*contains spoilers and more including material which may offend as it tells of growing up in a poor suburb where you may or may not have been dealt a full foreskin. Avoid this article otherwise as it was deleted unauthorised by M4Media… due to its shocking content.
The Red Balloon is a short film running a little over a half an hour which was made in France. It is one of the first colour short films to be awarded a prize and showered in gifts… Yes, I am a bit jealous as I never won an award in my life and was constantly disappointed every time they were handed out at the sports clubs and in high school …. Loser! (Each of us got a gold or silver medal for playing in the team anyway just like an Olympic athlete at Primary School). I won a meat tray at a pub once…
However, this little French boy dealt his beret before his suit and tie and then back again… this little ‘Tintin’ in the making has the memories of our red and white striped soccer team at Primary School where the mixture of ring and non-ringed willies freely mixed and played as our parents picked us up and took us home without the humiliation of a change-room … while later we changed in the boys’ bathroom after school for practice without the need to remove our undies… that was after hours since during school lunchtime there were some remarkable prostates which could pee over green toilet doors in the boy’s toilets like an episode of Round the Twist … Yes, and some twisted their willies to show off the y or v done to a t underneath as they peed at the urinal. Some of us knew the others vital stats anyway not that it ever mattered to me…. I knew the secrets of the bullies by the time I was at Seacliff Primary… and aged ten years old.
Boys would form clean rings around other boys and it doesn’t matter what is kept underneath their underwear. I remember my best friend Carl who was the goalie at Seacliff, and a good one, and I wore the same kind of purple polyester undies from the bulk packet from the supermarket despite our mother’s differing view on what should be our vital stat should be as babies. Carl was born in Sydney and his three brothers Darwin and perhaps Adelaide… they were all the same as the youngest named Brendan would wander round the house with his red or purple ‘Scivvy’ on upside down with his legs through the sleeves at five or six years old showing off his perfect foreskin through the skivvy neck… Nothing wrong with having a perfect foreskin. His brother Rohan used to stretch his Celtic coloured skin at nine or ten and show his foreskin proudly off to his mother as he posed for her on his lower bunk bed like a potential lover as she chased him round the bedroom to put his clothes or pyjamas on … A great band of brothers the Hollands. I remember seeing our school’s soccer champion Gary stare at himself naked in their bathroom mirror in pure statuesque sensuality as I walked past the bathroom to go and take a pee in their perfectly clean toilet. He reminded me of the sainted Italian boy who dies in Once Upon a Time in America as he glances at his own reflection.
Their mother was a sad looking German woman named Renata whose family faced the reality of Nazi Germany and she made jigsaw puzzles and named the family dog Heidi. I would talk to her sometimes and eat ritually with the family when I stayed the night. Such was community in the Southern suburbs of South Australia back in the late 1970s. Theirs was a house of games and puzzles and not tv and music when I was there. Boys would be left to their own devices even if it meant throwing stones or rocks at each other in the magnificent crawlspace below their European modern-designed and air conditioned and ducted house… with tiles of ‘Heuga’ carpet and a safety designed family Volvo for a car… I never was stigmatised for being a Yellow Star boy as I was one of the boys… even our undies matched! Such was my freemasonry among boys both cut and uncut.
Back to The Red Balloon and upon my initiation into the heart of the country in Alice aged four years old on the Ghan I was then sent to Old Reynella Primary unbeknownst to me there were other boys on the planet which had a ring willy like me – I thought I was the only one for some reason or it didn’t even come to mind. I was a boy with two younger sisters and had never seen another boy naked in the bathtub…
With the lessons of The Electric Company and Sesame Street part of my life … they showed on Play School one day a boy taking a bath with his two sisters and he had a ring willy – this was before everything had to be covered up due to the shame of those Rock Hudson spiders which preyed on the internet and the red balloon carrying John Wayne Gacy of ‘It’ fame. Yes, it was natural to have a ring willy and take a bath with your sisters since they even showed it on television in black and white… and that boy like me probably discovered aged five that rubbing his stiffy and glans against the sheets like a dog felt good and was natural. I thought that’s what men to do women… I seemed to have an idea!
