Comedic duo Sammy J and Randy are both in attendance today. Beneath Randy’s seat is a boom box, which, like the gun in a short story, he’ll pull out at the most opportune time. Beneath Sammy J’s seat is a One Bun For Fun Rancho Chickenito Insalata Caprese Subwich Ciabatta, which like the condom in a porn film, he’ll pull out right on time to cover his penis.
I wish I were kidding.
That’s what I get for asking if they’re intending on wearing underwear during their Difficult First Album Tour. “Who needs underwear when you’ve got one of these bad boys?” responds Sammy J, standing up to flash me his genitals, semi-concealed by the sub. “It’s all part of our special meal deal for this month only at our new regional sandwich chain store One Bun For Fun,” Randy pipes in. Look out for it in a suburb near you.
One Bun For Fun, that is, not Sammy J’s genitals. Though we wouldn’t rule the latter out.
After sitting on their first album for eight years, “waiting to get Daryl Somers to agree to play drums for the recording,” explains Sammy J, their dream finally came true and their first album was recorded. The catch? They’re now forced to tour the nation, including the 10th Annual Sydney Comedy Festival to pay their deficit.
“The tour is a shameless cash grab in order to pay off the massive debt we incurred during the production of the record,” says Randy. “Daryl Somers isn’t cheap, that’s for damn sure,” agrees Sammy J.
Before I can get out my next question, Sammy interrupts. “Have you tried our new Rancho Chickenito Insalata Caprese Subwich Ciabatta?” he asks. “It’s part of our special meal deal this month at One Bun For Fun,” Randy finishes. I’ve a suspicion I’ll be craving a subwich by interview’s end.
If you’ve heard any of their Difficult First Album, the tour is much of the same. “The show is basically a live version of the album, but with us selling white goods between each song,” says Randy.
Okay, there’s a little more to their gig than shameless marketing and an album rehash. “There’s a special surprise that’s unique to every show of the tour,” assures Randy. Sydney’s comes equipped with insect repellent and a guinea pig. “Because who else is going to administer the insect repellant?” “The guinea pig will be driving us across the Nullarbor in our 1983 Volvo,” says Sammy J – which frees him up to sculpt the sauerkraut Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figurines promised for Perth’s stage. “It’s an old family recipe,” he says proudly. “They’re incredibly lifelike.”
As is their on-stage ritual sacrifice. “Each night we take a volunteer from the audience and sacrifice them live on-stage in a chilling reenactment of Scar’s death from The Lion King,” says Sammy. Randy plays a hyena. Sammy’s yet to be cast.
One thing’s for sure, they’re not playing this stage alone. They’ll be sharing it with their peers for the annual shits, giggles and laughter ritual. But what separates the giggle-worthy from the laughter larrikins? Randy’s got this one: “Not being shit,” he says. Shit. The word reads like code for celebration and before I can blink they’ve high-fived each other and Randy’s retrieved that boom box from beneath his chair. He hits play and the two start dancing to Savage Garden’s To the Moon and Back.
“I hope [our audience] gets out in the end,” chimes Sammy J as he wiggles uncontrollably, that subwich beginning to fail him and my craving for it disappearing. “Totally,” says Randy in Dance-Dance-Revolution unison. “Otherwise we’ll be in there for hours.”
Good luck all.