown, I rebelled, they cut me down...' It is unclear if this was what the ASIO transcript captured or if a marsupial was being tortured. Stay tuned for more!

On Redheads, Cycling And The Welsh: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Part 2

Yes it is what you have ALL been waiting for, without consciously knowing you were -- I have received the SECOND installment of my ASIO files, which I dutifully publish below, believing, as I do, in the principle of full transparency.

You should read the FIRST post on this, otherwise you simply won't have any clue what is going on. It follows directly on and it seems to me these security pricks have some sort of fetish with recording me in a pub with a bastard called "Leslie". Christ only knows why.

* * *

A pub.

[10.12AM, TUESDAY [DATE REDACTED] CARLO ARRIVES AGAIN AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL JUST AFTER OPENING AND SITS WITH LESLIE AND STARTS DRINKING.]

CARLO: [sighs] Jesus.

LESLIE: Legal system bringing you down?

CARLO: Did you know they make you wear pants in court?

LESLIE: So I hear.

CARLO: Fucking fascism.

LESLIE: Your court case. It’s not the “killing redheads” thing again is it?

CARLO: Oh, no.

LESLIE: Coz they can’t usually survive in the environs north of Melbourne any way. And those redheads that do make it to adulthood have to stay indoors and move about through sewers.

CARLO: Sure that’s not vampires?

LESLIE: No, they are similar only vampires are more fundamentally moral. I should know, my own brother is beset with the redhead malady so I’ve always had to stay sharp and keep on top of their behaviours.

CARLO: YOU’RE RELATED TO ONE???

LESLIE: Yeah. So there's the whole thing where I carry the abomination in my blood too, but refuse to succumb. Like Blade.

CARLO: That’s some heavy shit, man. It’s such a controversial topic. Did you know some people actually consider it racist to kill a redhead?

LESLIE: That’s political correctness gone mad.

CARLO: I won't even kill them these days. It’s an OHS thing. You get all that infected blood on you and it takes forever to scrub off. It’s not like normal blood, it clings to the skin, like a worse-smalling napalm. I tell local councils they gotta do their own cleansing operations.

LESLIE: Fair enough too. Shit, what’s the time? I gotta get home to watch the Tour de France.

CARLO: The WHAT???

LESLIE: The cycling.

[pause]

CARLO: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO NEVER MENTION THAT TWO-WHEELED DEVIL SPORT EVER AGAIN!

LESLIE: Yeah but that’s only coz you still can’t do it.

CARLO: I TOOK ALL THE SAME DRUGS AS LANCE ARMSTRONG! ALL THAT HAPPENED WAS I FELL OFF MY BIKE!

LESLIE: You shouldn’t have mixed it with all that red wine.

CARLO: That is where I usually go wrong with drugs. The point is WHERE IS MY BEER? YESTERDAY YOU PROMISED ME A FUCKING BEER!

LESLIE: Yeah, but ... the thing is..

CARLO: WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?

LESLIE: I’m broke. I can’t afford beer. I just said that to shut you up. Now I really gotta get home for the cycling...

CARLO: THIS IS JUST LIKE THE SIEGE OF TROY ALL OVER AGAIN!!!

LESLIE: No, come on … the siege of Troy is a very sensitive issue for me.

CARLO: Oh “come on Carlo, go invade Troy!” you said. “There is this girl named Helen held captive and she is the most beautiful woman ever,” you said. “I swear she's the one! Please Carlo, go and liberate her and I’ll BUY YOU A BEER!” you said. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO BUILD THAT GIANT WOODEN HORSE!

LESLIE: Yeah well, I couldn’t have known she’d go running back to Menelaus. Never seemed a happy marriage. Still, it really didn’t help that the few times I got Helen alone, you invariably burst in shouting “where is my fucking beer!”

CARLO: What a great question! WHERE IS MY FUCKING BEER, RICHMOND?!

LESLIE: I was depressed by the Helen thing! It was a hard time for me! I dedicated myself to wearing black and listening to The Smiths, but black wasn't in fashion and The Smiths weren’t invented until 1983. It was a really hard few thousand years.