Before we moved up into a middle-class ‘hood’ I was brought up in lower middle-class O-Halloran Hill which was new suburbia behind a BP station on Main South Road.
There was an almond orchard or grove which was like Narnia beyond the barbed wire fence at the top or our large sloping block where nature and I formed together from age six and I became an ingenious child who dreamed and walked alone… with God and nature. You’ll never walk alone. It’s true! The almonds in that grove were left to drop on the ground and I used to love picking and choosing the ones from the seasons past which were still ripe to crack and eat raw. Leave the green sleeved ones for later. Some of the almonds were well beyond their use by date but you knew instinctively as a hunter and collector which were good to eat. Even the yellow crested cockatoos would sit in the base of the trees and in them and feast occasionally… I swear one said hello back to me one day! It was the perfect place for a child to grow and wander after his initiation in Alice… One two three, Jesus loves me… and then you are free!
I had been to the movies and seen television but I was uninitiated as to the theory behind the magic lantern from which began it all began – and that was the movie or film projector hidden from view in cinemas like the willies of other boys – and they had a 16mm one which the Old Reynella school owned – every well stocked school had one under the aegis of Premier Don Dunstan… and that Socialist Liberal Premier Thomas Playford… We drank milk for free for a couple of years when lactose intolerance wasn’t an issue… at recess time which was delivered to classrooms. Such was South Australia in the southern suburbs and the masses of boys given scissor dicks in Adelaide…
The north of Adelaide and its poverty- stricken British immigrant suburb where Jimmy Barnes grew up was another story. Like Hugh Jackman who was the son of British immigrants often those boys born in Oz were left uncut just like their fathers. I knew boys born in England in 1967 with savvy mothers who cut them before they migrated to the southern suburbs. Joseph and Saul being two brothers I knew.
One of the first movies they showed on the projector at school when I was about six was The Red Balloon. I was already familiar with the book which had been produced with photographs in the library but I was blown away by this movie about a solitary dreamer of a boy who was followed around by a red balloon and how they formed a friendship… I was that little boy I thought even though I had no idea about Paris and the horrors of World War Two… Such was the magic of movies at that age while mum would take us to the cinema to see reruns of Bambi and Dumbo through to the Fox and the Hound. I still hadn’t recognised the power of the projector as I fell in love with movies at school with what appeared to be the entire classroom …
Then the next week or month they showed an episode of Ask the Leyland Brothers as they travelled all over the countryside of Australia answering letters from the public… Not as good as The Red Balloon but it was my inattention to that short film/movie which showed there was a lantern for this young genie of a child to understand that it was all an illusion. May rings of fairies surround your child on their mobile phones forever and ever until… There appeared to be a reel of film spinning endlessly on a spool and through a gate which produced Mike and Mal Leyland and their wives onscreen while there was something that caused the sound to also happen through the speaker in synchronisation. It was a magnetic strip of some sort… My Pa had a magic lantern in terms of a slide machine/projector and he would show he the magic that once was Kodak slides…
I remember when I spoke at length alone with Ken G. Hall (1901-94), who was that great Australian director and creator of Cinesound Studios and he told me about the time in Sydney, Australia back around 1929 and 1930 when he and his mate were mucking around in their laboratory trying to create sound on film in Australia without having to resort to buying the patented stuff from America… and then one day his mate said: “I think we’ve got sound on film!”
And so, On Our Selection (1930/2) was made according to Hall… There was another sound musical around this time named Showgirl’s Luck (1931) which came out earlier.
On Our Selection was based on the novel and the many, many follow-up books by Queenslander Steele Rudd (1868-1935) who died a pauper and lived in an unmarked grave before a modest one was erected in Toowong Cemetery by his fans. I found it there once where it was overgrown with weeds as an invalid who dreamed vainly of being a published writer and I removed the weeds and wondered if the previous winners in Queensland of the prestigious Steele Rudd writing awards had ever paid homage… loser of a writer and ‘wanker’ that I was.
