It’s paranoia uber alles tonight in a Melbourne town still in the grip of Jello Fever. A couple of weeks ago he turned back time with a blistering set at the Corner with his Guantanamo School of Medicine, and later tonight he will be dropping some wax at Cherry Bar.
But right now it’s all about his razor sharp wit. He comes in post apocalyptic in dark sunglasses telling us to Shut Up And Be Happy. He’s reading from notes, and he will continue to refer to these throughout the next three and a half hours, occasionally tangenting as the mood strikes him.
The number one problem gripping the world is not climate collapse, according to Jello; rather it’s wealth addiction. He believes that politicians should have corporate logos sewn into their suites like sports stars. The barbs fly “Christian supremacists love the unborn more than they hate kids,” the tea party? “Someone has to stand up for the stupid,” and when it all gets too heavy he invents band names for us, “Stone Pimple Toilets,” Brown Sabbath,” “Dyke Van Dick.” It’s a lot to digest; his cynical humour though is laced with a call to arms that is not just inspiring but particularly relevant to us. “ September,” he offers, “has not necessarily gone to the Abbotoir just yet.”