Farewell dear listeners… This is our last podcast for the year, and possibly forever… Who really knows, and who cares? Have we done something spectacular to mark the occasion? In a way. Its Christmas time so we’ve tried to theme it accordingly with music, stories, and over-indulging to the extreme (to the detriment of of the show). Please try to ignore the sounds of inflating balloons… Merry Christmas!
Dan and Dave discuss selling out and give very little detail about the Axe and Barrel, a small hidden bar in Marrickville where you’re probably not welcome. Dave muses he will one day get lemon juice in Dan’s eye, and is pleasantly surprised half an hour later. We talk about Dan’s brush with death and how the show might improve if he actually did die. Dave unapologetically shitcans Nestle after they refuse to send him a packet of Fantales. A number of articles involving tradies are mentioned. And the boys deal with the most gruesome How Low Would You Go ever heard on the air. The Demon makes a triumphant return and listener Croy reads out the most recent Nosily Nathan.
“My nose knows no smell
That does not cause delight
If ever I died my hell
Would be to lose this sense of mine
I love the smell of flowers
And even a wet dog
To smell for me is heavenly
My nose to me is God”
Nathan thought back to his third year in school where he had asked his teacher, Ms. Bulldyke if he could read a poem he had written to the class. He had poured his heart into the poem the prior weekend, sitting out on the porch of his family home. It had been a humid day and the smell of an afternoon sun shower hitting the tarmac on the road had inspired him to try his hand at poetry; it was as if the kinetic energy from the gathering storm guided his hand. The words flowed from him and by the time he had finished he was sure he had penned a masterpiece.
His poem wasn’t well received.
Nathan was already a pretty unpopular kid and this rudimentary attempt at writing really solidified his social standing for him, it was the last nail in the coffin. Fat George, who Nathan had always considered to be the least popular kid (for he had shit his pants twice in the first three weeks of school), got a tonne of laughs when he yelled out ‘faggot’ – and that wasn’t the only problem: Nathan went to a severely religious school and the Bulldyke didn’t like the fact that he thought his nose was God. For this she put him on bin duty for four consecutive weeks – little did she know that Nathan would enjoy this punishment, spending his lunchtime picking up rubbish – the smell of bin juice particularly exciting him.
A week later whilst Nathan was on bin duty, a group of kids led by Fat George approached him and knocked him to the ground. They shoved his face in a pile of dog shit.
“Do you like the smell of THAT faggot?” Fat George hollered with glee.
Riding in the car with Barbara, Nathan wondered if he could trust her. The name Big Mal was particularly concerning to him – it sounded like a grownup version of Fat George, a name that had become synonymous with his mistrust in humankind. Although Nathan had secretly enjoyed the smell of the steaming dog turd that fateful lunchtime, it had also definitely created some trust issues for him.
“What’s on your mind?” Barbara asked sweetly.
“Nothing.” Nathan replied sheepishly.
“Well… I guess I don’t normally get in the car with strangers.”
“You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Barbara smiled and put her hand on Nathan’s thigh, only an inch away from the tip of his penis. Luckily for Nathan, his rod was still in an unresponsive stupor from the cinema incident – otherwise he would have embarrassed himself yet again. Barbara beamed.
“You’re gonna love Big Mal. He’s a great guy.”
The car had passed through to the seedy side of town whilst Nathan had been reciting his infantile poem. As he looked out the window and the city lights faded behind him, he didn’t have time to entertain all the bad things that could possibly happen to him – Barbara had sharply and abruptly turned into an alley.
“Get out.” She said sternly, and then burst out laughing when she saw Nathan’s ghoulish expression.
“Just kidding.’ Barbara said, patting his thigh again, this time brushing past his meatwand. Nathan almost died when he looked down and was reminded of the gargantuan semen stain born from his accident.
They got out of the car and Nathan followed Barbara into the darkness.
“Wait here.” She said as she fumbled through her handbag. Nathan couldn’t see a thing. The alley smelt of damp newspapers. He heard a door unlock and then felt the warmth of the room on the other side. They both scarpered in from the cold.
“This place was originally a bank.” Barbara said as she took her coat off, revealing her sumptuous fun bags. “When the recession hit it closed, and it was eventually bought in the early 1930s and turned into a bakery. The bakery was actually a front for an illegal whiskey distillery, the old bank vault being the perfect hiding place. Eventually the owner was caught and gaoled, and my Grandfather managed to score this place at a police auction – it’s been in the family ever since.”
Nathan weakly smiled at Barbara’s family history. He was terrified.
“Anyhow, you must be freezing. Come with me.”