How lucky was I to hear about sound on film in Australian from Ken Hall!? Anyway, On Our Selection premiered in Brisbane… the home capital of Dad and Dave before it hit Sydney. The 1995 remake which features Dame Joan Sutherland as Mother and Toowoomba boy Geoffrey Rush as Dave is worth a look and has a great score by Aussie musical Icon John Williamson. He of Old Man Emu fame…
But I’m tripping on the foundations of the socialist state of Queensland before gerrymanders and corruption took hold. I was once a little boy dressed as an artist at Old Reynella Primary who was led in line with another boy in our undies to have our testicles checked. His name Todd and he wore undies that looked like a rainbow of paisley and the women pulled the front of our jocks open together as we stood side by side so they could check that both our testicles had descended – poor Adolf Hitler only had one ball – I looked to the right without coughing – like the small-town doctor in Arachnophobia (1990). Spiders again! – and curiously glanced at Todd’s willy… Guess what? It looked exactly the same size and shape as mine… I wasn’t the only one in the world with one like that! I’m guessing the two English boys in my class were put together due to their vital stats or were dismissed from having the examination due to their parents not giving permission for the operation to go ahead to check for and undescended testicle… or perhaps a ring willy boy was shown that there was such a thing as an uncircumcised penis… such became the pee-nut/peanut and investigation of ring willies as a vital statistic and keeping the numbers in my head in terms of vital statistics cut or not. Just another hobby. Is that queer?! Or what?!
The poor Poms as they were dismissed back in the day for being ‘different’ when really some were not… Later at my next area school named Braeview Primary, my English friend Andrew was teased without mercy by the school bully for having a Pommie Dick/uncut one. It was a form of terrorism. So? What I thought! My father was a Pom too and obviously had a full foreskin!! Andrew’s father was named Gordon and worked for BP and drove a British army car and was born in Malta or some island in the Mediterranean during World War Two. He with his wife Pat lived around the corner. She would be called a nerdy type these days with glasses as she probably read and baked angel cakes full of cream for Andrew and all his real friends when it was his birthday on September 30… some things you don’t forget as Andrew and I had an affinity of having an English background. If you survived Andrew, I hope you and your brother Scott are okay and had families of your own unafraid of Paul ‘Long’ the bully who was not invited to Andrew’s birthday party… Yes, Paul let me feel his ‘thing’ one night beside him at a school camp as he then accused me of having a ‘Pommie’ dick … “I’m not playing anymore!” I said and rolled over and went to sleep in my sleeping bag as I kept my button mushroom to himself. It was odd but I didn’t wet the bed that night…
Another friend was a Greek boy Nick who the bully nicknamed “Wog” but we still were all a kind of ring or circle of friends. Nick was very Greek and a lovely boy who invited me and many others – not the school bully – to his birthday party in his backyard with all the Greek relatives standing around as I pushed another friend Chris, the son of a policeman who would also become a policeman. Nick kept his vital statistic hidden and we never really wondered what it was as I pushed Chris on a small tricycle into a pool of sewage around the septic tank in the possibly funny result that he would fall into the pool of smelly shit for being so foolish… What balance! He never fell after several attempts and then we came to our senses and called it quits. Chris and Nick and his family I salute you… And I tell you as the lonely boy of The Red Balloon…
Such were the freemasonry and rings of boys in O’Halloran Hill… I remember the school bully whose best friend wore a Glenelg jersey but was one of a family of boys from Britain said: “We’re going to James’ house and everyone is going to take their clothes off and walk around naked” and I said worriedly since there were going to be girls there: “What if you get a stiffy?” There was no real answer and the event never took place. But I was invited to James’ house with Paul as though a ring was made of me beside the house and his older brother aged 13 from high school came home and stood beside and pulled out his dick and began to urinate… It was the first time I had seen a perfectly formed and un-stretched white foreskin or ‘milk bottle’ willy and I didn’t flinch or complain as some urine splashed on my bare right leg as I was wearing my Bart Simpson or grey French boy shorts… Yes, it looked rather beautiful as it was not too white and not a Celtic brown as the foreskin formed itself in a perfect little pucker at the end for the urine to stream through… I bet his mother adored it when he was younger! And it was all set up for me… What more could a boy ask for in terms of his own initiation in the neighbourhood in terms of the secrets of the bullies? So that’s what they looked like compared to dad’s old and tired foreskin… Poor Andrew was being victimised for no reason except for not being cool enough to be one of the boys… as his own family kept him close to home in their own circle of love… Wandering the streets of O’Halloran Hill and I saw some sights when I was a child. And learn decent moral lessons about your own morality as you developed your own natural moral compass.
