We Four Kings – A Gay Parisian Carol for the Holiday Season

Sit on my lap . . .

We four dudes of Gay Paris are

Bearing booze we traverse afar

Beer in fountains, coke in mountains

Sitting in BZ’s car
 
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

Doom Mechanics – the secret of being a rap dude unveiled!

Rappers Need Capes

Up from the Totally Gay Dammit tour split EP!

More Stupid Shit from the Phone of WH

This week we went to Wombarra, we recorded with Hammer at Def Wolf and maybe I’m finally getting a pomeranian.

Bearded Immortals – A Poster!

Bearded Immortals Tour

A life of good times, forever.

Gay Paris East Coast Tour, Winter 2011

“So what if The Beards are going to get one hundred beardless fools to gather their dignity and grow some goddamn facial hair?
It’s our goal to ensure that every bearded man (and anyone that will sleep with a bearded man) becomes immortal!”

That’s right, y’all, Gay Paris’ front man, WH has lost his mind again – and you know what that means: the kings of shack rockin’, swamp stompin’, heavy as the devil good times are back on the road.

With the wild (and let’s face it, that isn’t a word that Gay Paris throw around lightly) successes of this years previous tours, Taking The Throne and 4 Drink Minimum, the boys have indeed proved that not only have they brought ugly back, they’ve made it sexy.
With the addition of a fourth beard via the keen sighted man known only as Six Guns Simpson behind the kit, the stars have finally aligned in some obscure fashion that WH swears will allow all bearded men a lifetime of great times – forever.

Currently riding high on the release of their third single ‘The Blacktooth Supper Club’ from debut album, The Skeleton’s Problematic Granddaughter, Gay Paris dares anyone to deny the dirt crusted majesty of their live show – so come along, even if you hate the greatest band ever to crawl out of the mud and beg you for change while feeling you up and (probably) winning your heart in the process.
Fri August 5 Wombarra Bowlo, Wombarra NSW w/ The Hard-Ons
Fri August 12 The Zoo, Brisbane QLD w/ The Beards and Transvaal Diamond Syndicate
Sat August 13 The Spotted Cow Toowoomba, QLD
w/Bang Bang Boss Kelly
Thu August 18 Australian National University, Canberra ACT w/ The Beards
Fri August 19 The Annandale Hotel, Annandale NSW w/ The Beards
Sat August 20 The Cambridge Hotel, Newcastle NSW w/ The Beards
Fri August 26 Northcote Social Club, Melbourne VIC w/ The Beards
Sat August 27 The Republic Bar and Cafe, North Hobart TAS w/ The Beards
Fri September 2 Adelaide University, Adelaide SA w/ The Beards
SHOW US THAT YOU SEEK IMMORTALITY BY CLICKING HERE

This week in WH’s Phone

Professional? Nope. Enjoy or, as my friend Face once said, SUCK IT.

The Black Tooth Supper Club – Music Video

4 Drink Minimum Tour Awards

Kung Fu Boobs Management Award – Nicole BZ
Shadow People Encouragement Award For Most Nocturnal Roadside Urinations – Blacktooth
Tetris Wizard Loading Award – Six Guns
Party Pony Pants Off Award – WH
Dance Party Dorothy’s Magic Slippers Award -Slim
Jabberwocky Most Quotable Award – Six Guns
Prison Breakout Award – Smokin’ D
Hottest Soul Sister – Kira Puru
AD & D 2nd Edition Multi-class Award – Janey Mac (Pirate/Doctor/Bassist)
Road Train Driving Medal (with amphetamines) – Six Guns
Award For Most Birthdays During Tour – Blacktooth (1)
Lifetime Achievement Retirement Watch – Smokin’ D
Chuck Norris Ass Kicking Title Belt For Soldiering On – Slim
Southern Hospitality Apron – Sally + Gordon
Northern Hospitality Apron – Jodi
Most Dominating Feline Diamond Collar and custom B-Ball jersey – Sir Charles
Smoochles Poochles Doggy Bone – George and Henry
Best Band – Gay Paris
Soul Train Heart String Locket – Kira Puru & The Bruise
Solid Gold Beer Bong For Dopest Funk – God God Dammit Dammit
Dinner In The Captains Cabin Voucher – The Good Ship
Trophy For Most Outrageous Venue Exit Strategy – Stevie J (of GGDD )
Bandanna Award For Most Bandannas Worn – WH
Slick Willies Fashion Award – Blacktooth
Most Hated Outfit (including silly hats) – WH
The Language As A Second Language Diploma – Slim
Eagle Eyes Aviator Shades Award – Six Guns

