Tour Announcement: Queensland May 2012

It’s the tour announcement you’ve all been waiting for, Carl is finally bringing A One Ended Stick to Queensland!

QUEENSLAND TOUR MAY 2012

Tuesday 1st - Gladstone Entertainment Centre
07 4972 2822 http://gec.gladstonerc.qld.gov.au

Wednesday 2nd - Pilbeam Theatre, Rockhampton
07 4924 5600 www.pilbeamtheatre.com.au

Tuesday 8th - Brolga Theatre, Maryborough
07 4122 6000 www.brolgatheatre.org

Wednesday 9th - Moncrieff Theatre, Bundaberg
07 4130 4100 bundaberg.qld.gov.au/moncrieff

Saturday 12th - Nambour Civic Centre
07 5475 7777 www.nambourciviccentre.com.au

Tuesday 15th - Cairns Convention Centre
07 4042 4200 www.ticketlink.com.au

Friday 18th - Townsville Entertainment Centre
07 4771 4000 http://purchase.tickets.com

Saturday 19th - Proserpine Entertainment Centre
07 4945 2312

Sunday 20th - Mackay Entertainment & Convention Centre
07 4961 9777 www.mackayecc.com.au

Friday 25th - The Events Centre Caloundra
07 5491 4240 www.theeventscentre.com

Saturday 26th - Gold Coast Convention Centre
07 5504 4000 www.ticketek.com.au

Tuesday 29th - Mt Isa Civic Theatre
on sale soon

Raise your right Army

Part VII

I think I spent the next two years explaining to people or trying to explain to people why I didn’t go into the army on that day. I made up some story about my grandmother being sick or me having a virus just to take the heat off but people always want to know why? Thing is I didn’t really know why.

 The Army offered me direct entry after the New Year if I wanted to reconsider going back but I never did. Dad was annoyed and ‘wondered what I was going to do now’ mum was more than relieved and Carney didn’t care at all. I never did get back into the punk scene as much as before. Carney and I remained friends but we stopped playing soldiers and thought about work for the first time in our lives. We dropped the fake English accents and tried cultivating our own Aussie accents

I went on to get various jobs over the years that paid little but paid enough to get me to where I am now all with the help of something I didn’t know I had at the time: the ability to decide what was best for me at any given point in my life. No one had ever told me I had that in my possession. I had to learn it for myself; the hard way- without Carney, without my mother, without my father, without friends or anyone. I had to think for myself in a room with a fat sergeant breathing down my neck and a bus that had 6 years painted on it sitting out the front.

People often talk about thinking problems through as if there is some way of twisting the brain that will see you through to a clear decision or answer. My brain couldn’t do it-it was like the hill or the highway but inside me somewhere was the answer and on that day it came in the form of my right hand raising itself towards the ceiling saying a resolute but firm NO.

I promised John Hargreaves if I ever made it to Sydney to become a performer I would look him up. Unfortunately I was too late in making contact with him. I did make it to Sydney, I did become a performer but John died some years back and I never got to thank him for telling me I was crazy.

I wasn’t crazy for wanting to join the army; I wasn’t crazy for pulling out- I was crazy for wanting to join the army just because Carney was joining the army.
 
 Occasionally I run into old friends from teenage years who ask me ‘how the army is going?’ one bloke in particular Steve Henderson. No matter how many times I tell him I didn’t join he still asks me the next time he sees me.

‘How’s the army Carl?’

 For all the others who ran into me and asked why I didn’t go I use to say only this: I don’t really know why I didn’t go I just realised I didn’t want to go and didn’t.- which turned out to be good enough for me at the time. My decision or Carney’s decision to join the army eventually Ch-Ch-Ch Changed. Instead I spent the next 6 years trying to do whatever I thought was a good thing to do.

So that’s it…

And once again just for Steve: I didn’t go.

The End

Raise your right Army

Part VI

I sweated under the heat of the Queensland sun and the cream jacket. The Angels played on the radio like they did in the seventies. I sat in the back seat motionless.
I don’t remember much of the drive to Brisbane all I knew was that I was going and I didn’t really know why. I had the tie done up so I didn’t have to worry about it when I got there. We all sat. Mum, dad and me in the car hardly saying a word.
The Queensland heat is oppressive. So is the thought of being made to do something you don’t really want to do. But no one was making me do this. I was making me do it. It was all in motion-had been for a while. I couldn’t pull out now.