Then everything seemed to have turned Nazi in this country in terms of too many foreskins taking their hatred out on those who were ring willies. It was revenge for the poor Poms and other uncircumcised immigrants who fought with us and other Allies against that one ball Hitler. Bad luck if you are Jewish or Muslim… or you were cut anyway! The horror of schizophrenia and the persecution for thinking I was the only cut boy in the world who thought such things… I wasn’t ‘privately-educated’ as I learned about life on the streets in lower middle class semi-rural South Australian suburbia before our family moved to middle class Brighton beside the train line with “a patch of grass” as Richard Carlson dreamed of for his son in The Magnetic Monster (1952). Thank God for a patch of grass and Richard Carlson! God bless you. Now I had a life on the beach from the age of ten years onwards at Seacliff Primary.
The Best Actor at Cannes this year for playing Taurean star sign Martin Bryant (1967-) in Mitram (2021) was Texan born Caleb Landry Jones (1989-) while it was the South Australian born director Justin Kurzel (1974-) who found an affinity to create something which has yet to be ‘celebrated’ here about the horrific Sound of Music fan who killed dozens of people… among his other activities. Kurzel looked at Snowtown (2011) which I touched on in the article about Canadian-born South Australian horror director Ursula Dobrowsky. And to think I wrote a black comedy novella about the link between the cinema where I lived and the Family killings! It was unpublishable!! Kurzel also warned us that searching for an apple in all the wrong places can waste your life with the film version of time wasting computer game Assassin’s Creed (2016) before tackling the real story of Ned Kelly who we knew since we read children’s books about him as kids was really an Irish immigrant’s child who was a natural at 12 when he saved a drowning boy or man in a river or billabong but who was driven to crime by circumstance… Peter Carey bored us with the book from his New York apartment and has been boring us since he wrote Oscar and Lucinda… How I loved ‘Illywacher’, if that’s how you spell it!! Poor Peter was driven to become some sort of poet after being showered with awards and possibly even the Nobel… Incidentally, Bliss (1985) is a good movie based on a Carey novel.
Really, David Ireland and Gerald Murnane are the real men as Murnane’s Tamarisk Row set in the late 1930s in Melbourne spoke of a circumcised middle-class boy shocked to see poverty in that city where a baby cried in a broken-down house with hardened smegma poking out of his foreskin … It’s a great book among Murnane’s canon and he has retired to a country pub where he forgets Melbourne and forgets its former self… My friend and mentor Bill Murray from the great Melbourne Truth where he was sub-editor was born in poverty in Melbourne in the 1930s and lived with his family in a house with a dirt floor or so he told me. He died of lung cancer and remains etched in my mind as a great man who sent me a Christmas card with a drunken note scrawled on the back of an envelope inserted into it as he wrote of the artists and writers that existed throughout the world … We got drunk and talked about how Lenny Lower apparently tripped after a throat cancer operation and fell into the gutter ripping open the stitches and bleeding to death. He was probably drunk! Here’s Luck is a great Australian novel!! I loved that man and he died a day after receiving my Christmas card which his son read to him and which I always signed “love Jason” … Bill was a True Believer who believed in journalism and worked more or less until the day he died which was less than a week after he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The legend of Lenny Lower passed on from one generation to the next! Thank God I quit cigarettes. Thank you, Mr Benson and Hedges for ruining my lungs…
The Red Balloon was directed by Albert Lamorisse (1922-70 helicopter crash) and it starred his son Pascal and daughter Sabine and is set in the once predominantly working-class inner-city Paris neighbourhood of Menilmontant as it warns us of the difference between following our dreams as opposed to being a social climber. It was the same neighbourhood where actor and singer Maurice Chevalier (1888-1972 after depression and suicide attempt) and his brothers grew up after his father left his mother when he was twelve. Yes, his song from Gigi (1958), Thank Heaven for Little Girls is a bit of a worry… And you might think that same of me and this article, but I assure you its harmless. The great animated movie The Triplets of Belleville (2003) with its many different titles was also set there. Microcosm and melting pot such suburbs can be in cities around the world. The hood.