Barbara motioned and Nathan followed. They passed through the first room and in front of them stood a glorious old bank safe, which read ‘Mosler LLC’. Barbara began working the safes main handles, her breast jiggling around as she entered in the combination.
As Barbara pulled the safe door open, music became present and grew from a soft hum to deafening heavy metal and Nathan’s nose started to spasm as it was hit with the most aggressive cocktail of scents he had ever come across. He could smell incense (Nag Champa he mused), leather, the smell of disinfectant on stainless steel and a whole galaxy of massage oils and lubricants. As they stepped through the door a short, squat man in a gimp mask presented himself. He was in his birth suit save for a small leather thong, and he wore leather straps across his barrel chest.
“G’day mate, I’m Big Mal.”
The man held his arm up, and squeezed the life out of Nathan’s hand when he embraced and shook.
Nathan fumbled. Socially bereft, a caricature of himself.
“Well how was the movie, Barbara?”
“Well… it was interesting, that’s for sure. Say Mal, would you mind showing Nathan around?
Nathan was bemused by the name Big Mal, there was nothing big about this rotund, nugget of a man. Nothing he thought, until Big Mal removed his gimp mask.
“Anything for you Barbara. Follow me, Nathan.”
Expect the usual drunk fumbling for thoughts, crude musings, and a few laughs. We have a lengthy discussion about Simon’s Perth holiday (but disregard Jake’s Gold Coast holiday). Simon pens a lengthy chapter of of Nosily Nathan and critiques Jake’s unprofessional reading of it. The Devil’s Advocate segment is again performed by Jake, only this time as Mrs. Doubtfire (for no reason other than to entertain Simon… and hopefully the listeners). The boys discuss the death of Bhumibol Adulyadej, (ex)King of Thailand and Simon follows up last episode by getting in touch with the good people over at Chiko Roll. Spoiler alert! Jake and Simon kind of review the new Shin Godzilla film.
“Who, me?” Nathan blurted out.
He looked up to see a vision. A woman, who less than an hour ago had been a mirage. Nothing but a sexual fantasy, lit by the flickering of a cinema screen. Now in the soft light of a lazily retiring day, Nathan could see her face clearly. Her golden hair caught snowflakes like a garden spider’s web catching falling autumn leaves. The chilly weather had gently bitten her cheeks. And nose… turning them the same pink as a choice cut of salmon.
“You’re making me cold just looking at you” the woman said jokingly.
Nathan looked down at his knocking knees (they were actually knocking!). Were they knocking Because of the cold, or because Nathan was now nose to nose with an unattainable fantasy, who was in his reach? He wasn’t sure.
In the dwindling daylight, the stains on his shirt and trousers were much less obvious.
Thoughts of castration and flagellation evaporated from his mind faster than a sneeze. What good was denying his taste for the central facial feature? He was warped, society would never understand his desire nor would they understand the pain he suffered keeping it secret.
A trip home from this woman would mean nothing to her, but the memories for Nathan would last forever. He glanced left and right quickly, checking to see if anyone from the cinema who had witnessed his sexual seizure was around. Nathan looked into her nostrils and said:
“Yeah, a ride would actually be… helpful.”
“Hop in darlin’!”
Nathan ran around to the passenger side, and eased himself in, careful to keep his arms in front of his sinful stain.
The woman said with an outstretched hand. Nathan quickly threw a hand out and limply shook Barbara’s before replacing it over his disgraceful splotch.
“…And you are…?”
“Oh, I’m Nathan. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Barbara said with a wink that cutely crinkled her fabulous nose.
Nathan could feel his plums writhing, but the episode in the cinema had left them unable to respond.
As Barbara checked the mirrors for traffic and started the car back onto the road, nathan took a moment to look around. The car was kind of cluttered. On the back seat there was an esky, several pairs of scissors, pruning shears, and quite a bit leaf litter. Who was this woman?
Nathan’s eyes shot down to see a message appear on Barbara’s phone. It was from someone listed as “BIG MAL” and read:
Can you come round? I really need you.
A lover. Of course! A nasal nymph like Barbara couldn’t come without a hitch. She was glorious, why wouldn’t a man have secured her? Nathan felt awkward and regretted getting into the car. What was he hoping for? This beautiful stranger to submit to his strange fetish and allow him full access to her sublime schnoz?
“That’s my business partner.” Barbara said, as if reading Nathan’s disappointed thoughts. “Gotta swing by work. Do you mind?”
“Umm, not at all” Nathan said – slightly worried.
Episode 17 rolls in with 17 hours, 17 minutes and 7 seconds of shoddy podcasting in the bag – enough as Simon says, to provide some (burdensome) entertainment on a direct flight to Dallas… you gotta wonder how you would feel after being subjected to that. This week The boys address a current political argument – where did the Chiko Roll originate (Australian politicians were literally talking about that…). Jake delivers a startling Monologue Museum and attempts a Devils Advocate. Another erotic nose fiction chapter is revealed as well as a haunting piece of audio Simon dug up from the archives!
