06 April 2009

A Eulogy for Keith Urban...

...who is not actually dead. Don't write in.

No doubt you've been following the year-long Urban Decay that's been going on over Jo Blogs' way (and if you haven't, do. You'll be entertained. Unless you love Keith, in which case I'll be entertained). Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, I was unable to make it to Keith's final farewell, where the last shards of his most recent musical output were to be ceremonially flushed. But, just like a country singer, I didn't want the occasion to slip by without putting pen to paper and hacking out some poignant, if totally unnecessary, words:

What can I say 'bout a bloke named Keith?
With his foil-streaked hair and his perfect teeth,
With his gin-soaked life
And his skinny useless wife
And a catalogue of whining twangy piffle to bequeath?

Oh, what can I offer such a fellow as our Keith?
For I can't attend his funeral and I can't afford a wreath.
But I can jot this epithet
On a dirty serviette
And say "Adios, you boring twat. I'll see you Underneath".


  1. Can't... see...

  2. Jo, you do know this is code for, "Hurry up and blog the funeral, you slack cow", don't you?

  3. Hey, I've got a Keith... is this about him? and are you saying I'm his skinny useless wife? SKINNY useless wife???

    Thanks Shell! You're a true buddy.

  4. Rach, I can write a whoooole new poem about your Keith, if you like.

    Might be a bit short though. All I know is that he knows a lot about the sun, likes cuddles and builds very good shelves.

  5. Tah-rah, that's the best poem ever! That's the kind of eulogy that makes you WANT to die, just so it can be used.

  6. That's about it! Except that he is also scared of buttons, doesn't use shampoo and, in private, often speaks in a funny voice as a character he calls Choo-Choo Delaney.

    Can you work with that?

  7. Hello fellow central coast buddy. Love finding neighbours in the big wide blogging