Dave and Wal Show

CHAPTER 1

Work on the 5-level 'Faraway Apartments' being built in a southern suburb of Sydney halted when the developer lost his shirt in a 72-hour gambling spree and jumped off a cliff into reputedly shark-infested waters of a tidal inlet but it was low tide and the exposed rocks claimed him.

Two university dropouts, Dave Jellicoe and his best mate Wal Slater, were unceremoniously dropped into unemployment. They were paid off when being declared redundant but were resentful.

"We didn't get our overdue six-monthly bonus," Dave said sourly over his beer.

"Yeah we should extract our revenge," said his mate.

The Sydney Morning Herald reported next day the home of recently deceased property developer Archibald Clearway had been razed to the ground by fire overnight due apparently to an electrical fault. Wiring of the gracious 150-year old homestead was considered substandard. Mr Clearway's constant companion, well-known female impersonator Philip Glass, was away grieving at his parents' home in Noosa at the time of the fire.

Dave leader of the duo said, "What an unfortunate loss to the receivers winding up Arch's cash-strapped business. What do you want to do now?"

"We should grab a couple of cooperative shelia's and have a week of excess in Hunter Valley, drinking famous reds and teaching those female what a real foursome is like."

"Wal please, try to find your nicer side. We need to be back in employment before we can afford to waste money on debauchery."

"Then let's get a job."

"The labor market is really tight now, back to being union-controlled in these times of economic recession and those guys make sure the few jobs that are going go to brethren."

"That's not fair."

"Whoever but you believe bosses and unions could be fair Wal? I'm going home because a bed and food will be provided free. Keep in touch."

Wal sniffed, "Where will I go?"

"Home."

"But my mother had remarried."

"You idiot, walk in and show them who is boss."

Wal spent the next six weeks with his arm in a splint. He'd never realized his mom could fight dirty. He had her new husband in a headlock when she slammed the marble rolling pin against his upper arm, fracturing the humerus.

He howled in pain and she was so sorry. When she returned with him from the hospital A&E she said he could stay.

Later that week Dave watched his sister Judy making brownies and wished she would wear a nightdress that didn't have a split up the back because looking so far up the back of her thighs was making him horny. He watched her baking and kept looking at her legs, being ignorant until now that Judy had developed great pins. He adjusted the crotch of his pants and mused what else had she developed that would interest a guy?

Judy was about to start scooping out the mix when he said, "You've forgotten the cup confectioners' sugar."

"Oh god thanks. Since when did you learn to cook?"

"Never really but I get by doing the basics after having spent years watching mom and our aunts cooking. Wal is hopeless at cooking so I do meals and he cleans up."

Judy added the sugar, put the Brownies into the oven and turned on the timer.

"How can I reward you?" she smiled.

He suggested something.

She blushed hugely and called him a foul bastard.

"Okay, forget it."

But Judy found she was interested.

"Show me your dick and then I'll decide."

Judy was at the kitchen table stepping out of her panties when their mother came in.

"Judy what the hell are you doing?"

Judy made the mistake of saying nothing.

"You lying little bitch. Go to your room. God Dave put that ugly thing away."

Dave made coffee for his mom and she cooled down at bit. He then removed the brownies and she praised him for being about to cook so well. He didn't mind taking the credit.

"It's a pity more young men like you can't cook. They spend too much on buying junk food and eating out expensively."

That comment gave Dave and idea. He went over to one of his mate's home with a half dozen cans of bitter. Frank also lived at home, finding it was cheaper.

"Hi come in," Frank said, eyeing the beer.

Dave tossed him a can and as he ripped open the tab he said casually, "Eva home?"

"Yeah only just. She won't be interested in you. Charlie Hamill is shafting her."

"That's cool. I wish to talk business."

"Ha what business, you're unemployed?"

"Then I'm off," Dave said, picking up the four full cans.

"Eva!"

The pretty brunette came out in just a robe.

Both guys looked at the top curves of her tits and licked their lips.

"Oh hi Dave. Found work yet?"

"I want to do a program on TV. You still work in TV don't you?"

"Yeah. So what experience have you had and how many shows on your CV Dave?"

"What's a CV?"

"Oh God."

Frank said, "He's pulling your tit Eva."

"Oooh."

Both guys looked at her tits again and she stared back unperturbed.