CARLO: WHERE. THE FUCK. IS. MY. BEER.

LESLIE: I can’t afford it.

CARLO: YOU LIED TO ME AGAIN!

LESLIE: How about tomorrow?

CARLO: Tomorrow?

LESLIE: Yeah, meet me here tomorrow and I’ll definitely buy you a beer.

CARLO: You’ll DEFINITELY buy me a beer tomorrow?

LESLIE: Absolutely. I'm off to watch the cycling. You coming?

CARLO: No, I think I’ll stay here, wait till that bastard at the next table turns his back, then nick his beer.

[LESLIE LEAVES. CARLO SPENDS THE REST OF THE DAY STEALING OTHER PEOPLE’S BEERS WHEN THEY ARE NOT LOOKING AND EVENTUALLY GETS THROWN OUT FOR A DRUNKEN RENDITION OF “DIRTY OLD TOWN”.]




'I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour...' He's singin' Leslie's song. STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

The Carlo and Leslie Dialogues: ASIO Transcripts Part 1

Now, everyone knows I'm a pretty important guy. Few things happen in the world of politics, high finance or pub trivia without Carlo Sands being consulted. So it struck me there could be no doubt those Pricks Who Govern Us would be monitoring my every move.

I've been thinking for some time of finally writing my much-anticipated memoirs, but then I figured… that’s a lot of work, why not just publish what these pricks have already recorded? And so I sent away for my ASIO file and received the answer: “TOP SECRET HIGHLY CLASSIFIED UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES TO BE RELEASED.”

This was perhaps to be expected, so I sent a text to an “associate” of mine who happens to hold a certain high up position within the Australian intelligence establishment in order to remind him of certain… favours I happen to render our American allies in 1971 in Laos during the Indochina war that should they… emerge... could prove a little unfortunate for more than one high profile figures in several countries.

The first installment of my files arrived in my inbox within the hour.

I poured over it and was a little stunned to discover it appears to consist of transcribed recordings of me in a pub… with the cad Leslie! Now the pub is unsurprising, but Leslie of all people? After what that cad did?

I guess they record everything and so this rare and bizarre occurrence got picked up with all the important things I do, which future files will no doubt reveal.

I was a bit disappointed, but as the alternative was to sit down and write my own fucking story myself, I have decided to publish the transcripts. This is the first of five installments. STAY TUNED FOR MORE! OR DON'T! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK I AM TOO IMPORTANT TO CARE!

* * *

A pub.

div>
[10:05AM, MONDAY [DATE REDACTED], TARGET CARLO SANDS MEETS TARGET LESLIE RICHMOND AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL AT OPENING TIME. THEY START DRINKING BEER.]

CARLO: You know what?

LESLIE: What?

CARLO: I like beer.

LESLIE: You are a big fan of beer.

CARLO: But there's times when I think about ALL the beer I’ve drunk over all those years...

LESLIE: All throughout history.

CARLO: Over many millennia… and I think that if I had all that money I spent on all that beer … just imagine how much beer I could buy!

LESLIE: Quite a lot, definitely. Even taking into account inflation and rises in alcohol taxes, that's still a large amount of beer you could purchase.

CARLO: A fucking shitload.

LESLIE: It's the sort of figure that puts the otherwise disturbing global debt figures into context, for sure.

CARLO: I’d be set for years!

LESLIE: You could finally stop harassing other people to buy you beer all the time.

CARLO: Oh no! Just coz I’d be rich would be no reason to give up my favourite pastime!

LESLIE: It's caused you problems, though. Remember when you kept badgering Genghis Khan to buy you a beer? I don’t mind running, but an enraged Mongol horde gets up quite a head of speed.

CARLO: The man had no vision! I tried to tell him! All of this conquering and subjugating and establishing the largest contiguous land empire in human history stretching right across Asia into Central Europe, that’s one thing! But you want to think big! “Genghis,” I said, “you wanna invade and subjugate New Zealand! In about 800 years, they’ll make the Lord of the Rings films there and just think how rich you'll be with the royalties!”

LESLIE: He just kept repeating, “what’s New Zealand?” He never understood your strategic genius.

