Super Dave, Australian Air Guitar Champion and star of KFC commericals, "played" at the Holy Grail on Saturday night. My mate Peita, of the Paddlepop Chicken Adventure, sheepishly asked me and Rhi would we like to go. We accepted with great enthusiasm, for what else is there to do for entertainment in Canberra? Catch a session of parliament? Buy porn? Go to an Oasis concert? Like any pub in September, The Grail was packed with sporty types, flushed with beer and victory from grand final matches. We had to wait until the AFL Semi-Final was over before Super Dave finally appeared. He had the perfect build for the job – wiry like a greyhound, the long limp mullet, no arse to speak of. He'd slithered into a pair of leather pants that were very classily held together with a series of bulldog clips. He had an enormous silver codpiece zipped onto the front of his pants, it kept slumping to one side as he thrashed about the stage. Super Dave was flanked by a swarm of Rock Sluts. They were officially called Rock Chicks, but Rock Sluts just seemed to fit better. They had lovely slender bodies but they were teamed with trashy outfits and pinched, rat-like faces like those scraggy girls in your high school class (the ones with the eyeliner and the Wodd'yoo farrrrkin starin' at?! screechy voices). He only "played" one song the whole night. Ripped off! It was a very vigorous Song 2 with plenty of jumping and hip thrusting and windmills. But after that it was all audience participation, meaning the Rock Sluts trawled the crowd, dragging the drunkest souls up onto the stage. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. And I was completely sober! It was just so ridiculous. The barmaid showed real talent, as did the token ADFA boy and Peita's fiancee Leigh. Things started getting a little out of control when a mild-mannered accountant type came up, completely plastered after winning his soccer grand final that afternoon. He was finding it difficult to stand up. When the music started he played a few limp chords then grabbed the nearest Rock Slut and started madly thrusting his hips. "Ya guitar mate! Where's ya guitar!?!" Super Dave yelped and tried to drag him away. Accountant Guy looked blank, stumbled a little, then resumed his vigorous humping of the Rock Slut. It was all so very embarrassing to watch. As a former employee, I wondered if Colonel Sanders would approve of his company endorsing such shenannigans. Wasn't KFC a family resteraunt? But at least the guy was in time with the music. In the end all the contestants jammed drunkenly on the stage, with Super Dave going wild, jumping and writhing and giving us a generous eyeful of arse crack. It was then we were reminded what a promotions machine the whole operation was. As soon as Super Dave played his last note, the Rock Sluts were bustling round the room, pulling down posters, gathering up remaining Free Zinger vouchers with great speed and precision. Leigh, still buzzing from his moment of fame (and a few drinks), decided to buy Super Dave a drink. It really was a bittersweet moment. He handed Dave the beer and Dave looked quite taken aback and said, "You like Zingers? You want some Zingers?". Leigh insisted that he just wanted to buy him a drink, he didn't want anything in return. But Super Dave shoved Leigh's pocket with vouchers. Ahh, the price of fame! Already he's become so jaded that he can't believe someone could buy him a beer without wanting a piece of him! But at least he was still approachable. Leigh boldy asked him where did he get those high heeled boots from? "I picked them up on sale from a place in the Cross", Super Dave replied. He hasn't become so consumed by fame that he can't buy his own high heeled boots. Outside the Super Dave tour bus was park on the street. It features a giant picture of his mulleted head and bazillions of KFC slogans. The tour was going all over Australia. I wondered how he spent those long hours on the road? Perhaps there was a giant purple velvet bed in the back where he and the Rock Sluts had big Rock Orgies all night long (or maybe they just pretended to – Air Orgies). But to me it seemed more likely he'd be sitting there with his feet up, quietly strumming his invisible instrument and thinking about how simple life was before he hit the big time; or crying in the cramped toilet after making himself throw up the two dozen Zingers he'd eaten that day.