From the defence department car park we made our way to the front door where we said good bye. I don’t remember if anyone cried but I remember feeling like I was going to throw up all over my new jacket, the road, mum, dad and the entire defence department. The jacket was killing me. I watched my parents fade into the undulating busy Brisbane street- swept away with a small sea of unknown faces.

They were gone and so was I. 

 I walked into a room filled with more unknown faces-mostly faces around the age of 18 standing by their respective suitcases, different coloured jackets. Some of them also had ties on, some looked happy, some looked like me; scared.

 A big fat sergeant with a smile out one side of his face walked in. I shit myself; As much as I use to shit myself playing rugby league at school. I loved the game but it frightened me.

It was down to this. Before he made us raise our right hand to take the oath he said a few simple words; Words that triggered something in me.
“Once you take the oath boys we got ya!” the sergeant bellowed. It was something about the way he emphasised the words WE GOT YA. It echoed in my frightened head. WE GOT YA. WE GOT YA

‘RAISE YOUR RIGHT HAND’ he said

We all raised our right arm with our palms facing outward with a bend at the elbow.
I heard it again: WE GOT YA-WE GOT YA- there was no bend at my elbow, my hand continued towards the ceiling. I held my arm straight up in the air like a school child wanting to use the toilet. It stood out above the other arms-it shot up like an emergency flare.

The sergeant looked at me. I said the only word I could say at the last minute before I was on a bus for 6 years-I said a very quiet but resolute word; one word.

‘Wait.’

That’s all: ‘Wait.’

They did. It worked.

They took me aside. I told them I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t plan to say it. I got as close as you could get to being in the army and pulled out. I had pulled it off. It was over.

After a brief meeting with the captain and some bullshit on my part about a family member being sick they let me go with hardly a word. I was free. If I had of waited another three second I wouldn’t have been able to do what I wanted. As quick as I walked into the building I walked out. Just like that.

I walked outside, took the jacket off, loosened the tie and felt myself start to cool down. I slowly walked down Edward Street wondering how I was going to get home and what I was going to tell people. I was a free man- my time in the army was over.

Official time spent in the forces: negative three seconds.

To be continued…

Stay tuned for the next installment of Carl Barron’s “Raise your right army” coming Friday 30th September, 2011. Until then visit Carls website - www.carlbarron.com

Raise your right Army

Part V

There were two ways I could walk to town from my home. Down along the highway or up over the hill. It didn’t really matter which way I went it all depended on how I felt. Decisions like that make no real difference to your day.

Six years it would be. Six years of my life that i had only now considered would be six years of my life doing something I wasn’t sure I wanted to do. Everywhere I went I saw people who reminded me of the different ways of considering things. I would look at my dad and see some pride. At my mother’s silent face that reminded me of my capacity to be silent, and Carney who had just resumed his punk life where it had left off. I saw the woollen jacket folded next to some clothes mum had put aside for me. On top the brown tie I was to wear in a few days. I felt my body split in two. Half wanted to walk this way and half wanted to walk that way. I knew one thing for sure- and I had no real idea of how to make my mind up.
All I knew was that I felt sick. Constantly sick. I couldn’t figure- the highway or the hill.

I never asked them. Dad was a yes. Mum was a silent no. Carney a yes. The folded jacket: a yes. I had no capacity to find out what to do so I did what I had always done; nothing. The answer written in stone in the clear blue sky wasn’t there- it was a very dull day.

   Two days before i was scheduled to leave I went to a nightclub in Surfers Paradise by myself and got lost in loud music distracting lights and bourbon. I sat like I had done many times; by myself, staring onto the dance floor at all the different faces, listening to all the different songs not really thinking about anything in particular just gazing in hope that something might make sense. I waited for my brain to right itself.

The hill or the highway. I sat alone

From behind me I heard a voice. “Do you want a drink?”

I looked around and saw a tall man with blonde hair who looked vaguely familiar.

