This is the history of D-Karts
Like George Bush, I firmly believe that human beings and fish can co-exist peacefully. But will the highways on the internet become more few? That I don’t know. Does a brand of accessible peoples’ funk without compromise exist in this crazy world in which we live in? Yes. That it does exist is down to a combination of factors so fantastic, so improbable…..a tale involving mythical dragons, flamboyant characters, fauxmosexuality, sex guards, nodules, powerful black men, zoophilia, pornography, wee dancey bits, David Bellamy, Eric Roberts, polished gaps, muss-taches, flambasticism, mendacity, courage, eroticism, bestiality, greed, brutality, pugnacity, dinosaurs, great dancers, great drinkers, great clappers, great clapping drinkers dancing, and speciality swimming bears.
But it all began with a big, healthy pair of balls. In an enchanted forest. Dave “Big Healthy Balls” Skinner was picking mushrooms and playing his ukulele, as he did every day (for context, it’s important to note that this forest was on the outskirts of Glasgow). He was a gay (in the 1950s sense) young man, happy and content, dressed like Robin Hood, absorbed totally in his world of mushrooms and ukuleles, not thinking at all about the huge mythical dragon which, in his imagination, was rumoured to live in the forest. He was also not aware of the sex guards who didn’t exist but who, in his mind, stood firm at the gates to the dragon’s castle, keeping the inhabitants of the forest safe from its fire and fury. He was especially unaware of the sex guard who, that very minute, had just escaped from the castle with terrible news and was running madly through the forest towards him.
Graeme “Cougar Wolf” Davidson had only been an imaginary sex guard at the illusionary castle of the mythical dragon in the fake forest for three months. It was his first job since leaving school. He didn’t really like it, and had grown increasingly scared of the dragon, and suspicious of the other sex guards, but he needed the money to help him fulfil his dream of escaping the dragon and the life of a sex guard. This cold logic, getting a job he didn’t want so he could earn the money to escape from the job he didn’t want, and didn’t need to take in the first place, would serve him well in the future. In the present, he was fulfilling his dream, as he rushed unknowingly, in his imagination, from the illusionary castle through the fake forest towards the young man who was not aware of his non-existence.
Meanwhile, in a small, crooked hut which wasn’t really small and crooked (or a hut for that matter), in a far corner of the forest which didn’t exist, “Growling” Ross McLaughlin and Neil “Lock Remington” Lockhart were conducting their most daring and foolhardy evil experiment yet. Their work had become increasingly dangerous and maverick since they had been kicked out of University for attempting to cross-breed, and then clone, vicious amphibious rodents with men with moustaches (who were offered extravagant sums of money to participate and then heavily drugged). Under a crackling light bulb, engaged in an altogether unnecessary and delusional race against time, they were about to clone a human being from a set of bongos (they had initially tried congas, but their size proved too difficult to manage safely). It was their intent to let loose this clone, which would have unnatural bouncing abilities, on the forest before the dragon escaped from its castle and took it over (the terrible news Cougar Wolf was right then carrying). They didn’t really know what it would achieve, but they assumed a cloned human bongo would be all powerful and would secure the forest for their own evil designs and drive the greatly fabricated dragon out forever.
The final piece in our complex, imaginary jigsaw, was lost. Only that morning he had been indulging his greatest passion, teaching bears to swim so that they could be placed in water traps beneath death slides at airports. Allan “Bongo Peanut Maria” Ross walked very slowly through a forest he knew he wasn’t in, because it didn’t exist, worrying about where he was, which was nowhere, and where he was going, which wasn’t anywhere. His confusion was merely compounded by the fact that he knew he wasn’t really confused. This confusion about his lack of confusion led to a third level of confusion, which caused him to lose his sense of his lack of confusion and made him believe, finally, that he actually was lost. He had thus gone very quickly from not being lost to being lost, but knowing he wasn’t really lost, to forgetting about knowing he wasn’t lost because he was confused and therefore to being actually lost. It was at this moment, his most desperate hour, that he stumbled across Dave Skinner. Not three seconds later, Cougar Wolf careered into them both. At precisely this time, somewhere to the south, a hut door opened and a strange, small two-headed beast with legs, but nothing else, bounced out, making strange twangy, spongy sounds as it went. And way to the north of that, almost simultaneously, dozens of sex guards scattered to all four points of the compass as a mythical dragon rose, like some huge mythical dragon, above a castle that no-one could see because it wasn’t there.
The events of the ensuing 123 seconds are unclear. What we know is this: the sex guards disappeared forever; Cougar Wolf, Big Healthy Balls and Bongo Peanut Maria shat it; the dragon swooped to attack and inflict terrible imaginary injuries; Growling and Lock Remington chased their human bongo clone despairingly, and the human bongo clone set about the dragon with the enthusiasm of a vicious amphibious rodent. At this, Wolf, Balls and Maria un-shat it and joined in the attack on the dragon, only to be attacked themselves by Growling and Remington, who thought they were attacking the human bongo. The human bongo thought this too and also attacked them, leaving the dragon free to attack everyone if it so desired. But the dragon shat it. There was too much attacking going on and it was confused. Sensing this, everyone then attacked the dragon. The dragon tried to counter attack, but the initial attack was too ferocious. Thus, after a lot of attacking, the dragon was dead and Balls, Wolf, Maria, Growling and Remington congratulated each other. It had been a hard day doing things that hadn’t really happened in order to reach a conclusion that was all in their minds. They were happy.
But the human bongo wasn’t. Not only did it feel that it could have taken the dragon on its own, it felt bitter at being a scientific plaything, a monstrosity. If they created it for destruction, then destruction is exactly what they’d get…..
What a cliff hanger. Especially as none of it actually happened. The result of these cataclysmic and confusing events was the tortured birth of The D-Karts. Purveyors of accessible peoples’ funk, the hardest working band in show business, loved and admired throughout the world class health black spot that is the West of Scotland, original and inimitable, possessed of a ragged charm and a professionalism that knows no beginning, the Deeks are poised to rule the world. They consist of vocalist/guitarist Dave Skinner, lead guitarist/vocalist Graeme Davidson, bassist Ross McLaughlin, drummer/vocalist Neil Lockhart and bongosero Allan Ross (who shat it and scampered away when the human bongo attacked, only to join later vowing vengeance on all bongos – every performance is cathartic). These five imbeciles will hypnotize and puzzle you with their obvious lack of brilliance, yet you’ll be amazed that individuals with such moderate talents can collectively produce music so far above their station, tunes that will astound and delight you. You will be, I promise, staggered by the awesome power of a fully operational D-Karts…….
Written by Charles Dickens