"Get me the chance to talk to the person in charge of developing local content Eva."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Wal Slater and I want to present a cooking show."

"We have enough of them already."

"Ours would be unique, billed as preliminary steps for guys who want to know how to cook. And we'll ham it up."

"We'll I guess you could ham it up, you both are idiots."

"You never used to speak to me like that when..."

Eva colored hugely and said, "Yes I'll do it."

Her brother yawned and said gee that was a quick change of mind and Dave tossed him another can.

* * *

Dave and Wal waited on the kitchen set in the studio nervously.

"Do you think we can pull this off?" Wal asked and was told they were about to find out.

A blonde with cute tits and a fleshy mouth, probably aged just under forty, came in and said, "Hi I'm Biddie Jacka, your intended program executive producer if we believe it is good enough to screen. You must be Dave, you look to be the intelligent one."

"Nah he's Dave," Dave said pointing to Wal and Biddie said she wasn't talking to him.

The guys grinned and when Wal said he was Wal Biddie groaned. "Oh I guess that was an example of your native humor?"

"Yeah, real slick don't you think," Dave said and was ignored.

Biddie said the program development team believed the concept had some merit but everything would hinge on the ability of the guys to pull it off on-camera.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but we have confidence in you guys. We have decided to accept your proposal that you should not receive training in acting or in proper speech but one of our trainers will teach you some of the elementary rules...

"Like no farting on camera," Dave grinned.

"... elementary rules in appearing on camera as actors."

"That's to be expected Mrs Jacka."

"Thank you Wal You both may call me Biddie."

"I bid fifty bucks for two nights of lust with you."

Dave sighed. "Can it Wal."

"Let me think about that Wal," Biddie smiled, a woman who looked up to a guy with rough edges and wide shoulders.

* * *

The team project received funding to produce six programs of the 'Dave and Wal's Cooking Show for Dudes' that included funding for some newspaper advertising. Against cries of anguish from other producers seeking prime time, Biddie who had commenced a torrid affair with Wal, gained the Tuesday 7:00 pm slot for her new show.

Dave and Wal had watched the pilot screening of their initial efforts and the incredulous faces of the watching studio personnel.

"Don't worry about them," Biddie said as her husband arrived to take her to dinner. "That lot think that professionalism rules. They've lost touch with the great unwashed public."

"Eh?" said the guys who couldn't believe what Biddie had just said. They had assumed balling the public was a no-no.

The two nervous unproven TV presents met in the lounge bar of their favorite hotel that had been reserved for them and eleven of their mates and partners plus their Dave and Wal's families.

Frank arrived with his sister Eva who promptly sat on Dave's lap, bit his ear and cooed how exciting this must be for him as she unzipped him. Dave looked around nervously for Frank but he was chatting up Lisa Donald who'd arrived uninvited.

The opening show of the mini-mini series was a rare public display of what's known as 'Aussie bloke's humor' and viewers were generally captivated.

"G'day Australia. I'm Dave and this 'ere is my old mate Wanda, er I mean Wal who'd do anything for me include steal my last beer. Stay where you are and watch because this will become the Prime Minister's favorite show. We'll probably be invited to London to present a Command Royal Performance for Harry and William, oh and Philip the Earl of Merioneth too because none of them can cook except to warm up yesterday's hamburgers."

"Okay, here we go after two years of studio rehearsing. Toss me an egg Wal. For guys who can't cook, this is how to boil an egg."

Hal tossed an egg from eight feet away, Dave ducked and it splattered on to the lens of the filming camera.

The studio guests burst into raucous laughter, as did everyone watching the big screen TV in the hotel lounge.

"Hal's mom confided to me once he was an ill-disciplined little bastard when he was a boy. Well have we got news for his mom. Perhaps she's watching. Hal's mom had a walking problem because her breasts hang incredibly low"

The studio audience was silent.

"Laugh you lot of fence sitters. I had to get Mrs Slater's approval to use that line. As she stated in the legal release, "Ain't that the truth. With the size of mine it's not something you can hide or can walk with comfortably."

Everyone in the studio cackled and the loudest laugh in the bar lounge came from Gwen Slater, Hal's mum.

Dave picked up a huge egg and placed it in boiling water.