“Why are you asking me if I want a drink?” I asked defensively.

“Because you haven’t got one.”

I don’t know what it was exactly. Maybe the simplicity of the answer or the directness but i said yes and had a drink with a stranger because I didn’t have one.

Why not?

A stranger he wasn’t though- Judging by the pointing and whispering coming his way from the punters around us in the nightclub

“Who are you?” I asked.
“An actor.” he told me bluntly.

John Hargreaves I realised. The actor I had only just seen in the movie Odd Angry Shot; a movie I had seen a little while ago about Aussie soldiers. 

I was having a drink with a famous actor. I told him I was joining the army- the way you tell complete strangers at nightclubs stuff about yourself.
The words ‘You’re crazy’ were only said once but I heard it many times. He meant it. I saw his face flash from darkness to light with the effect of strobe disco light. Many times a second he changed from god to the devil and back again saying something I couldn’t say, even articulate; it was crazy to join the army I should do something else.

Perform he suggested. “Why don’t you perform you have a good face.”

To be continued…

Stay tuned for the next installment of Carl Barron’s “Raise your right army” coming Friday 23rd September, 2011. Until then visit Carls website - www.carlbarron.com

Raise your right Army

Part IV

Things went pretty smoothly from then. The kegs of beer had already turned up in mum’s back yard positioned next to the clothes line ready for the celebration- Two barrels of Carlton Draught. Family and friends who had now come to believe, along with myself that I was actually going into the Army. I had received the final confirmation for the last examination; the physical. Everything was all clear. I was fit I couldn’t believe it; especially after all the meat pies and chocolate milk I’d drunk while being unemployed for the last year. I’d passed everything, even the psychological. I was a little surprised- I was sure I was slightly mental in some way.

I was going. It was happening. I couldn’t drink fast enough.

The music; supplied by my sister’s fancy new Akia stereo pumped out of the upstairs window as me, my friends and family partied and tried to dance-all in honour of me. Though part of me knew as well they did that it was just another piss up.

    Mum, in her own silent way had made a quiet pre-emptive attack. She’d already gone out and bought me a going away present before I had even received the final acceptance letter from Headquarters; A brown tie and a woollen jacket. I didn’t know how to tie a tie. She would do it up for me on the day- I was still a boy. And in case it cold on the bus to Kapooka; a cream coloured woollen zip up jacket. I was ready to fight- though I was starting to look a little bit like a Mormon. I knew she didn’t really want me to go. But I partly blame her; she was the one I use to sit with and watch The Sullivans with week after week getting the idea that the army might be fun, that it might be like it was on TV. And Carney. He was the one who said ‘Lets join.’

 All I had to do know was go to Brisbane take the oath and that was that. Done.
But something unexpected happened that night that took the edge of the party for me. That took me by surprise. I didn’t see it coming. Carney turned up and told me that he had been rejected.

He couldn’t go.

Asthma.

They couldn’t have soldiers with Asthma. I never knew it would be a problem. The armed forces of Australia didn’t want combatants running over hills towards the enemy out of breath. Fair enough I thought, but I was devastated and pretended I wasn’t. I drank that night with my friends and family. They all toasted to my journey but the beer didn’t taste that good anymore. It went flat. My punk buddy wouldn’t be coming with me. He was the reason I was going.  We were supposed to do it together.

The party was in full swing- people were already half drunk wishing me well. I kept it to myself and joined in as best I could. But for the first time since we decided to join the army I began in a small way to doubt what I was doing. It was a little doubt but a big party. Tonight was supposed to be a happy night with people who cared about me. Doubt now blended with fear. Mixed with beer. Mixed with sausage sandwiches. It didn’t feel good. I drank, ate and tried to forget about it.

To be continued…

Stay tuned for the next installment of Carl Barron’s “Raise your right army” coming Friday 16th September, 2011. Until then visit Carls website - www.carlbarron.com

Raise your right Army

Part III

From the day we both rang the Defence Department in Brisbane and booked our respective appointments in Edward Street it all became a bit of a blur- a very exciting blur. A blur that was going to sort my life out for a whole bunch of years I hadn’t even contemplated yet. No need to worry about money, food, or what to do with your day- it would be all organized; by someone else. Just like living at home with your parents except there would be no one there to cut the fat off your steak. At least for once we wouldn’t cop any shit for wearing big black boots on a sunny day.
 