CARLO: AND THE BASTARD NEVER BOUGHT ME A FUCKING BEER!

LESLIE: In his defence, he also repeatedly said “what the hell is a pint of Guinness”?

CARLO: A MAN CAN NOT LIVE ON FERMENTED HORSE’S MILK ALONE! Now it has all come flooding back. Jesus. My machete-wielding arm is twitching. LET’S INVADE CENTRAL EUROPE!

LESLIE: No, come on. Not after the last disaster. Have another beer. You like beer.

CARLO: Yeah. Beer's nice.

LESLIE: Yeah. Have another.

CARLO: Yeah. So... can you buy me a beer?

LESLIE: [sigh] Why don’t you just do what you normally do? Wait till the guy at the next table turns his back, then nick his?

CARLO: It’s such a hassle! The bastards complain and there’s an argument and I have to get my machete out and then there’s a body to dispose of and it’s no longer in just one easy-to-move part, and I hate to piss off bartenders so JUST BUY ME A BEER, YOU BASTARD!

LESLIE: Ok. Look. I’ll buy you a beer, just promise we’ll definitely stay out of Central Europe?

CARLO: Well, ok, if you’ll buy me a … [Phone rings] Hang on. [Answers] Hello? WHAT THE FUCK? GO SCREW YOURSELF YOU USELESS MAGGOT-RIDDEN PILE OF FERMENTED RHINO SHIT! I’LL CHOP YOU INTO A THOUSAND PIECES AND FEED YOU TO YOUR OWN PRIZED COLLECTION OF RARE, ENDANGERED SPOTTED BUG-EYED PIRANHAS! What? Yep. Yeah, sure thing. No worries. Cool. I’ll see you there.

LESLIE: Who’s that?

CARLO: My lawyer. Reminding me I am due in court. I better get going … I have to find some rich guy and steal his suit.

[REST OF FILE REDACTED]




'I like drinking on a Monday morning...' STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

All your questions answered PART 2!!! FEATURING SHOVELS AND ROPE!!!

Well fuck yeah people! I told you to tell me your fucking problems and then I answered your fucking problems! That's just how I roll! I fucking solve shit. I am a "solver".

More than that, I'm a fucking "doer". It took me less than four months to answer the last lot of "Agony Aunt/Ask Your Friendly Prophet" questions, and this time I was even quicker! Just a matter of weeks since you asked your questions!

This is what progress looks like. Goddamn governments claiming to take "the need for climate action" seriously might want to take notes here. Action should be as swift and decisive as a Carlo Sands blog post, you motherfuckers.

It did help that there were a just two questions. It helped even more that one came from a man whom dedicated readers of this blog will immediately recognise as the cad who beat me in a duel to the death -- yes, Leslie Fucking Richmond!!! Having basically killed me with the help of the Facebook quiz "when will you die?", the prick now has the sheer fucking gall to ask me a question!!!

But, personal feelings/murder notwithstanding, I made a solemn promise to my multitude of fans that I would answer their questions -- and that my answeers would come with a specially designated song by the glorious American country/folk husband-and-wife duo Shovels and Rope. 

I made a similar promise last time with Tom Waits and I fucking delivered... so you better believe I will come through with SHOVELS AND FUCKING ROPE!!!! Yeah? So here we go...

1) Alright let's start with the goddamn cad and get him out of the way -- literally, with any luck. "Leslie Richmond" (and I am confident that is his real name coz why would anyone impersonate such a prick?) has the unspeakable gall to ask:

Sorry, is this Room 101? I was told to report to Room 101. It looks ... scarier ... than I imagined it to be.

Well, don't you fucking even bother apologising to me, Richmond! Jesus fuck! But... to answer your question. No.

There you go. That is your answer, straight up. No, this is not "Room 101". It is not the fucking fictitious room George Orwell invented in his novel 1984, whereby people are tortured by their own worst nightmares.

Nor, for that matter, is it the British TV show of the same name in which comics and other celebrities nominate pet hates they would like condemned to an Orwell-inspired Room 101 -- which, and never let it be said this blog is not "up-to-date" with show bizz "goss", is going to be recreated for Australian TV with Paul McDermott as its host.