The Red Balloon with its ‘hooded’ children seems to have influenced the nightmares of Nic Roeg’s Walkabout (1970) follow-up (oh, the horror of Luc Roeg’s lily-white foreskin being revealed at the end of his large penis as it seemed to cause Gulpilil and John Meillon to suicide in the beginning and at the end of the movie!) – Don’t Look Now (1973) and Canadian movie The Brood (1978) in terms of lost innocence. Don’t Look Now should have been called Avert Your Eyes as I wished they’d taken pictures of me at that age in all my cut knob glory as I splashed into a billabong or something… I had wanted to be a movie star and show off my knob but I got a stiffy or priapi/priapism all the time which took away my self-confidence and ‘ruined’ by career… little did I know a priapism was natural among boys as me and my friend Flynn played willy wars as kids without self-consciousness after showering. At least the young aboriginal boys as well as myself and my friend in the tent we were dealt that night In the so-called Garden of Allah weren’t ashamed of our ‘priapy’ or priapism… It was a private initiation to sort the future bad buggers out… My priapi/y just happened but for some reason it became a sense of shame to show it in the change rooms at high school in case they thought I was a ‘poofter’, since whenever I took my clothes off in front of another human being it would happen… male or female! Paranoia set in as me and Scott and Paul who were the Three Amigos bucked the system and wore undies in the changeroom showers just like the Nazi youth did in Europa Europa… it saved little Solly’s life!…
Remember the names of Mo and Stiffy? Another Aussie legend! I wrote an article. One ring willy and another not who worked side by side as friends and actors.
But that was me rolling around in the tall dewy green grass early one morning aged twelve again in the land of milk and honey… Luc Roeg’s father captured his glory for the world to see as well as himself to admire in retrospect… But now perhaps without the worry of IT, boys can take their own photos of themselves at that age and save them for themselves and for no one but themselves and their family and inner circle – circle jerks and all. Just don’t send them to prudish family members! Keep them to show when your thirty, I bet your girlfriend or boyfriend would have a laugh… Meanwhile Christian families need not now get their films processed at a store as they perform their own secret business in terms of ‘who’s the photographer’…
It became so shameful to be proud of your penis or your son’s penis at a young age since I thought mine was the prettiest of the lot even if I was the only judge in the Garden of Allah as back at Braeview top bully Paul Long pointed down the line of penises along the urinal where like the Americans sing in their national anthem the young boys aged tenderly six and upwards were all lined up were all the same ‘from sea to sea/cee to cee’. All helmets of future soldiers of the army, air force or navy or just another office worker… Some still peeing as they did at home with their shorts and undies pulled down to their ankles as they had learned at home as their mothers and fathers told them to Point Percy at the Porcelain and not make a racket in the middle of the night … I had never seen so many in a row… until later at a Glenelg birthday party for an older neighbourhood boy and his cut mates when I was seventeen and in the twilight darkness of the vegetable garden at ten or eleven in the evening where the father of the birthday boy had helped his son dig a makeshift urinal for the boys to relieve bottles of West End and Southwark… Other men need only check out their Eagle Boys video catalogue if they want to enjoy the B-Side of such a thing in terms of teenage wanking! I’m not buying/bi-ing today! Maybe tomorrow! I understand they are well directed and quality short porn films. I saw a ‘wank’ one featuring a parade of cut American boys that belonged to the gay dad of a family friend who used to be editor of The News and kept explicit magazines of men with moustaches putting their dicks into each other… I mean really? This went on?!! I was shocked at twelve years old to see such pictures! As for the boys in that US video they were well paid for performing in that one I’m sure as they didn’t mind as long as they didn’t have to take it up the arse! Such are the circle jerks and their ring. It was the third and only time I saw a helmet only ring. What more? End investigations.