I was in fantasy land. The leave I imagined after training would be just like in the movies. Port o calls in exotic destinations filled with beautiful women who loved us just because we were in uniform, The camaraderie with your buddies, the bar room brawls where no one ever got hurt, a drill sergeant who hated us in the beginning but liked us in the end. All my fantasies about the armed forces up until then were based on TV shows or the cinema. Not once did I consider that I could actually get shot and die- Maybe a flesh wound that’s all- but that would make me a hero back home right?  It didn’t seem that bad to me; in my head anyway.

However; besides the daydreams and the fantasies I was having- something else was happening I hadn’t accounted for; a weird thing I had never been accustomed to. With all the excitement going on about us and what we were about to do I noticed something I had barely ever noticed in my short life before; respect.
From my father, my friends, my siblings, even my mother who wasn’t too sure why we wanted to join the fighting forces; considering the fact that we were both natural pacifist with no intention to hurt or kill anyone- from all of them, we were now getting some kind of respect.

One day we were playing with plastic soldiers and the next we were about to transform ourselves from lazy disrespected no future punks to potential upstanding defenders of our country and everyone around us seemed impressed.
People spoke to us differently, looked at us differently. I had never experienced that kind of admiration before. It was almost as if they liked us. Even Carney’s dipshit arrogant cop cousin blurted out something like ‘good on ya boys.’ It was intoxicating. People were almost saluting us before we had even gained a single stripe. I had direction in my life, clear direction. It was simple; we were joining the Army and now people liked us- even people we didn’t like.

To be continued…

Stay tuned for the next installment of Carl Barron’s “Raise your right army” coming Friday 9th September, 2011. Until then visit Carls website - www.carlbarron.com

Raise your right Army

PART II

Most days Carney and I sat around eating meat pies washed down with Chocolate milk waiting for something to happen- anything. We played David Bowie’s Changes  to death-just to hear the cool part where he goes; Ch Ch Ch Changes-we stared out the window and talked about girls we pretended we hated abut actually liked and we often played with toy soldiers when no one was around.

There we were; Carney with his  Mohawk and the word ‘death’ written on his back- me with the buzz cut, black boots and braces sat on his mum’s lounge with blankets over our knees  forming make believe mountains for the miniature plastic soldiers that we had bought to play with. When we weren’t rebel punks on the cusp of the New Wave we were just boys playing with toy fighters trying to kill the boredom and the enemy. It was just another day in the life of two unemployed punks- Punks who weren’t popular at home because we didn’t have jobs and we didn’t really want jobs. All we wanted to do was perfect the Cockney accent and listen to the Dead Kennedys

One day we were watching a re-run of The Sullivans with our soldiers sitting in various positions over our legs waiting for another day to pass like all the rest when suddenly a cop walked through the door. Luckily for us it was Carney’s cousin Pete. Pete was slightly overweight and liked to criticize us both for always sitting around doing nothing. We weren’t doing nothing- we were fighting a war I thought. I usually just ignored him and waited for him to go away. Carney did the same but had to be polite.

“What the hell you babies playing with?” he’d say with this fake laugh. ‘Piss off wanker.’ I would say under my breath loud enough so I heard it-not loud enough so he heard it.  I had to be careful-he had a gun, a real gun. I had a really small fake plastic one.

 Pete left like he always did thank god. Carney was silent, not speaking. I don’t know what did it and I wasn’t even sure if he was serious but he looked at me and out of the blue with no warning whatsoever said-“Hey Carl Let’s join the army.”

All I said was “OK” I don’t know why I said ok but I did- maybe it was all the episodes of The Sullivans making war look like fun or our day to day boredom making little look like fun or just the fact that Carney asked me, but I said yes without thinking and it felt good. I already had the haircut for it anyway- he didn’t, he would have to lose the Mohawk.

to be continued…

Stay tuned for the next installment of Carl Barron’s “Raise your right army” coming Friday 2nd September, 2011. Until then visit Carls website - www.carlbarron.com