"Chook eggs usually take 3 minutes and 31 seconds to boil hard guys but this Emu egg will probably take 51 minutes to hard boil but I'd give it another five in case the chick inside isn't properly cooked. The egg was certified by our studio vet as being DOA, that means being dead on arrival at the studio through being eight weeks since it's mum gave up on it."

"Oh no," someone in the audience shouted.

"You don't believe me? Well hold your noses, I'll crack it open for proof."

The entire studio audience shouted no.

"Well guys, that's the basic principle of cooking eggs. If you wish to make an omelet for yourself, just chuck three eggs into a cocktail shaker like this, oh or is it preferable to crack them on the bar and empty the contents into the shaker? Look most cooks I foul up a times. Add a quarter teaspoon of salt or a tablespoon of salt if you prefer salted to taste. What have I left out Wal?"

"Half a cup of self-raising flour."

"Not that's for half-size cup cakes."

"Oh half a cup of bitter beer."

"Yeah Wal, thanks," said Dave, who zapped open a can of Victorian Bitter, gulped down most of it and tipped the rest into the shaker, placed the lid on and shook it vigorously.

Dave then scratched his head. "Now what?"

"Put it in a fry pan with a little butter," shouted several women.

"Oh thanks ladies. Your explicit directions are appreciated."

He dropped the shaker into the pan and tossed in half a pound of butter.

The women in the audience were killing themselves in laughter.

A woman ran over, hauled out the shaker, tipped out most of the butter into a cooking basin and told Dave to pour the contents of the shaker into the pan, removed as much of the shells as possible and coddle what was left.

"How do you cuddle a hot pan?"

"Oh darling Dave," she said. "You are so funny, you ought to be on television."

"Hey before you go, how do you open a shaker?"

"Like this," Wal said, and pulled off the lid violently, spilling egg all over himself.

"Wal your clown, you had dinner half an hour ago," Dave laughed, scratching under an armpit and sniffing loudly.

Dave scowled and said, "Well someone's yelling into this thing in my ear we're over time. Why don't these TV asses on chairs relax and let the show run it's natural course? Oh well, we better pause for an urination break."

The show then took an ad break.

"Oh darling simply fabulous," Eva cooed, licking Dave's mouth.

When she was finished he stood, zipped up and went around to talk to the guests. Most of them seemed to be serious when they said that he and Wal were new TV sensations.

* * *

But there was disappointment for Dave and Wal. Two TV critics on late news that evening panned the show, generally in agreement that it was corny, stupid, coarse, mindless, and under-acted and a total waste of expensive TV resources.

"Ignore them," Biddie said when dropping in on them at home. "Those critics tend to feel only comfortable with the familiar. We'll know wider public reaction tomorrow with letters to the editor in newspaper, radio talkback reaction perhaps but we at the studio are comfortable, having watched your studio audience.

"So what else will tomorrow bring?" Wal asked, scratching his nuts.

Biddie said the thing that really counted, release of data for sample surveying of household TV viewing the previous evening, giving ratings.

"Being a small station we only have a small percentage of market share in our transmission area and that's limited to the Sydney region. But we will compare the estimate based on a survey sample of how many people stuck with your show last night and compare that figure with historical figures for our other shows, particularly the first night of a continuing show. As soon as those figures are out we will receive requests from the media for interviews."

Dave said, "Are you really expected that?"

"Yes of course. Your public liked you."

Dave looked doubtful.

They were working on script for some skits when Biddie walked in and said, "Pour me coffee."

Wal jumped because he was becoming used to jumping Biddie.

She opened her electronic notebook and said, "Figures show you held and entertained 128,650 viewers last night, the third highest first night audience for any program generated by us. Of course one-off films and other syndicated programs we buy in have notched up larger audiences. Our director of programming is very pleased and our chairman sent me a personal email congratulating me."

Wal asked, "Did he mention us?"

"He has no idea who you are. Standby."

Biddie took a phone call and said, "Yes thirty minutes is fine."

"A reporter and photographer from the Evening Star will be here to interview you in thirty minutes guys. Go brush your teeth and use under-arm deodorant. The interviewer will be Sandy Jennings."

"God she's a former beauty queen."

"Dave," Biddie said looking pained. "Women can be beautiful and still have a brain and be talented enough to be a newspaper reporter."

"Oh sure," he said recovering. "You are a fine example of that."

Biddie minced out of the room, waggling her tail.