I didn’t know about sodomy and that sort of thing (I hadn’t even put my finger up my bum and twisted it around!) being commonplace until my father laughed at a preview of Deathtrap (1982) which featured Michael Caine and Christopher Reeves as gay lovers kissing and the line about Caine buying some yogurt at the shop and asking Reeves which type of this delight he preferred: “Any flavour except prune!” which could end in a mess of a spotted dick as my Bradford born father’s laugh revealed about sodomy. He’s since lost his sense of humour my father… maybe it’s returning… My sister saw the movie too and we got picked up from a double header preview of Robot Monster and Plan 9 from Outer Space at half time at the Trak cinema on Greenhill Road to go to the Deathtrap preview. I had to wait for Plan 9…. And saw it in Sydney with Scott at a The Reels concert as it played on the screen behind that great Aussie band… My sister took off her Ugg boots that winter night in the Trak cinema and the stink of her sweaty feet was recycled thorugh the reverse cycle heating of the air conditioning. What a pong! I mean don’t some people have some respect?! Lucky there were only four other people there…. A ring of cinema owners and free tickets to a son of Argo which paid off in terms of the magic lantern in Adelaide.
I remember one drunken night when Bill Murray’s wife said about sodomy when I belittled a guest who didn’t turn up who had a well-known international 1970s album I had never heard of as he rudely cancelled by phone: “It does go on, you know!” but I still don’t like it … even if she and Bill suggested they would still love me if I did it with a sheep. They just wanted me to be happy, I guess… What was his name again that singer? Bill sent me a gift once of his very own well-worn copy of the novel The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Dublin born Irishman Robert Tressell (1870-1911 tuberculosis and pauper’s grave). My friend Bill Murray is not to be confused with his beautiful American doppelganger the comedian Bill Murray who came to Brisbane and sang a most moving repertoire. My sister and I sat near the front and he probably saw the tears fall from my eyes as he sang Stephen Foster’s (1826-64 suicide or fever) Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair… as my eyes welled often throughout his performance. I would later innocently dream one night that Murray hugged me Lost in Translation fashion and again later when our paths crossed in a dream the same night. What a beautiful memory the name Bill Murray conjures up for me… You are Innocent when you Dream, sang Tom Waits in the shower in his excellent concert and music video movie Big Time (1988). Another singing and acting legend worth exploring…
“Hey you, don’t piss on the tomatoes” said the birthday boy in the dark as we all relieved ourselves in his Garden of Allah and I then turned my shy organ and kidney’s around slowly like a water sprinkler or hose and revealed a full-blooded six-inch Glenelg hospital cut knob poking from my open Levi jean zipper as I enjoyed the fact for a moment in time that all the boys in the Garden were the same and we were now initiated men as we took that never-ending piss in the moonlight. It was a beautiful moment of celebration for this boy’s 21st … I watched as all the cut boys eyes fixed for a moment at the revelation of the beauty and swelling of my cut knob and its naked coronal ring for that small moment of Turkish Delight and the panorama of it all in a split second in some family’s suburban back yard… And it showed that Glenelg Community Hospice and related hospices once existed universally in the southern suburbs of Adelaide. Give or take a foreskin or two or three or more! But I’m sounding too non-prepuce when I don’t mean to be. Its the big wide world of foreskin and what’s left and women are made of foreskin too!
