Jimbo’s ’City Cunt Country Cock’ tours

Next tour to be announced soon - city chicks, let me know if you’re interested.

I’ve noticed a lot of women in Sydney these days complain about how all the men seem to be either gay or married. I keep telling them, ’get out to the country, it’s a sausage factory out there’.

Anyway, I’m a doer not a talker so I have come up with the idea of starting Jimbo’s ’City Cunt Country Cock’ tours. I’m trialling the first one on Saturday March 29th. I’m hiring a bus and taking city chicks from Sydney, up to my mate’s ’Gibbo and Colleen’s’ Paxton Hotel (google it) in the lower Hunter Valley, for the night to meet some real country blokes.

Blokes who are real shy before their tenth beer (there will be no poofter wine drinkers in this pub), funny and charming from beer 10 to 15 and incoherent and useless thereafter.... but with hearts of gold. Word has gone out and all the Paxton boys are keen, pumped and prepared to shower and wear their good work gear on the 29th.

Please note. The men at this pub are not desperate for women. They’re just desperate to meet women who aren’t related to them. Just like city chicks aren’t desperate for men, they’re just bored with guys who look in the mirror more than they do. Anyway, I reckon there’s going to be some meeting of the minds on this tour and who knows? Maybe a pregnancy?

The bus will leave from Kings Cross (outside ’Bar Me’ cnr Brougham and William st), midday on March 29th for the two hour trip north to Paxton (near Cessnock) and comes back the next day when my mate ’Wayne’ sobers up enough to drive the bus.

I’ll be your tour guide throughout the weekend. This will include me MC-ing the ’City cunt, country cock’ special dating game called ’Perfect snatch’ - which will be a great way to break the ice with the locals. The trip will include dinner and breakfast, accomodation on top of the pub with three to a room (whoever pulls a root gets the double bed) and transport there and back to Kings Cross plus two complimentary songs on the juke-box*.

Pig hunting at 3am and dirt bike riding back to the pub in the morning is also available for the more ’adventurous’ city girl. Anyway it should be a top night.

There are 16 spots available for $100. There is an age restriction though. All girls must be over 18 and under 100. Please note, me and my mate ’Wayne’ are prepared to shag anyone who doesn’t pull a root but only as a last resort**.

This trip is all about a cultural exchange between city girls and country guys, so we will be strongly encouraging all girls to sample the local produce in order for the ’City cunt, country cock’ tours having the best chance of being invited back to the same pubs on future trips. I’m serious about this. First Sixteen ladies to contact me, get a ride. Otherwise turn up a Bar Me before Midday on March 29th and try your luck.

* From ’The Proclaimers’ back catalogue.
** Chicks over 80 will be be required to remove dentures.

Little known facts about country towns (like Paxton) where there’s a serious chick drought.

1) While there may seem to be not enough girls for the guys, there’s usually a few chicks in these towns rooting about twenty blokes each which evens things out a bit. Which makes country chicks a lot more scarier to city chicks than the country guys. It’s also why there are very few brothels in the country. One recently opened up in Cobar. It didn’t last long though, due to the working girl’s being run out of town by some of the local chicks. Their argument was, ’Why should these girls get paid for rootin’ guys we fuck for free?’

2) Country guys appreciate all woman’s company because it’s so rare. Therefore if a guy physically or sexually mistreats a girl, especially in public in these towns, there are usually about ten other other guys wanting to step in, be a hero and beat the shit out of the guy misteating the girl... in order to maybe get a chivalry root out of her later off down the track or off any other girl who hears about the story at the local supermarket the following Monday. This fact alone, makes country pubs a very safe place for women to let their hair down and enjoy themselves.

3) Male suicide is unusually high in the bush. The main group killing themselves aren’t middle aged farmers who have gone broke though. It’s late teenage/early 20’s guys who emotionally find the break-up of their first childhood romance extremely hard to deal with. Especiallly as their old girlfriend’s new romance is usually played out right in front of them each weekend at the local pub. As one broken-hearted guy once bitterly lamented to me over his twentieth beer, ’In this town, you don’t lose your girlfriend, you just lose your turn’

First ’City Cunt Country Cock’ Tour report.

There was a lot of interest for my 4C Tour idea from the ladies but only one chick who put her hand up and said ’I’ll come up to check it out’.

One person on the tour, ended up being a blessing in disguise for me though because I couldn’t afford a bus and my mate Wayne told me he had a ’dead cert’ lined up Saturday night and so couldn’t make it either.

Anyway Charlotte, an ex-girlfriend’s sister ended up coming up to check the joint out. She said she’d shown my myspace spiel around to a few of her single friends at the Flight centre place where she works and the feedback was this: It sounds like fun but when it comes down to the crunch, how do we know we’re not going to be molested by a three-toothed unemployed country Hick. I ensured Charlotte that most of the blokes in Paxton have at least five of their own teeth still left which doesn’t include any of their mate’s teeth which can still be occasionally found in their forearms.

So the first 4C tour ended up being a bit of a reconaissence mission, on the condition that I drove Charlotte back that night coz she had something on in the morning. I was stoked. My 4C tour idea was underway and hopefully from there the work of mouth amongst single chicks in Sydney would flow quicker than tissue paper sales at the local Paxton corner store.

After a two and a half hour drive and a great travel chat which included a dispute over how stoned I was the last time we saw each other (at her sister’s 21st birthday party fifteen years ago), we arrived at the Paxton pub.

