GOOKER GETS THE SCENT OF FISH

Barry "Lead Me to the Water" Gooker caught the scent of fish over the weekend.

He was promoting yet another new single.

"IF I'M BEING HONEST," said the Commode Odor, flexing his hebdominal muscles while his friend Roll Unclear salved them with piggy-pig grease, "I'm not a youngster anymore. I'm 71. I can't deal with young women, just old farts who say 'Shine On!' to me as they buy me another round of beer."

Says Gooker, "The new single is a cautionary tale. If you can't get it up, you're doing down." Since he no longer talks to his lyricist "Teeth" Reid, he wrote the lyrics himself. "I wish I could remember them," he laughs. "I couldn't even do it on the single. I just bellow. I guess the single will not chart!"

That last line was a sardonic reference to Robin Verger, the pot-bellied "LARD OF THE FRUIT SALE," who spends his diffident, dronish existence shopping for loser-singles that he can lard over. Robin likes to feel superior to people who at least tried to accomplish something in life, beyond sucking cock at The Pleasuredome, and sitting his ass in a boat and babbling incoherently about what fish he did or did not catch.

Gooker, who spends most of his time checking his bank statements, eating curry, and getting drunk at parties with scrubby-faced old "fans," hardly ever writes new songs. "What can I write about? I don't do anything. About all I do is change the pattern of my goat-beard. I keep my nostril hairs nice and bushy so that I breathe through my mouth. This helps me keep up my trademark shouting, which some call singing."

Barry hopes to maintain his schedule of less than a dozen performances a year. "We may see about adding The Pleasuredome," he admits. "It depends on how well the gay singles do. So far, they have not charted. We will be playing Butt Sins soon, and hope to sell copies at the gig. We're taking a chance with this new song about fishing, and fishy twats, which we may premiere in FINland. Get it? Ha! But I don't know, our set list is set in stone, and we don't normally vary it at all. Our dull, boring fans just want to hear the same shit over and over again. And none of them have sex of any kind, not with a man, or woman, or even alone. I mean, can you imagine ROLAND..."

At this, Gooker began to cough violently. A projectile came flying out of his nose. "Oh, you may think it's tobacco or a plug of nostril hair," Gooker said, "but it's snot."

ROLAND appeared out of nowhere, hoisting a pint and declaring, "An old joke is worth repeating!" And then he said, "My name is ROLAND," several times.