Achmad appreciates Australian popular culture, in this case the songs of Kevin Bloody Wilson.
As a gesture of goodwill in this fasting month, I’d like to help build bridges.. There have been some harsh words thrown on this forum, so I’d like to help heal and unite IM readers by throwing light on other cultures.
As a Ramadan gift, I present to you the first in a series of Appreciating Australia.
Australians are a simple and fun-loving folk. It’s true, the subtleties of Indonesian humour such as Dono, Kasino, Indro, or Tukul, are probably lost on them. But as a more sophisticated civilization, we Javanese have a duty, especially in Ramadan, to understand our crude brothers and sisters down south. (We will, of course, be ruling them one day).
Here we profile a quintessential Australian comedian, the great, the one and only…
Kevin Bloody Wilson
The 61-year old Kevin Bloody Wilson has been strumming his guitar in pubs in the English-speaking world, since bursting onto the underground music scene in Kalgoorlie, Western Australia, 1984. Two decades of songs about farting, rootin’ (having sex), and drinking beer have won him a global following, which he claims includes Prince Charles.

Kevin Bloody Wilson
Kev represents the essence of Australian humour. What Aussie can forget classics such as:
Sure, the cultural attaché at the Embassy in Jakarta, might rattle off names of Australian comedians like Dame Edna Everage, and Clive James. But those two snobs left Australia in the 1960s. Let’s not forget the greatest cultural attaché Australia has ever had: Sir Les Patterson, himself a great fan of Kev.
To many, Kev is primarily a great entertainer. Repeated themes include farting and matters of the anus, (Festival of Farts, Mick the Master Farter, Chucka Browneye), masturbation, (I Gave Up Wanking, Grandad’s Got A Stiffy), and sexual intercourse, (Rootin’ in the Back of the Ute, Do Ya F–k on First Dates?- aka Kev’s Courtin’ Song), and female genitalia, (Absolute C-nt of a Day, You Can’t Say C-nt in Canada).
Songs about Australian identity have always been important to Kev. In “The Shane Warne Song”, Kevin exhorts a famous cricketer to focus on his training, whilst volunteering to take on Mr. Warne’s duties to “Do the Rootin’ For Australia”. Elsewhere, Kev calls on listeners to “Chucka Browneye for Australia”, encouraging them to lower their trousers or outer garments and display their anus as a tribute to their nation.
But a closer listen to Kev’s lyrics and songs reveals a serious exploration of the human condition. As such, Kev reveals a philosophical heart (or fart) to the ubiquitous, beer-gutted Australian man (and woman).
“Grandad’s Got A Stiffy”.
Consider, “Grandad’s Got A Stiffy”. In “Grandad”, Kev explores the ravages of age, of loss, but the importance of facing mortality with optimism and hope. Grandad tells the story of an elderly man committed to a nursing home who burst his colostomy (bag), whilst masturbating.
The old bastard laid sprawled on the nursing home floor,
He’d been wanking and fell out of his chair,
As he fell on his guts, his colostomy bust,
Splattering muck and guck and sh–t everywhere,
Despite emptying the contents of the bag all over the wall and his nurse, Grandad maintained a positive attitude, and indeed refused to cease his favourite hobby!
But he wouldn’t stop wanking,
So we chucked on a blanket,
So the women and kids couldn’t see,
his battered banana hangin out his pyjamas and the cum stain an shit on his sheets
…but that filthy old bastard sat cackling laughing, just waving his slug in the air
Nor has Kev been afraid to court controversy. In “Living Next Door To Alan”, Kev takes on the thorny issue of race relations. This song lampoons a group of Australian Aboriginals who use their welfare payments to compete with Australia’s wealthiest man (in the 1980s), now-failed entrepreneur Alan Bond. “Living” alleges that the aboriginals used welfare payments to purchase luxury cars, houses, and even rent a warship from the Australian navy. Critics claim such welfare payments were inadequate to buy such goods.
Kev maintained he was the people’s poet, telling Brisbane’s Courier Mail: couriermail
I’m just voicing the sort of thing people want to hear. I don’t want to sound as if I am on a crusade, but I just write what most of us are thinking. It involves lampooning everyone in the process.
