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The Eleventh Scroll The Australian IRA Show
Among the frustrations of life in the antipodes is the ceaselessly nagging sense that everything really interesting or important is happening somewhere else. It is a pain felt especially acutely by aficionados of modern popular song, whose favourite artists are routinely dissuaded from touring by the immense distances, the punishing exchange rates and the flies.
However, Australians are, if nothing else, a resourceful bunch. By the end of the 20th century they have ceased complaining to each other that none of their beloved groups ever come to visit, and begun assembling local facsimiles. Tribute acts, they call them. There are Australian Abbas, Australian Pink Floyds, Australian Doors and still further Australian AC/DCs. When seen and heard from inside the alcoholic stupor that passes locally for conscious thought, you can scarcely live on the difference between the real and the not.
Extraordinarily, almost unaccountably, these acts become popular overseas, often in the very same countries which had spawned the original artists, who, by the time their Australian impersonators arrive, have died, retired, gone mad or lost interest, leaving their bereft adherents profitably unrequited.
At some or other juncture, this idea metastasizes into something far more sinister. Possibly the most startling disclosure to be found anywhere in the North Sea Scrolls is the news that the interminable and deeply tedious Anglo-Irish brouhaha quaintly known as the Troubles has in fact run its natural course by about 1974. Its turbulence and terror are perpetuated thereafter by carpetbagging Australian mimes and clowns eager to fill a gap in the market.
Among the frustrations of life in the antipodes is the ceaselessly nagging sense that everything really interesting or important is happening somewhere else. It is a pain felt especially acutely by aficionados of modern popular song, whose favourite artists are routinely dissuaded from touring by the immense distances, the punishing exchange rates and the flies.
However, Australians are, if nothing else, a resourceful bunch. By the end of the 20th century they have ceased complaining to each other that none of their beloved groups ever come to visit, and begun assembling local facsimiles. Tribute acts, they call them. There are Australian Abbas, Australian Pink Floyds, Australian Doors and still further Australian AC/DCs. When seen and heard from inside the alcoholic stupor that passes locally for conscious thought, you can scarcely live on the difference between the real and the not.
Extraordinarily, almost unaccountably, these acts become popular overseas, often in the very same countries which had spawned the original artists, who, by the time their Australian impersonators arrive, have died, retired, gone mad or lost interest, leaving their bereft adherents profitably unrequited.
At some or other juncture, this idea metastasizes into something far more sinister. Possibly the most startling disclosure to be found anywhere in the North Sea Scrolls is the news that the interminable and deeply tedious Anglo-Irish brouhaha quaintly known as the Troubles has in fact run its natural course by about 1974. Its turbulence and terror are perpetuated thereafter by carpetbagging Australian mimes and clowns eager to fill a gap in the market.
Only one man ever suspects the truth, an Irish musician as it happens, whose own works are much mimicked across the great southern land by tribute acts including Probable Corrs, Miles Off Corrs, the Corrs of True Love Never Did Run Smooth, and Corrs Blimey. Sadly, because this same Irish musician suspects the truth about so much more besides, his warnings languish largely unheeded. But that's showbiz.
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