Every year Malcolm McLaren mopes around town with a pile of posters.
“It’s a lonely job but at the end of the festival it really feels worth it.”
Mr McLaren’s efforts sees unhappy people cluster for a yearly bit of hanky-panky, but not all is sunshine and roses for Bendigo’s biggest bonk for the bothered.
“I’m looking at rebranding,” says Mr McLaren, while holding a poster to a tree with one hand, and trying to pick loose the end of a some sticky tape with the other.
The event has yet to become part of the Bendigo public’s diary, such as leaving town during the Easter Festival or avoiding View St during the Grand Final.
“I want a name that people engage with,” says Mr McLaren, now having torn loose the end of the tape – but not in an even tear so it has uselessly peeled off to the side, meanwhile the poster is flapping in the wind and getting creased against the bark.
In a workshop with local marketing firm Red Fire Engine Marketing, new names such as Low Serotonin With Group Sex, Depressed and Doing It, Down and In and Out, Melancholy and the Infinite Intercourse, and Gloomy and the Seven Positions were suggested.
“I liked Gloomy and the Seven Positions, it asks the question, what are the other six?” says Mr McLaren, now breaking from the discussion to use his teeth on the tape, the poster bent over in a hunch reminiscent of one of his crestfallen festival goers.
“Bloody thing,” Mr McLaren spits out a tip of tape.
The annual festival of forlorn fornication coincides with the start of Spring, and this symmetry makes Mr McLaren a little bit happy, but not too happy or that might ruin the festival’s vibe.
“To get deflated again I think about all the cleaning up I have to do afterwards and that brings me back to the crushing spirit of reality,” says Mr McLaren, his head pressed on the poster, sandwiching it between his skull and the tree, while now having both free hands to work on the tape.
“Bloody thing – oh wait, I got it!”
Posters are now up around town, but apparently the festival gets a bit messy, especially at the afterparty, where there’s puddles of lube and tears.
New name suggestions for the festival are welcome.