MADAZ AND MELANOSKI

These days it's not so much about being single as it is about being a singularity.

Odd things. Friday night, i'm driving home in my $100 automobile, a classic 1970 Madaz 1500 wagon. Styled by Bertone of Italy, no less. Managed to get the film submissions in to FTI at the last possible moment. I stop outside the Italian Club in North Perth to reply to a text. The door of my Madaz opens, and some bloke climbs in. Do you know where the Brisbane is, he asks. Take me to the Brisbane. I sense he is pissed.Yeah mate, i know where the Brisbane is, but i'm not a taxi. The bloke is undeterred. He pulls a wallet out of his back pocket and extracts a note. Here's twenty dollars, he says, JUST TO SHOW I'M NOT CRAZY!

I'm thinking, this is a bizarre logic. I don't want your money, i say. Take it, he says. No, i say. Take it, he says. No, i say. Take it. No. Take it. No. Take it. No. Take it. No. Take it. No. Take it. OK i'll take it, i say, and drive him to the Brisbane. It's about a kilometre. Meanwhile he is stretching out, body rigid, pelvis thrust upwards, in the passenger seat. He is thrusting his pelvis up and down in an unusual manner while groping about at his backside. I elect not to comment. I'm not trying anything funny, the man says. It's just really difficult getting this wallet back into my pocket. I nod. You've been at the Italian Club, I suggest. Yeah mate. You've been on the grappa, I further suggest. His eyes roll back in his head. Oooh, the grappa, he exclaims. That's what did my head in. I probably shouldn't be going to the Brisbane, you know. I do know, but elect not to comment. I pull the Madaz up alongside the Brisbane's architecturally savvy exterior. MELANOSKI! he cries suddenly, and grasps my injured hand, and squeezes it as if it were the last lime in the world and he is desperate for a tequila. I'M FROM NORTHAM!

Half your luck, i say. GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT! Melanoski yells, elbowing me hard in the bicep. Sure, i say, somewhat confused. He elbows me again. We exchange more small talk. With each reply Melanoski elbows me hard in the arm. GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT! he yells finally, elbowing me in the arm and propelling himself out onto the pavement. I pull away quickly, straight to the Hydey drivethru to spend all the money on a bottle of red. I text Mayhem. We drink.

Saturday I catch up with Rob. He has a musical outfit together called Teenage Abortion. Rob and band member Phil write lyrics by exchanging lurid text messages. Rob and i go visit Catherine. We hook up with Felix from Bobby Blackburne and the BlueJays and head down to the Hydey to see what's on. The Kuillotines thrash away at their brand of theatrical punkrock. Rob is eyeing off a couple of girls, one of whom is ugly. Have a pint and let the beer monocle do its work, i suggest.

Sunday i am abducted and taken back to the dungeon. This time it is by Mayhem and Dan. They have been out filming Mayhem for her job as a host with the Discovery Channel's T5. Well, potential job. She needs to do a three minute piece to camera about herself, and for some eclectic reason or other has elected to do it whilst chained to the wall in a B&D dungeon. We get a very interesting interview with Karen the Dominatrix, and are introduced to Big Bertha and Junior and instructed in their use. I look after the lighting whilst Dan shoots from his elevated perspective. Very Tall is Dan.

After the dungeon, i suggest we take Mayhem to confession at St Mary's in Victoria Square, and film her laying bare her soul in the confessional (using night vision, of course) . We buy vodka and head off. Mayhem practices her interviewing technique for the Discovery Channel by introducing herself to all and sundry along Adelaide Terrace. It goes something like this: Hi, can I meet you? Hi, I'm Melinda. Where are you from. Oh really. Well, thank you. Goodbye. At Church, we discover Confession is not taken on Sundays, so we crucify Mayhem and get it on digital. I get busted for urinating on the church and a black woman who has been sniffing toluene asks us to photograph her. We oblige. Hi, I'm Melinda, says Mayhem. Back at Tod's we look at the vision on the big plasma screen. The morning's work by Dan at the Karrinyup market and King's Park is unsurpassed in its beauty. The dungeon stuff is just plain weird. We get ridiculously stoned and Mayhem passes out on the couch.

I spend a paranoid fifteen minutes wondering how to get home, and wondering which is more ethical, to abandon Mayhem on the couch or carry her out using the Fireman's Lift. She solves my dilemma by suddenly sitting bolt upright, asking me if we have all the equipment, and leaving, dragging me with her.

Did you know that the Italian for dugong is dugongo? i ask Mayhem.
Oh, no, i didn't, Mayhem says. I wonder what it tastes like. I have an idea for a TV show, i say. It's like an extreme sports slash cooking show, where you kill and eat your way around the world. To test whether an otherwise normal person would end up with an eating disorder like, say, vegetarianism, if they had to kill every piece of meat or fish they ate.
I'll see you tomorrow for coffee, she says. We'll talk about it then.