So I hope this answers your question. You get a Shovels and Rope song -- even if you don't fucking deserve one. It is, however, highly appropriate. It is like the song was written for you, you evil prick.

But every now and then I get evil
I’m ashamed in the shadow of the steeple
I’m a lunatic looking thru a keyhole

2) OK I was quite grateful to receive a second question... or so I thought, until I saw the questioner! It was one "Simon Ronald", who I am sure all dedicated readers of this blog immediately recognise as that fucking freak who in the last round of questions confessed to being a degenerate and compulsive TOUCHER OF HIS EYEBROWS!!! 

Now, I'll admit it takes some courage to come back after admitting something that and daring to pose a new question. So, purely out of respect for his sheer bravery, I'll report and seek to answer the degenerate's new question, which is: 

how often should one "treat oneself"?

Well, jesus christ, you try to give a fucker a break and he throws this at you! How often should you "treat yourself"??? Now, I don't presume to know exactly what you mean by "treat oneself", Simon Ronald, but I assume, to go by your past sinful admissions, what you mean is how often should you "treat yourself" by touching your eyebrows, you sick fuck!!!

To which I can only reply: that is NOT A TREAT, THAT IS A SIN!!! YOU ARE CLEARLY BEYOND HELP AND YOU DO NOT DESERVE TREATS!!! 

Nonetheless, I shall take mercy on you. Yes, despite your degeneracy I hereby assign you the following Shovels and Rope song "The Devil Is All Around". I think you will find it highly pertinent to your "eyebrown-touching" predicament. I pray you will listen and consider its message of possible salvation.

So I'm gonna be a good man, gonna do the best I can
Though I'm a shell of the man that I once was
And if I find forgiveness in the eyes of god
It will be hard won, I assure you

PRAY LISTEN TO SHOVELS AND ROPE, SIMON, AND DO THE BEST THAT YOU CAN!!!

Well, that is your questions answered once more. I really feel that deserves a beer, which you can purchase for me via the PayPal donations button on the righthand side of the blog. I PROMISE ALL MONIES DONATED WILL BE SPENT ON BEER!!! THAT IS A CARLO SANDS GUARANTEE!!!

Do you have more questions for Carlo Sands? YEAH? YOU DO? Well ask me in the comments section under this post and I shall rush to answer them!!! I will even award you with your own personal song by Texas singer-songwriter Hayes Carll!!! GO ON!!! GIVE IT A GO!!!


BONUS TRACK

Yes, a bonus Shovels and Rope track! I have chosen "Boxcar" coz I think it speaks to the universal experience of being a couple of in-love desperados on the run from the law somewhere in Depression-era United States -- and "bleeding out in a boxcar, shot in the back". Christ, we've all been there.

Well ain't it just like you and me to go down like that?
Bleedin' out in a boxcar, shot in the back
We were all out of luck, all out of time
Law was waiting for us at the end of the line...

Eulogy from the man who beat me in a duel to the death

Debate over Carlo Sands has raged amongst philosophers, theologians, exorcists, Carlo Sands, demon hunters, and debt collectors.

As you all know, on Friday from 6pm (local time) was my wake -- occurring everywhere in the world simultaneously. Absolutely *everyone* was there -- whether they liked it or not. My own speech to the wake was prepared in advance. I draw my loyal followers attention to the speech published below, which was prepared for the event by Leslie -- the cad who defeated me in a duel to the death.

Of course, Leslie is a treacherous, murderous bastard. There are elements to this speech that any decent person could only consider libelous and the worst forms of slander. Myself, I notice that it lies by omission. Leslie completely fails to mention -- even in passing -- Carlo Sands' key role in the 100 years war. It only took me 116 years, by I finally drove those Plantagenet bastards from France. This is an important lesson in the consequences in stealing Carlo Sands' beer. I don't give a fuck if you are called "Edward The Third, King of All England", you don't touch my schooner.

But I publish the speech ultimately because it deals with a topic so close to my heart -- Carlo Sands.

Do not trust this man around your beer.