Never would the horrors of The Family penis and Gomco clamp obsessed boy murderers scare or get us even if we would be driven to have sons unable to be given an ‘angel bris’ as I called mine when it became too dirty or shameful or expensive or ‘politically incorrect’ to do so… ‘Fashion’ cried David Bowie! Rings and more rings. That boy’s mother wanted it that way along with growing tomatoes in the Mediterranean climate of that city in the south. I noticed that an uncircumcised blonde boy relieved himself alone at that party when the coast was clear… Just like I do now in this population of uncut knobs as I feel embarrassed… Carl’s was kind of pretty too when he squealed like a girl one morning as I ripped his doona from his naked body one early Sunday morning. Ta-da… all is revealed!
Yes, I just wanted to show it off to people in the changerooms but a stiffy stopped me since it seemed to be an incurable illness or ‘a very tropical disease or something’ to quote How to Succeed in Business Without Trying (1967) unless you took a quick wank in the corner shower cubicle beside the communal showers in Brighton High School change-room but then it would immediately come back hard again! Oh, ‘the horror’ as Marlon Brando said in Apocalypse Now (1979) … I remember that I even thought my dick was getting too big at twelve years old and prayed that it wouldn’t get too big when I grew up… Sadly, my prayers were answered!!
Someone answer Australia’s prayers and give Gerald Murnane the Nobel as his A Lifetime in the Clouds is a much nicer look at Amazing Grace in terms of not wanking compared to the real man who must fuck and smoke and drink to reach this all too real non-existent status quo as he angrily searches in vain for the meaning of life… There is poetry and meaning to be found everywhere on Earth as you just have to begin to find it first within yourself between bouts of wet dreaming and momentarily writhing in the dark. Lift weights for the rest of your life but it’s not a crime to find beauty in the most unexpected places. Nature is from which we come to which we return as human beings…
We all grow up and eventually Let the Balloon Go (1976) which was a country New South Wales shot – near Bathurst – Aussie movie starring a boy which rings of its Glenelg-set doppelganger made the same year where the classic tear-jerker The Fourth Wish (1976) was set/filmed and whose boy star reminded me of some little blonde boy I used to know in a backyard tent many years ago… Myself! To watch The Fourth Wish as an adult Glenelg boy and the film being about a Glenelg boy kept the ring innocent and there was no perversion in wanting to be on the big screen like that boy was up there, since as a Glenelg boy who no doubt had a penis which was very, very circumcised like myself… Call it narcissism. Like Greg Rowe in Blue Fin (1978). But back to this star of Let the Balloon Go as well as Greg Rowe, he was living the big screen movie star dream of all boys around Australia and to look back on the Australian Dream it really wasn’t all that bad a deal us being dealt the Garden of Allah!!! I heard Robert Bettles (1962-) became a surfer… The Indigenous boys had priapism too, YOU KNOW, as well as initiation and the common sense of a moral compass. Years before the white fella arrived… or ‘came’ to Australia/New Holland as they like to call it… Beware the punk imitation and criminal named Robert Bettles, who presently haunts Bathurst as a reminder that Australia didn’t turn out the way it’s going to be as The Garden of Eden with little darlings in terms of perfect white foreskins all in a row… half of them named Josh. Loosen up that skin or yours and enjoy yourself…
PS. Then there is the one about the red wine conspiracy and an army of young people with scissors in their heart both ‘circumcidere’ and ‘non-circumcidere’ – what’s in a skeleton?
Let the red balloon go I shall as a part of the celebration of the parade of flags, many of three colours and others with a moon and the stars at world games ceremonies… And may the naked and priapic sons of flesh of all nations with their heart shaped glans of the non-circumcidere Garden of Eden and the circumcised Garden of Allah live in peace whether they are initiated or not and let that word be forever on the lips of the peace loving girls and women of all nations… forever anoint the foreskins with olive oil, or honey or saliva and create rings of love wherever you go on your glans as the corona of the sun shines down upon you… You are free to choose love forever
Cult Film Alley 