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Southern Exposure
Say what they will but a bit of southern comfort certainly wouldn’t go astray, writes Phil Scott.
NSW Roads Minister Eric Roozendaal was talking up Sydney last week by comparing our fair city to Adelaide. You may have noticed signs at some city railway stations saying: “If you were in Adelaide, you’d be home by now”. I myself saw one of these at 2am. At that hour, it was probably true.
Roozendaal’s witty comeback was along the lines of: Yes, but you’d be in Adelaide. It’s boring as shit. Or words to that effect.
I’m a Sydney boy, born and bred. I spent my formative years wandering the golden sands of Manly beach, gazing out at the sparkling Pacific as I made my adolescent way from one beat to the next. I lerv this town. Even so, I thought Roozendaal’s backhander was a bit much.
It’s so easy to pick on Adelaide. The place is a prime target for stand-up comic routines. Everyone knows it is Stephen King’s favourite city, because it’s quiet on the surface and weirdly murderous underneath.
Sure, it’s quaint – or it used to be. I remember a time when petrol was rostered there on Sundays. If you needed to fill up, you had to find one of the three service stations allowed to operate – and every Sunday it was a different three.
The Municipal Council banned the American satirist Tom Lehrer from performing there, because in his Boy Scout song ‘Be Prepared’, he suggested it might be a good idea to keep a condom handy. Most damning of all, Alexander Downer came from Adelaide.
But all of that is in the past. I’ve visited the Southern capital many times, and I can sort of see myself living there quite happily. (Does that mean I want to murder somebody? I hope not!)
For one thing, they have festivals. A fantastic Cabaret Festival. A bi-annual Arts Festival with real substance: I mean it actually takes place indoors for Chrissakes!
And, speaking of bi, there is also Feast, the GLBT festival. This event seems to go from strength to strength, because it’s a local celebration, catering to the needs and tastes of the community. It’s not trying to be bigger and more international each time, like the Mardi Gras Festival did before it imploded.
These festivals I could easily live with, not to mention all those restaurants, vineyards and bisexuals in the Adelaide Hills.
Most of all, Adelaide has the Mars Bar. It must be the longest running gay nightspot in the southern hemisphere. The decor’s grotty. The drag shows and clientele are variable.
If ever there was such a thing as a mixed venue, then the Mars Bar is it – but it reminds me what venues used to be like: friendly, tacky, definitely non-judgemental. Maybe I was won over by the fact that I picked up there, quite a few times, and my best friend in Adelaide dances there. (He’s done it for over ten years: imagine that in Sydney!)
Maybe the signs should say: If you were in Adelaide, you’d be on your third verdelho by now.
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