We were instantly greeted by ’Haydo’ aka ’Paxton Batchelor of the year 2008’. Haydo is, twenty years old, a diesel fitter at the local mine, 150kegs and a heart bigger than Phar Lap, not to mention a few other body parts, like his ears.

I told him ’look Haydo, I know I promised you a busload of chicks but instead on this first 4C tour, I’ve bought quality not quantity’. And like a gentleman Haydo then ignored me and put his hand out to Charlotte and said ’Owyagoing?’

We were then greeted inside by the publican’s ’Gibbo and Colleen’. I’d met Gibbo and Colleen in 2004 when I did a show at the Molong RSL, just outside Orange. Gibbo bought one of my ’I fucked a goat’ shirts that night and then said to me ’You know what I like about these shirts Jimbo - it basically says I don’t give a fuck about what you think about me’". I then gave Gibbo a big hug and said, ’You understand the deeper underlying philosophical meaning of these shirts, Gibbo’. And we’ve been great mates ever since. They’ve managed three different pubs throughout NSW since then and always put me up give me a gig.

Gibbo and Coll, then gave Charlotte a big hug too and said welcome to the Paxton pub! Gibbo then went onto explain that there are ’no dickheads in this pub because we don’t allow them in’. He then showed us the long handle axe he keeps behind the bar just in case they do sneak in. Gibbo then let out one of his legendary laughs.

Terry Batu was doing a solo gig in the corner of the pub which has a wraparound bar. Terry is a legend guitar player and can even play the national anthem with his tongue plucking the strings. He’d driven seven hours to this gig from a West Wyalong gig, the night before. He had to drive via Sydney, to feed his dog.

Gibbo then took Charlotte on a tour of the pub upstairs.

Charlotte was impressed. It’s a lovely old style pub with a huge sweeparound balcony looking out onto the forests. Perfect, I suggested for the girls to chill, taste the local wine and have a giggle.

Gibbo explained that there’s only a shared bathroom but it’s clean and has got plastic flowers in it, plus pink handtowels to make the chicks ’feel at home’.

Charlotte commented that these old style type of pubs are really only in Balmain in Sydney now and the upstairs accomodation in these pubs is always now replaced by pool table rooms and extra bars.

Gibbo sucked back on his cigarette and said, ’Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ poofters pubs in Sydney. The lot of ’em’.

Charlotte then asked if there any gay guys in Paxton. Gibbo said, "Look there are a couple of gay guys who live in the hills who pop in every now and then for some piss but these guys are not ’poofter Gay guys’, they’re ’good bloke gay guys’. Other than that pretty well most of the guys are single here. In fact the people getting the most action in this town are the married women who take in a bit of the overflow on the side from the excess of young cock in the area".

It seems by all accounts that Paxton is a town where heaps of guys come into town to work in the nearby mines and heaps of girls leave once they’re 18 to chase the big, bright, lights of nearby towns like Cessnock.

Back downstairs, one of the local girls said, ’Most of the guys in Paxton only get laid when they go into Newcastle and visit a brothel everytime they have a win on the punt. All the chicks leave because the guys are no good’, to which Hydo and his mate Swampy then chipped in, ’How do they know we’re no good when they don’t even give us a go before they piss off?!’

With that there was a bit of an awkward silence and Haydo and Swampy went to the bar to get another drink.

I asked Swampy how he got his name. He said because there’s a swamp in Paxton. I then said " yeah but how did you get the name Swampy though?’.

He then said his Old Man used to be a good football player in the local football team which are known as ’The Paxton Swamp Wallabies’. ’And so yeah, I got the name Swampy’.

Anyway it made sense to me. And it also made me think, how hard it must be coming out of your father’s shadow when you’re Dad was such a legend footy player. Apparently Swampy’s dad nearly made it into the regional team.

Charlotte was telling me on the way up to Paxton that a lot of Sydney Chicks were into RSVP.com dating. I enquired with Haydo if he knew what RSVP was. He took a sip of his beer and said, ’That’s something you put on the end of a letter or something, isn’t it?’.

I then asked him whether he gets on the internet much. And he said he doesn’t know how to get into it. ’Have you got an email address?’, I asked. He said ’Na, I can fix a four tonne truck but computers don’t interest me’. For a young bloke Haydo had done well. He was on $140,000 at the local mine. He said he worked ’four days on, four days off’. Charlotte asked him what he does in his spare time to which Haydo replied, ’Ohh, you know, I come down here to the pub a bit, do a bit of banking and stuff while the shops are open, help my old man out and you know... I just live my life the way it’s meant to be lived. You know, without rushin’ around and stuff’.

And that to me summed up the Paxton fella. A good bloke, straight up with every one, with time on his hands to listen and help people out especally a women who wants a bit of attention. He then complained about how chicks who come in here just use the blokes. ’The last barmaid left to go to Scone’, he said. ’I helped her pack, drove me truck up there, unpacked all her stuff and got her into her new house and haven’t heard a word her since. Jimbo, she used me. And not in the good way I wanted to be used either’.

Haydo then went to the bar and got another beer.

There were a lot of other eligible bachelors at the pub as well. Including Trent who ’paints and does heaps of stuff for a job’. There was also Claus from Germany who was visiting the place where he was an exchange student fifteen years ago.

I did a bit of a set on the microphone explaining to the crowd how my ’City Cunt Country Cock’ idea was just kicking off and that next Saturday April the 5th, I’d hopefully be bringing up more girls so don’t forget to treat in them in the same lovely way, which they’d all treated Charlotte.

I then drove Charlotte home to Sydney. She said she’d had a top night and would see if she could convince some of her friends to come back with her next week.

Fingers crossed!