The station's PR officer phoned Dave and said to be in Studio 3 in ten minutes. "Several of us will be watching so please try not to embarrass the station. Miss Jennings wants a TV camera and lighting stands in the background for a photograph to make the photo look atmospheric."

"What's that?"

"To show without saying she actually interviewed you two in your working environment in a TV studio."

"Oh thanks Kate."

"That's being familiar," sniffed Mrs Scott.

Dave chuckled and made kissing noises. "That's how I am darling... uncouth."

"Dave this is Miss Jennings from the Evening Star."

"Hi Sandy. You still have your looks and a great body."

Mrs Scott looked about to explode.

"Thanks Davie, you don't look too bad yourself but a bit of beer residue is showing over your gut."

"Yes the weakness of man," he smiled and she laughed.

"Kate you haven't introduced my partner."

"Oh yes, I apologize. Miss Jennings this in Wal who also appears in the show."

"Hi Wal."

"Hi Miss Jennings. It's a real privilege to meet such a high-achieving woman."

"Oh Wal, okay give me the big let down."

"No I wasn't kidding. I called mum and said you were coming in to interview us and she dropped the phone and huffed and puffed and said I must remember the experience. It would be almost like meeting royalty."

"Thank you Wal. Now let's get on with it please."

"Would you like a beer Sandy?"

"No thanks Dave. It's only mid-morning."

"The beer we drink doesn't have a time-lock on the cans."

"Oh very droll. Where were you born Davie?"

"In a private maternity hospital corridor. Mom dropped me out before they'd walked her all the way to her cubicle."

"Oh how interesting. What about you Wal?"

"I was born and raised here in Sydney Miss Jennings and lived all of my early life in Campsie. Dave and I have shared a flat in Bondi Junction with three young females for the past two years and Dave is the only one of us who can cook."

"You confirm that Dave."

"Yeah Sandy and that's why I haven't married. It's rare to find a young woman who can cook. All they seem to want to do is hang out in bars, work to gain promotion and chase after sex. They have no wish to marry this side of forty but they don't mind if a couple of kids come along before then."

"What do these women you share with do, work in shops?"

"One manages a boutique dress shop in Double Bay, one is financial controller in a branch of an international insurance company and the third is a criminal lawyer. All are Wal and my age, thirty-one."

"How interesting," she said, obviously astonished, and the interview continued for another thirty minutes.

The male photographer spent most of his time setting them up at a small table with a big TV camera in close in the background as a prop. He wanted the guys to pose in am arm wrestle and worked them through fifteen positions until he was satisfied and then took three shots and said he was finished.

"When will you take the photograph?" Dave asked as the guy bagged his camera.

The photographer looked at Sandy who said, "You are not required to understand Pat; it's called a lower form of non-stop humor.

The interview with a great arm wrestle close-up picture appeared on page five of the newspaper that afternoon.

The story began, 'Two guys who rocked a section of viewers watching TV in Sydney last night, Dave Jellicoe and Walt Slater, starred in a cooking send-up on Harbor TV in prime time at 7:00.'

Sandy quoted show producer Biddie Jacka as saying, "Our program director bit the bullet and took a risk telling me when I attempted to sell him the concept that the pilot filming indicated the humor was so lousy that it might really work. Sydney might be ready for a cooking show send-up. Our confidence was rewarded. We attracted and held a good-sized audience for us and I believe the show will get better and better. My two guys are desperate to keep in work, being unemployed when they came in with their novel idea for a short series. We all know how desperation can ignite motivation. I also believe these guys have Aussie working class humor nailed."

'Wal the two-man show's fall guy was asked about his ambition. Looking at the female interviewer he said, nodding in serious contemplation, "To have a body like yours Miss Jennings." He acts like a dork but actually he has some appeal.'

'And his pal when asked the same question?'

'He said, "To date you Sandy, to cook you a dinner you will never forget and then to lay back and watch you do the dishes, waiting for you to come over and take me". He didn't say where he would take me to.'

The interview continued on that slightly wacky trend but included considerable factual information about the two men who'd burst from nowhere on to the TV screen.

Sandy concluded: 'I started watching the opening show, went to change channels but found myself hooked. It is rare for me to laugh so much watching TV. I believe these guys have got it. Please email me if you think I should date Dave, or alternatively tell me no.'