(See Keith’s journey here, if you haven’t already. Start at the bottom. Keith did).
Well, Keith’s time on this earth (the non-plumbing-related parts of this earth, that is) is nearly up. The Urban Decay project was always just going to be a year long, and his days, just like his twelve steps, are numbered.
We discussed this with Keith, and in between sobs and consolatory Chocolate Paddle Pops, he asked if he could write his own ‘bucket list’ – a list of things he wanted to do before he died.
We gave him a piece of paper and a pen, and he started with:
When I wake up in the mornin’ light
I pull on my jeans and I feel alri…
NO, Keith! No lyrics! Don’t make us tell you again. Now, do it properly.
Mmmm. Drippy. Brown.
We couldn’t really find a celebrity on such short notice, but we did stumble across Kirk Pengilly, so we split the difference.
You should look worried, mate. I’ve got a copy of Welcome To Wherever You Are somewhere that’s just gathering dust.
The hairy man-love thing was easy. Luckily, we routinely keep our hairy mate Threaders nearby for just such an emergency, and he took surprisingly little coaxing.
Tastes like denim and regret.
So that’s almost it.
We’re planning one last farewell for Keith in Sydney this Saturday. If you feel that you need or deserve to come and say goodbye, email me at the address up there on the top left of the page (cleverly hidden in the words “Email Me”), and tell me about it. If your heart is true, you can come along.
I’m not crying. I’ve just got something in my eye.