Dismissing critics, Kev proved his commitment to appreciating cultural diversity with “the Bali Belly Song”. Kev’s account of his trip to the Hindu island consisted of several verses describing his time on “the throne” with diarrhea and intestinal problems.
[audio:bali-belly.mp3]
Listen to “Bali Belly”.
Love, however, could be the most enduring of Kev’s themes, with his many ditties perhaps rivaling Shakespeare. In “Rootin’ in the Back of the Ute”, Kev celebrates a time-honoured Australian mating practice. “Da Ya F–ck On First Dates”, is Kev’s demonstration of a chivalry rarely attributed to him.
Since his smash-hit 1984 album, “Your Average Australian Yobbo”, Kev has proven his fair-dinkumness (authenticity) as a true Australian by refusing to bow to the warriors of political correctness.
Kev has defied the self-appointed custodians of Australian literature and music by focusing on themes that obsess ordinary Australians everywhere, drinking beer, rootin’, farting, and amusing themselves by stringing together obscene words.
Some of the more famous songs include:
To his critics, Kev would probably simply quote the signature he offers fans at his various gigs, “F—k You! Kev!”.
Achmad…
Even if I tried really hard, I’m never gonna be sexy!
I did buy a new pair of glasses though, but they did not really work out, still not seksi!
Va Va Vroom + Merdeka!
Rob !
Everyone can be Seksi !
Achmad…
Everyone? I am comfortable with being beyond hope, hopeless so to speak, on the seksi front.
Rob,
U just have to believe.
I want to believe.
Once upon a time, even Merdeka was just a dream !
Rob, thank you, I don’t think all are bad or evil but a greater percentage than usual seem to be compared to other countries I have been to. That said, I did enjoy my time there and it has it’s benefits for us (the foreigner). One being we can live a far better life than the average Joe (or AAB/Purba). Even a bum on the dole in Australia can move to Indonesia and enjoy a fairly easy life parading as a clown for kids for mmmm 15 million or more a month. Not saying that was me, I had a successful job and moved back as soon as I could sponsor my family knowing we could start a better life back here.
does anyone else notice it or is it just me….? but when someone on this forum says “Enjoy your weekend” They actually mean “Fall under a bus and die”.
😀
Janma !
Seksi Friends !
C’mon…we want everyone to feel seksi. Don’t say such things…
BTW — loved the tank top designs. Fabulous.
And Seksi !
x o .
janma-does anyone else notice it or is it just me….? but when someone on this forum says “Enjoy your weekend” They actually mean “Fall under a bus and die”.
You are right thats exactly what we mean. Sadly, though, in Jakarta given the lack of safety on public transport that would most likely happen. A student of mine once said he saw a woman step off a bus in Jalan Sudirman and the bus took off before she had properly alighted. The bus dragged her under and the wheel ran over her skull and crashed it. In true Indonesian style he didn’t hang around long enough to see the damage he caused and the people just stood there laughing, smirking and saying or doing nothing.
Andy…
Gotta say that standing around doing nothing, saying nothing, smirking, and laughing is not something uniquely Indonesian. I have seen Indonesians dive into help someone in need on many more occasions than I have seen them stand around.
Hit & run accidents where the driver drives away is not something uniquely Indonesian. It happens in Australia. Admittedly, on a public bus in Australia this might be a rarity. Yet, there are occasions of children being hit by public / school buses.
If you want to advance arguments about how bad Indonesia is you will find plenty of similar examples to this one that you can then generalize to tar and feather all Indonesians as being the same.
To each their own. You are entitled to your opinion on these things based on the experiences you have had. As I can disagree with you. In the 15 years that I have been in Indonesia I have seen good and bad, far more good than bad, but in a similar vein in my 23 years in Australia, having been born and bred there, I have also seen good and bad, far more good than bad. I guess what matters is how you spin those experiences. I am the eternal optimist and have great hopes for Indonesia, if for no other reason that my wife and soon to be born son are children of this nation. I want only what is best for them.