Welcome back listeners! Jake and Simon have been away for some time but fear not – they have returned with a bumper 63 minute long episode. ‘How low would you go?’ is explored TWICE, thanks to two listeners writing some disturbing scenarios. Jake revisits his paranoia that bananas are going to become extinct. Simon has written the most melancholy chapter of nose erotica the world has ever heard, as well as reading the worst Harry Potter fan fiction the internet has ever produced. Plus a whole lot of quarreling, laughing, belching and general faffing about.
Nathan left the cinema a broken man. As he had laid on the sticky foyer floor covered in semen and thrashing about trying to cover his still fairly monstrous erection, Scott had sweetly attended to him. Looking up Scott’s immense nostrils whilst the young man tried to help him to his feet proved too much for Nathan, triggering a second, almost fatal ejaculation. Nathan lost consciousness as a crowd formed around him, jeering and whooping with laughter, their phones in hand recording this disastrous moment of his life.
A few blocks from the cinema Nathan began to force back tears, but it was no use. They flowed from him like a fontanal of mucus from a nose slight with flu; soft tissues leaving a gentle rash ever so slightly
As Winter’s first snow fell from the sky and delicately wafted past his… face, Nathan made a vow to put a stop to his silly predilections and to move on with his life. The road ahead would be cruel – this annex to his soul would only add to his lonely and tortured existence, his only comfort and solace would be the support group for obscure fetishists that met trimonthly at the community hall in his neighbourhood.
There he would meet Helga, the woman with an insufferable affliction for armpits and Bernie, who couldn’t get off unless someone was crushing his testicles with a rolling pin. He would sit and listen to their stories, spoken candidly and unabashed yet would always be too afraid to contribute to the groups discussion.
The long, cold nights were cruel and when he was at his worst he would go through the strange ritual of plugging both his nostrils with wax and putting a hessian bag over his nose to deprive himself of his debaucherous disposition, to smother his sexual snare for sniffers. He longed to watch Gerard Depardieu perform Cyrano de Bergerac once more, or to watch Steve Martin’s hilarious antics in Roxanne, or even childhood favourites Pinocchio and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (for Robert Helpman’s role as the Child Catcher) or anything with Groucho Marx in it. Instead he would commit to a form of self-flagellation, viciously punching himself in the nose repeatedly until he would sleep; His nose eventually losing all sense of smell and resembling the hideous nair of a heavyweight boxer.
For now though he decided, as he trudged through the bitter frost, he was going to go to the nearest bar and drink himself into oblivion, drink until the night’s events were a vague memory and he could somehow find the humour in it all. A car pulled over from the road and slowed down next to Nathan, then, the mellifluous sound of a woman’s voice:
“Hey, can I give you a ride somewhere.”
It was the chick with the big tits from the cinema.
Nathan could not resist glancing sideways every time bright flashes from the cinema screen revealed the curvature of the Woman’s breasts and gently flaring nostrils.
A clumsy lick of her choctop had left a dollop of vanilla ice cream dangling from the tip of her nose like a little white spelunker. Oh how Nathan envied that dairy droplet – swinging gently from the most glorious facial feature. Nathan could feel movement in his trousers. He casually adjusted himself to secret his arousal, tucking his erect penis into the top of his trousers waist line, and tightening his belt to keep impulsive organ in check.
Just as Nathan had secured his member in its new position, the woman’s tongue shot out of her mouth and cleared the creamy dangler from the tip of her nose.
Nathan’s testicles tightened and drained themselves of their fluid. Because of the repositioning of his bell, the streams of sticky white spunk exploded into his shirt! He knew he didn’t have much time before the ejaculate seeped into the fabric. His face hot, feeling lightheaded, Nathan sprung to his feet and bolted from the cinema. He was walking at a brisk pace so as not to draw too much attention but as he passed the restrooms the door opened and Nathan collided with a man and fell to the floor on his back.
“Oh! I’m so sorry mister! Let me help you up!”
A familiar voice said. Nathan looked up to see the friendly face of Scott.
Jake and Simon are painfully sober and ramble on like idiots. After Jake explains his absence, we launch into a brand new segment ‘Simon Says’, read out Jake’s new chapter of the erotic nose fiction, discuss the divine being in the toilet, talk about the perils of drinking ceiling juice, corporate sponsorships, rehearse a transcript from a recent murder case and some poorly written fan fiction, do some monologue museum and talk about obese Kookaburra’s.