The Mop

Written by: Christopher Portugal & Alan Simpson

[Thes One, slowed down:]
Take a trip into the dark shadows of human sexuality.
Piecelock 70 and author Alan Simpson proudly present... "The Mop"
An autobiography of one man's journey into the thriving sex-shop culture of Sydney's Kings Cross.
A tell-all tale of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, set in its final days of the adult store empires.
Available now at www-dot-PL70-dot-net... "The Mop".

[Barry, on phone (Thes One):] Hello?
[Alan:] Hi, I'm calling about the ad in the paper?
[Barry, on phone:] Which one?
[Alan:] Um, specialist retail was the one I saw. What are the others?
[Barry, on phone:] There's all sorts. I'll tell you at nine.
[Alan:] But it's almost nine now.
[Barry, on phone:] Nine tonight. Meet me at Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross. A white door. Knock three times, then come upstairs. See you at nine.
[Alan:] Thanks, see you later.

[Female voice:]
Cybershit. Have you heard about the internet?
The world's newest technology allows you to search for porn at your leisure.
Come to Cybershit. Forty private viewing booths for your pleasure.
Cybershit. Read all about it in Alan Simpson's new book... "The Mop".

[Alan:] Hello, I'm Alan.
[Barry (Thes One):] Sit down, Alan. How do you feel about working in a... adult store?
[Alan:] Yeah, I haven't... I mean... it's not something I'd ever... yeah, why not?
[Barry:] You're not a perv, are you, Alan?
[Alan:] Not at all, no... I mean, I'm not... no, not a perv. Pretty normal, actually.
[Barry:] Yeah, normal? We'll see about that.

[Thes One:] "The Mop".

[Excerpt from "The Mop":]
Kings Cross, Sydney's red light district, was a self-contained universe of sex, drugs, crime and violence. Most of the action was focused on the main strip, Darlinghurst Road, a neon lined swirling mess of strip clubs, titty bars, fried food joints, porn stores and drinking holes. Signs promising sins of the flesh filled the windows. Cluttered X-rated sandwich boards transformed the pavement into a perverted slalom course.

Clambering masses of punters spilled out of low-rent bars and dodgy clubs onto the grimy sidewalk in a drunken mess. Junkies floated through the thong like spectres, their dead eyes focusing only on the next fix while pickpockets and stickup kids prowled from the shadows. Hunting for easy marks, they sidestepped sap-glove wearing doormen attempting to hustle passers by into strip clubs with the promise of "Real fucking on stage boys, cheap beer too."

(Copyright © 2012 Alan Simpson, Piecelock 70 Publishing)

*Important Note: These transcriptions are not verified with P.U.T.S., so there may be errors. We are especially unsure of the greyed-out text. We encourage you to offer your suggestions for lyrics corrections on the site's main page.


This track appears on the following releases:

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