Posts tagged ‘Three Wise Monkeys’

A Typical Gig in Sydney – Three Wise Monkeys Bar

We recently played a gig at Three Wise Monkeys Bar in central Sydney. For those that don’t know, 3 Wise Monkeys is a questionable bar. Why? The patrons (mostly young European backpackers) have questionable hygiene and questionable substances in their blood, there are questionable stains on the toilet walls, questionable odours permeating the corners and questionable amounts of change are handed back after each round of drinks bought.

Several highlights of the night:

  • A fat British man in a suit had consumed a questionable pill and entertained the crowd near the stage with his dancing stylings. This consisted of  running stationary on the spot with a big grin on his sweaty, shiny face. In fact I have a sneaking suspicion it was Peter Kay. The funny thing was that even between songs he continued running stationary on the spot with no music to back him up.
  • Free beer for the band. That’s always a highlight for me. Would be slightly better however if we didn’t have to redeem them with rather large, tacky pink paper vouchers that we hand over to the bar. Hardly a cool look.
  • A wannabe hip hop dancer (see the 6 types of drunk dancer) who had recently used up her 20 hour gift-voucher at the solarium last week. Well, that’s my only explanation….or she might have decided that painting every inch of her skin with orange crayon would have the same effect. Anyway, she had her hands in the air for every song, akin to a born-again christian raising her arms to God in a church service. Unlike a church service however, she had a see-through white top on purchased from the toddler section at K-Mart, and 2 inches of muffin-top oozing down all sides of her jeans. She looked like an Oompa Loompa auditioning for a Christian Hip Hop music video.
  • The DJ. I’ve always been amused by the type of people large establishments employ. Their bouncers are always power-hungry meat-heads who failed the police-recruits drug test. They decided that bouncing (is that what you call the profession?) would be a similar legitimate way to spend time punching unfortunate souls in the head. Their DJ’s are unintelligent wannabe musicians who don’t understand a thing about music and think semi-quavers are the side effects of a bad coke session, syncopation is the Italian word for the job that you go to during the day, and Beethoven is a sub-breed of St Bernard dog. On this particular night, the DJ insisted on screaming out “G’DAY SYDNEY HOW YA’S GOING!! FUCKING WHOA!!!” at the start of every song. I think this particular DJ learnt English from the Russian botox-blonde Eurovision presenter.
I'm a DJ. I get all the girls

I'm a DJ. I get all the girls

Now for the sad part of the night. After the gig, my band members and I were standing outside a nearby kebab store, and witnessed two Asian males in a heated argument. One had a rather large head, one had glasses. To my horror, Glasses punched BigHead rather hard in the mouth with a left jab. As BigHead was stumbling backward, Glasses executed a perfectly formed right roundhouse kick to the head that would have made Mr Miyagi proud. BigHead was out cold before he even reached the ground, a victim of a drunken violent ‘friend’. Robbo and I grabbed Glasses and shoved him backward as he prepared to finish the job with a soccer-ball kick to the head.

The police arrived very soon after and threw Glasses on the ground, arrested him and took him away. We all made individual statements to the police following the incident.

In an effort to give Glasses a taste of being physically assaulted and violated, I added in my statement “I heard what they were arguing about. Glasses was trying to convince BigHead to insert a condom laden with cocaine deep inside his anus. Glasses had previously done this an hour before and it wasn’t noticeable at all unless you shove a finger deep inside there.”

I hope he suffers.


May 16, 2009 at 12:45 pm 5 comments