Enjoy your Sunday! (strangely enough this has nothing to do with you falling under a bus)
True the Chiense are the most dreadful racist of all:
“one white covers a hundred defects” and all that tripe.
Pretty ironic again. let’s just hope that the likes of PN and AAB are just the blacks who mar the cleaner name of Indonesians.
Truth hurts these Chinese racists as their beloved masquerade as sinless victims for whitey massa’s Green Cards, PRs & refugee visas are exposed as one of their many lies.
They hate to lose face to an uppity brown “muddy” but most especially in front of beloved massa whitey.
“let’s just hope that the likes of PN and AAB are just the blacks”
Quod erat demonstrandum.
janma humming…..
I like chinese,
I love their yin and yangese….
theres 900 million of them in the world today
so you better learn to like ’em is what I say…..
Can’t reveal any truth as they are being censored. Maybe I will start writing some goods about the Anglo Bules when I can think of one.
I think this guy is just great, such bad words but put in a way to make it not offensive, roll on another 20 years, good on ya Kev.
AAB said
Many Asians who have not been to Ostraya visualize a land of immense beauty with great cultured people like Europe and America. The moment the plane landed, you will be sprayed with insecticide; non-White person would be asked to step aside and interrogated and fill in intimidating forms.
Don’t believe that only non-White persons receive this Australian welcome-treatment. My own experience as a non-Anglo bule was an intimidating interrogation about a permanent resident family member whom I visited at the time, long before 9/11. Although I came with a normal tourist visa – no sponsoring or prolonged stay involved – the interrogating officer wanted to know if I had relatives in Australia. When I said yes he then started to ask questions about this family member, what he was doing in Australia, what he did before, how and why he emigrated, whether he was married and to whom, if there were children etc. All questions in rapid succession, suspect-interrogation style. I was under the impression that it wasn’t me and my reasons for visiting Australia that he was interested in but that he wanted to check up on my family. It was quite disturbing and I heard similar stories of prying into private affairs from other, also bule, visitors. In no country I ever visited, even the US after 9/11, I’ve been interrogated this way.
But he didn’t ask for hadiah like they do in other places like ……… (fill in the dots).
Nevertheless, except for some outback redneck ockers and sheilas, Australia remains a beautiful and interesting country.
kevin bloody wilson is as funny as they come and if people dont understand him or like his sense of humour…DON`T LISTEN TO HIM……..keep going for many years king kev….
Marcus,
Can you tell us a bit more about how you feel about Kev ? Do you, Marcus, chuck browneyes ?
I just found out Kev’s daughter Jenni Talia is following in Dad’s footsteps.
Assmad, you are a bit like Kev yourself..keep on re-cycling the same material. Fair Dinkum from your infrequent appearances these days we expect better qaulity. Pull ya socks up and have a go
@ Achmad…
Yes, where have you been?
Your infrequent appearances have had me thinking you are a figment of someone’s imagination that was almost forgotten 😀
Pak Oigals Yth.,
I’ve been in and out of rehab for my Teh Poci addiction. I don’t want to go the way of Janis, Jimi and Jim Morrisson, all of whom OD’d on Teh Poci (despite Western media reports). I remember jamming Koes Ploes numbers with Jimi the night he died. He was planning a covers album, having prepared a pscychedelic version of “Hati Senang.” I never got over it, and the pain has fuelled my art since. Still, Oigs, we all have our demons. And as a poet, ukulele player, pencak silat master and philosopher, I’m more vulnerable than most.
Much better..been some threads here I thought would be like rotten meat to a maggot and yest no ASSMAD…Very disappointing.
I even found my self agreeing with Ross..although his “religions are boon to mankind” begs further attention at a later date.
Rest assured, Oigal, I shall return in force. It’s true that part of my life is that of an unstoppable sex machine, a gregarious piece of public sexual property. But I also have an artistic temperamental side, which needs nurturing and times of solace and solitude. Don’t worry, old friend, I will return to insult you in the future. 🙂
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Rob,
Be.
Seksi !