Big love to BOSS Pictures for getting this together for us.
Shot, Directed and Edit by Mikey Hamer
mikeyhamer.com
Many thanks to edencreative.com.au
1st AD… Julia Gorman
MUA… Nick Plummer, Nikki Rose & Samara Gildea
Prod. Design… Nick Plummer & Mikey Hamer
Wardrobe… Nick Plummer
Armor (worn by Luke)… Gertrude Grimm grimmnoir.com.au
Prod. Assist… Alice Amsel
Cast
Julia Gorman
Chelle Hanley
Sara Potter
Rachel Cox
Sugarat Keziah
Hey there, friends, paternity suit holders and lovers of cheap beer in tall cans – with the new record taking up almost all of our time, we haven’t been able to play many gigs or post much hilarious, informative and above all, sleazy info on the internet.
If you’re just getting down with us, you may want to know how it all began.
Head over to DUDEROCKET and read about the formative process of our earliest demos and download them for free. FREE.
Since we started the best band in the world a couple of years ago, we’ve gone through a lot of shit, good and bad, some remembered and some mercifully hidden in the depths of a short term memory loss caused by alcohol (and possibly meth). We’ve toured the country, made friends, lost money, made enemies, stolen The Snowdroppers’ rider on countless occasions, changed drummers, almost been sued by the Wu-Tang clan and all kinds of other weird miscellanea that I don’t have time to go into the minutia of right now.
What we need to focus on is that BZ has always been there for us – whether hustling to get us extra money, beer, money for beers or just making sure that we’re happy at home, a band of terrible men (but fabulous performers) couldn’t have asked to be in better hands (and her rack only sweetened the deal!).
Now that she has been called away to fight the Religious Right back in the US, I can only say that I’m praying to the almighty, The Great Grizzler In The Sky, Sweet Honey Thief and Winter Sleep Dude, Bear God that she stay safe and return to us when she can.
We love that woman more than I can properly express, what with thrusting and pouring booze on my junk being my two main forms of communication.
Now, as a last act of greatness before she donned her dweomered jet pack and probably some kind of heavily ensorcelled artillery, BZ managed to enslave one Jono Barwick and bend him to her will.
So, from now on, contact him at fullplateartists@gmail.com if you need to deal with us in any kind of professional capacity.
I sure hope that he knows what the fuck he is doing.
We four dudes of Gay Paris are

Bearing booze we traverse afar

Beer in fountains, coke in mountains

Sitting in BZ’s car
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O Bar of wonder, Bar of night

Bar with sleazy lighting right

Festive drinking, we’re all stinking

Guide us to her lusty thighs

Born a rap dude in the swamps of shame

Dub to the H it is his name

Drunk forever, ceasing never

Under-dressed and slightly crazed

O Bar of wonder, Bar of night

Bar with sleazy lighting right

Festive drinking, we’re all stinking

Guide us to her lusty thighs

Crazy legs to offer has Slim

He only drinks beer, he never drinks gin

Vertical snaking and stage a-shaking

Worship him for all his sins

O Bar of wonder, Bar of night

Bar with sleazy lighting right

Festive drinking, we’re all stinking

Guide us to her lusty thighs



Blacktooth arrives, as handsome as doom

Hair slicked back like ravens and gloom

Soloing, riffing, a little coke sniffing

Staying backstage and in the green room

O Bar of wonder, Bar of night

Bar with sleazy lighting right

Festive drinking, we’re all stinking

Guide us to her lusty thighs

Glorious now Six Guns does arise

Cigarette rolled and beautiful eyes

Has one shooter, three rums to smooth it

Now he’s drunk, so BZ drives

O Bar of wonder, Bar of night

Bar with sleazy lighting right

Festive drinking, we’re all stinking

Guide us to her lusty thighs
You’ve loved us from afar. Maybe you’ve hugged us after a show. Maybe you’ve even seen us at the pub and we’ve tried to get you to buy us drinks with varying degrees of success.
Now it’s time to up the ante.
It’s time for Gay Paris to give back.
But you have to throw a party.
Only by a never ending party can Gay Paris exist.
Want to be part of a savage run through decadence and excess not seen since Caligula flooded the coliseum?
All you need is a space large enough to hold us and your buddies as we ruin your neighbour’s chances of having a nice, quiet weekend.
We supply the PA, amps, drums and genuinely disturbing/amazing stage show and possibly a bunch of hangovers/hangers on from whatever party we played before – that’s right, we’ll be doing this all day long. Well, at least for 10 hours or so.
Sets will take place at 1:30pm, 3pm, 4:30pm, 6pm, 7:30pm, 9pm and 10:30pm, giving us time to flee the scene of our previous travesty against decency and set up at your place. Pick a time, go on, we dare you, we’ll be in and set up in 15 minutes with the help of our road crew of miscreants, play a 20 minute set and be gone before any noise complaints can garner a response from the po po- and hey, if you’re the host, you can even influence our set list, so what do you wanna hear? The old shit? The new shit? That awesome song by the Wu-Tang Clan? You got it, good buddy.
Hell, theme your parties, we’ll have so many costume changes that Lady Gaga will look like Slim Pickins (yeah, I’m callin’ him out – buy some more clothes, dude).
As alluded to before, we’ll have a party bus piloted by our good buddy, Crisis The Corncob Clown taking anyone debauched enough to do this more than once in a day from one location to the next. If you have the stamina, we provide the driver. He will get a touch weird once the sun goes down though, so be warned.
Oh fuck me, it has been a while! We’ve had Six Guns’s bucks weekend (the most masculine thing I’ve ever been involved in), Slim’s birthday, Totally Unicorn shows and all kinds of other shit (I saw Aesop Rock, for instance).
The Southern Horror Bugle 