Death Cab For Coochee

Yeah, I’ve been turning a whole bunch of songs into vehicles for hip-hop/rapping. Eventually, I’ll probably forget how to use my hard won language skills and and release an album called ‘Rapin’ In Da Clubz’, but for now, I’ll just give you some beats before I really get beat down.
First to get sullied – Death Cab For Cutie.
Sorry, dudes!
I have legit purchased all of your albums, so please don’t get rugged with me.

No Quiet Nights

Last night? What the fuck happened? The eggs tasted good and there was so much gin. Dreams of tongue kissing something that has an impossibly long face and huge hands. Dreams.
I wake panting, face down, burning inside and the feathers scratch my skin, the nettles and tinsel dance and tickle and poke and find their way inside me. Some kind of trash bird nest. A note blurs into sensible.
Don’t be sorry, you sorry bitch.
Motherfuckers.
Gore full, my belly bloats out in front and my breasts are pregnant tender. Beak marks and teeth, ripples of red around the areola , bile in my throat.
I’ve gotta get out of this tree and back to the underground.
Down in the woods, down on my luck, down on myself. Who the fuck did I get down with? Go down on?
I’ll say sorry to the white owl king and start again because every night is a night out.
The PA shudders through the woodland tunnels:
Come on down with the wolves and the owls, get on down where they hoot and howl
Dance around in the skin of a sow
Get the spook piggies and a thorn covered crown
Ooh la la, Pom Pom le Rouge
Tell us what you did last night!”
There is fear in the halls. I’m stinking of it with every breath, like a recovering alcoholic, dream taunts and piss stank skin, bags under my eyes holding all the old knowing that will blow me wide open and leave me on the floor before him, spread-eagled and barren.
Flashbacks from black to brown:
What’s the dog doing wearing the head of a man?
Now I’ve got a burn in her gut and a bite on my hand, where are my rings? At least he let me keep my fingers.
I must remember to take the appropriate measures, kill the baby goat with copper wire and hot golden broth.
Visit the apothecary and make love to the alchemist. Set fire to the evidence as a form of penitence.
When it gets too hot, just remember, there are no quiet nights in the arctic.More from the PA:
“Down on your knees in my court”
He appears in his terribly clean robe, impossibly albino, erection jutting at a proud and awkward angle.
The Owl king hoots and calls for more whores.
“Who will spit? Who will swallow, it’ll all be the same and the night plays out like a rosemary stain!”
As usual he is dramatic at the moment he approaches climax.
I say “good morning” in the evening and give ersatz curtsy, dipping my chest low and feeling my nipples remember the chewing hounds, birds and men of yester eve.
He’s checking out my bosom and I’m playing his game
“Are you sorry, Le Rouge?” He booms and gushes and the small women faint and drown while the larger ones set sail to stranger shores.
I’m always absolved, so I never abstain.
“Yes.”
Now I powders my cheeks and smear honest blood on my teats, swig absinthe in the latrine and laugh long and loud at the drowning dead, their spirits won’t sink as long as He provides the vodka, by barrel and burlesque, they are kept afloat.
I’ll Keep dancing with the dragon gone from scarlet to green and let great white wings canopy my bed, even if it means oceans and apologies and fear of the dark, a hatred of gears and steam and wires and clean living. I’ll say “M’lord, it meant naught, an honest mistake,” and false men in black with fuck my corpse at my wake.
When I wake on the morrow, I’ll say sorry again
Even if Hell freezes over.
Remember that there are no quiet nights in the brimstone lodge.