Hi, I’m Thomas Kenneally. Many of you might know me the as the author that everyone gets confused with as the guy who wrote “The Power of One”, or from the rugby league ads as the guy who penned the lines: “Blow that whistle ref, blow that whistle.” What features in this edition of the Tertangala is an excerpt from my soon to be released book on the Two Blokes that have made such a mark on the female readers of this newspaper. I hope you enjoy it, and buy the book.
- Thomas Kenneally.
It was the Winter of ‘99. The weather was cool and David Kemp and I shared the same beard style, when I was approached to write a biography on two of the most talented, selfless and attractive young men that I have had the privilege to meet. Unfortunately, that deal fell through and, instead, I was commissioned to write an article on the Two Blokes.
We arranged to meet in a dingy establishment, there was an overpowering smell of stale alcohol and urine. I asked what this place was, to which they told me it was their flat. They asked me to sit and so I moved towards a chair and picked up a pair of sweat pants. There was an overpowering smell of stale alcohol and urine. One of the blokes piped up and said “Thanks I’ve been looking for those,” and put them on.
Initially, I was impressed by their tolerance to infection. One of the blokes, Matt, who was wearing no shirt was lying on the floor to my left covered in hair (some not his own), gathering dust. I shook his hand and received a small, static electric shock. The other one, Keith, who had been wearing no pants until recently, was seated on the lounge consuming a kebab. I noted this with some interest as it was 7:30 am. I scanned the room and saw a large screen television, beside which was a large number of video cassettes. Some of the names I happened to notice were Ass Ventura: Crack Detective and Foxy Boxing. Next to the television was a set of shelves, which seemed to be filled with an array of exotic beer bottles. On closer inspection they were just the cheap Victoria Bitter variety.
Four books were arranged casually on the top shelf. Two titles I noticed were “Catcher in the Rye” and an untouched copy of “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” Pizza boxes featured highly in the decoration of the room, in fact the coffee table was constructed entirely from pizza boxes, some still with pizza inside. As I glanced around the flat, I was struck by the harmony with which these Two Blokes lived with infestation. I noticed the early morning rays of the sun streaming in through a hole in the wall. I thought how artistic it was to make a feature of the lack of integrity of a load bearing structure. I suddenly felt as though I was being watched. I turned to see the Two Blokes looking at me. They asked me what I would like to drink. Matt went to find some Chardonnay, while Keith excused himself to go to the toilet. I started to get some idea of the relationship of these Two Blokes, as Keith was whizzing with the door open, in full view of both myself and, due to the hole in the wall, the neighbours.
“How long have you been living in this flat?” I asked over the sound of Matt pouring the drink or was it Keith urinating? I did not know.
“About five weeks” Matt replied. “We haven’t had time to do what we want with it yet, but it’s getting there”
I asked the questions I had come to ask them, with Matt making his way back to his space on the floor and Keith sluggishly returning to his seat, with a few newly acquired stains.
“What are your goals and aspirations in life?” I asked. “And how have you set out to achieve them?”
“Well, Keith replied, “My main goal was to collect all of the Voltron lions, but I’ve only got the centre one and have lost the key to get the guy out So I guess you could say my dreams have suffered a set back from the start”
We all chuckled at this light-hearted remark. However Keith maintained this was not a joke, and a tear was quite evident. Matt chimed in by saying at the beginning of the year they had had three main goals. These were to get a car, a girlfriend and to become popular.
“What happened to these aspirations?” I asked.
“We didn’t achieve them” Matt ejaculated. “We even thought about going halves in the first two, but we never actually got involved in the issue of joint ownership, except when our creative arts student friends came to visit”
“So you have many friends?” I enquired.
Keith piped up, then spoke. “Yes, people are always coming to our house, mostly to get back things we’ve borrowed from them and also their money. They hurt my fingers if we don’t pay.”
“So what is your story with the ladies?” I enquired.
“We have many stories, none of which are true.” Matt answered.
“No, I mean to ask whether you have girlfriends.” I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I think the chair I was sitting in was wet.
“Oh,” said Keith, picking fluff from his navel, and then flicking it onto the collection on Matt’s chest.
“Yeah, we have a different girl each week. It’s pretty pricey though.”
Matt gave support. “Yeah, normally we see a bit of action, every Friday lunchtime at the North ‘Gong. Some top sheilas there, Tommy.”
I took their word for it and I put the question to them “What does it mean to be blokes?”
“Well I think it’s all about identity” Keith said. “Yeah it’s like identity and name, and being able to express yourself by writing it in wee.”
The dampness of the seat I was sitting in made the inside of my buttocks feel itchy. I needed a scratch.” “Well, what do you think about masculinity in Australia,” I probed.
“Well, it’s about being able to express yourself in a manly way,” Matt said. “Weekend activities such as barbecues, burning off, hosing driveways, mowing the lawn in thongs are all important things in being a bloke.”
“So how do you spend your Saturday nights?”
Matt replied. “Normally we kick back around 6:30 with some ‘Hey, Hey its Saturday.’”
“We love that show, it’ll never end,” Keith added.
“And after that?” I offered some breath mints to Keith, who was in obvious need.
“What do you mean?” Matt looked puzzled as he put down the Rubiks Cube he had been toiling with.
“Well,” I began, “do you go out anywhere and partake in some social intercourse?”
After what seemed like five minutes of giggling and schoolboy gestures, Keith replied.
“We told you we don’t have girlfriends.”
“How do you think you’ll benefit from the education you receive at university?”
“Well probably the only things we’ll take with us from uni are the things we’ve stolen. But seriously, if you work hard then you can get a lot out of the Arts faculty, photocopiers, notice boards, thumb tacks, it’s a Bonanza!”
“I love that show, it’ll never end,” said Keith.
“What do you hope to do with your articles in the Tertangala?” I posed to them.
“Well” said Matt, “I think our style is to speak to the reader, and when I say reader I mean the singular.”
‘Well, it’s not how many people read your work,” I assured them, “its who is reading it. Steven Speilberg made a film after reading one of my books.”
“Yeah, we loved ET.” Matt said.
“One final question guys, what are the readers of the Tertangala like?” I asked.
“Well, they are well educated, articulate, smart and have good taste in both film and literature.” Keith
stated.
“So, do you think I should include a copy of my football poem with this article?”
“No.” They replied in unison.
With that I packed up my notepad and thanked the guys, assuring them that I would not be writing a sequel to E.T., and left. It was a remarkable few minutes I had with the Two Blokes, and as I left I felt a soft tingle cover my body. Was it a feeling of warmth and happiness or the fleas I had contracted from the seat? I did not know.
One thing I did realise, however, was that no matter what these Two Blokes said, they did not have a clue about good taste or poetry, so without further ado: ‘Blow that whistle ref, send that ball soaring, blow that whistle ref’.
Two Blokes: Their Story by Thomas Kenneally with Foreword by Ian Chappell is available from all good book stores.