* * *

Eulogy for Carlo Sands

By The Man Who Defeated Him In A Duel To The Death

Carlo Sands was a complex ... thing. No less so in death, apparently, than in life.

Always quick with a maniacal grin and never slow (after last drinks) to lend a machete to those in need, many myths have grown up around Carlo – most collected together in the Book of Revelations and the tales of Ragnarok. And much of his life has served as the inspiration for much art - the convincing sense of ultimate horror embedded in Lovecraft's Cthulu mythos, Poe's raven, Wilde's Dorian Gray, Conan Doyle's Moriarty, Bosch's visions of Judgement Day and Hell, Brueghel's depictions of drunken peasant cavortings, Munch's "The Scream".

Munch's The Scream captures the sense of horror associated with the existence of Carlo Sands.

But I feel the true spirit of Carlo has only rarely been grasped throughout his time on this world. And even then, it is a knowledge that seems to die out very quickly in often mysterious circumstances.

Over the millennia -- almost from the very day he hatched -- the activities of Carlo have prompted conjecture on his nature. At first this was mostly along the lines of screaming and running away. When intelligent hominids came on the scene, it progressed to screaming and running away followed by the survivors' pre-linguistic equivalent of "what the fuck?!" and "WHY? WHYYYYY?!!".

As time passed and we developed better weapons and city walls, the discussion settled down and became more formal and reflective, and ever since debate has raged amongst philosophers, theologians, exorcists, Carlo Sands, demon hunters, and debt collectors.

A major question that occupied them all, second only to "WHYYYYY?!", concerned Carlo's insistence on continuing to be alive against all reason and sanity and persistent efforts to persuade him not to be. Was he immortal, or just remarkably well pickled?

On a day in 2009 that I'm sure found many of us torn between joy and happiness, that ancient question was finally answered. Well, technically, it was answered on October 21, 2008, when Carlo died, but it wasn't known to the world at large until Carlo found out.

To me it seemed like the end of an era. Like there may be no more running in blind panic from enraged emperors, kings, popes, conquering hordes, massed armies, and peasant mobs. No more looking over the shoulder for when the next attempted payback from God(s) would come. No more explaining that I was just holding the bag for someone. No more hangovers that made the big bang seem sedate and whimsical.

The only downside seemed to be that, although tragically dead, he was tragically continuing to insist on existing. Though this, to those who know him well, is not at all out of character and will no doubt provide a much needed boost to the philosophy sector of the economy.

But this is Carlo's wake, and tradition dictates that we must celebrate the departed. And as I -- against all my long-held expectations -- have managed to outlive Carlo and been the only person ever to have beaten him in a duel to the death, I find myself with my back safely against a wall and overwhelmed by magnanimity and benevolence.

Carlo's feats were many. Far too many to remember them all and sleep peacefully. So perhaps I shall limit myself to his earliest and possibly most fundamental contributions to humanity.

Ever since that moment he decided he couldn't be fucked looking for food and was just going to sit under that tree and wait for something to turn up, he has helped shape what we have become.

His inevitable discovery of the effects of fermented fruit. The - perhaps not unrelated - determination that he really, really needed others to share this new knowledge with (and to go get fruit for him). His decision (after some trial and error) that the "monkey people" were the most likely candidates.

Likewise his desire that we should be the beneficiaries of his discovery that if you spilt your grass seeds into your water and forgot about it for a while, you didn't necessarily have to chuck the whole lot out.

Many things that we take for granted today came from these simple acts of generosity. Brain shrinkage, dementia, cirrhosis, pancreatitis, delirium tremens, cardiomyopathy, gout, hangovers, some dodgy food and mating decisions – it is possible that without Carlo, we would never have discovered these, or at least had them in such abundance as we have enjoyed.

Carlo Sands may not have made our lives happier, but he sure made them hazier.

The hangover is just one of Carlo Sands' contributions to humanity that many take for granted.

Now, as his long time personal friend and advisor cum scapegoat and terrified innocent bystander who repeatedly somehow found myself mixed up in the fallout of his activities, I ask you all to charge your vessels and join me in saying:

Slainte, and Good Riddance!

Machete fights will be out back after closing. Thankyou.