The Home Stretch & Why Meat Pie Pringles Suck: On Tour With Peter Bibby - Part Three

Although NSW provided us with many smiles and some of the funnest shows of the tour, we were all pretty happy leave the bustling state and head to Hobart, the land of things that are better than Sydney things. After ten or so days in NSW we were lucky to escape having only been dealt six gigs, eight interviews, two and a half doses of the flu, two cracked ribs, one Jehovah’s Witness, four parking fines outside our airbnb and at least 12 in-grown hairs between us all. Hobart, on the other hand, gave us OYSTERS (pictured). I gave Dave his first ever oyster during this time and he was unimpressed. This may give you some insight into several of the photos submitted in this final chapter of my tour diary.

As Dave and Swiss Army Pete had never visited Tasmania before, we did a bunch of touristing. We touristed local whiskey (pictured), art galleries, museums, pubs, we even considered climbing up Kunanyi/Mt. Wellington but were comforted by the fact we didn’t have time.

Our show at the Brisbane Hotel was looser than a goose. Dave retreated back to the hotel for sleeping very soon after we finished playing while SAP and myself continued drinking through the night and into the light of the following day. This picture illustrates the fact that sleeping leads to depression and drinking all night is the answer to all your problems. (Shout out to the Alabama Hotel, you guys make a mean bloody mary).

After a flight that lasted little to no time at all I was staring at my old stomping ground: MELBOURNE. There were some difficulties getting our hire car and had Dave and I been photographed during the time I was sorting everything out it would be proof that the final sentence of the previous paragraph is absolute bullshit. Anyway, everything was taken care of and off to our Coburg Airbnb Swank Palace we drove. Our place was kitted out with a pool table… 

… three fish which we named Hank, Ruddiger and Sweatcat… 

… and a sculpture baring an uncanny resemblance to hungover Dave.

I played a couple of Parlour shows at some nice peoples houses during the week and on our day off our good friend Rhi took us out to Turpin’s Falls which was fricken’ gorgeous. The water was cold on my West Australian flesh but lovely after I had lost all feeling in my body. Kind of like a sauna but the complete opposite. SAP didn’t want to get in the water so instead ate a banana.

During our time in Melbourne I came across the meat pie flavoured Pringles. This is a warning to everyone who reads this: these chips are the most vile, foul tasting crisps of horror I have ever come across. They are an insult to both the Pringle and the meat pie.

Petey got better at pool but generally Dave won. He was like a pig in shit with a competition grade pool table in his living quarters. He warned both SAP and I on the night we arrived that he was now in his arena and that we would both be shown no mercy. I think I beat him three games out of maybe 400. He was not bluffing. He is the ballerina of billiards, prancing around the table commentating his every move, his every move which brings you closer and closer to certain defeat. (No photos were able to be captured of the Ballerina of Billiards as his hue is much too bright orange, almost like the sun).

We had a gig out in Ballarat at The Eastern which about ten people came to see. It was a stressful day having our main support pull out that morning due to oral complications. It was now on us to find our own drums and bass amp and another support band. It’s strange how there is only 24 hours in a day but I spent 48 hours that afternoon sitting in traffic driving between suburbs collecting musical equipment. Enough traffic whinging, Tiny Giants stepped up to the plate and were amazing, not to mention Fuzzsucker (pictured looking like a toy being dragged around on a leash) who may now be employed as full time hype man for The Eastern. 

The following night we played by far one of the best shows of the tour at The Evelyn. One of the most difficult things on this tour was having to make do with what ever gear was available to us. I hate to sound like a diva, but certain amplifiers don’t quite have what it takes to harness our canine style. We were kitted out with staunch amps and a lovely sound engineer and it was one of the few shows that actually felt natural with no compromises made. At this point, we have no photographic evidence of this gig happening however here is this photo of SAP the following morning after we spent the night with our soul brother Myles. Dave looked much like the sculpture shown earlier in this piece.

We got our things together, said goodbye to our Swank Pad and the fish and made our way out to Kennedy’s Creek to play our final away-show. The gig was great and I’m so happy we were booked to play such a unique event but I must say the highlight of KC for me was learning how to better communicate with cows.

I’m typing this up on an aeroplane bound for Perth and it feels like only yesterday/17 lifetimes ago I was leaving Perth for Adelaide only three-four weeks ago. You may be able to see the lack of sleep in my eyes in the attached photo, I’m no longer able to hide how shit I am at going to bed when I’m running around the country playing rock n roll with my best boys. Big frosty cheers to everyone who helped us out, made us laugh, got us pissed, gave us beds, bought our shit, you’re all legends, let’s all do this together again sometime sooner rather than later.

Thanks for reading,

Peter xoxo