Rats In The Gutter

Jesus H Christ is it a crime to be messy these days or what? Seriously, the optimisation metrics, this ideology of converting every micro-event into revenue is becoming very effing suffocating. Like seriously, is there no inch on god’s green (ish) earth safe from the parasitic reach of The Economic Incentive? In this vacuum packed cat suit of a social climate the rats wonder about the true value of performative politeness, and whether we might be better off showing each other our teeth every once in a while; especially seeing as the edicts of politeness are rooted in maintaining bourgeois orders, vertically stacked ones of the haves and have nots etcetera. This is obviously not licence to treat other people badly, but it is something of a call to consider the essential mysteries of being human and act accordingly, to treat each other as the exhaustive evolutionary miracles we are rather than a collection of standardised pathologies and KPIs, with trackable social-media interfaces. God forbid we should try to confuse the lines drawn for us by acting outside of them, however this might look . Something of a necessity, actually, when those lines are put in place by a sprawling network of genocidal imperialism. Anyway The Devil Wears Prada 2 is out! While one rat feels meh about it the other is candidly surprised by how not shit it is. Obviously things could’ve gone either way. While Sam hasn’t seen it (on principle) Johanna breaks down all the ways it tries (we’ll assume limply) to lambast the vacuity of fashion under late stage capitalism, which is as far away from being art as Christopher Luxon is from being a competent prime minister. But just like Luxon, Prada 2s more cutting critique’s of capitalism overall are…absent. But I guess you’ve gotta give it its chops, that a film about fashion coming out in a world where luxury consumerism is provenly anything but benign (this isn’t 2006 anymore) could even attempt to have some acumen, some awareness, even though it clearly doesn’t reach Sontag levels of criticism. I guess it’s sort of like watching a criminal lawyer (maybe Epstein’s?) monologue about the evils of lying. Or watching an evangelical christian pastor with a DL Grindr account lecture a room of depressed normies about the sanctity of marriage. In a nut shell, the call is coming from inside the house.Do you remember Hopoating your friends on the playground? Playing Buck Buck with the hopes of grinding on the jock? Join us at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In honour of Tāmaki Noir tonight being hosted by Emma and featuring Samuel here's an episode from the back catalogue.a refined and amiable guest - this week we talk to journalist Emma Gleason about life, love, and the dystopian abolishment of truth in a media landscape that has no center.Delve into our back catalogue, bonus episodes and video content at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A flashback to when Chris Parker and Eli Matthewson joined forces with Rats In The Gutter’s Johanna Cosgrove and Samuel Te Kani. This special one-off live event, we tempt the lawyers by covering modern Pride, recent break ups and gay All Blacks. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

RERUN: The Rats are taking a much deserved recording break, please enjoy this episode from the back catalogue.In this introductory episode, Samuel and Johanna explore their many indulgences toeing the line between self-care and self-harm, including (among other things) sex toys, weak white men, drinking as a national sport, smoking, full blown Burger King addiction and clinical inter-dependency. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week the rats acknowledge that they’ve had something of a hiatus, without offering apology. The world is coo coo crazy right now and if the most charismatic gutter-creatures in the southern hemisphere (ask anyone) feel like taking a break, then they’ll damn well do so, without seeking approval first. That’s how rats and narcoleptics roll. First up, the rats tackle the current feud between Sky Ferreira and Charli XCX, if only because talking about anything else at the moment (like the oil-slick creep of WW3, cabals of child-eating rapists, the unbearable bot-bullying of Chappel Roan) is just too much for the nervous system. Also, the rats discuss the difference between ‘organic community’ and ‘astro turf’, wondering aloud if they’ve missed their chance for belonging somewhere stable and good because of their priors (cough). And finally (while skipping a few erudite topics, for the sake of brevity) the rats grapple with the cosmically confounding, metabolically mysterious matter of Dog Shit, which (because dogs are so undignified that they eat literal shit) is like the shit of the very last human in the centipede, a substance so void of mineral and nutritional value that it sits somewhere between rocks and dust, but more putrid than both. That’s what you get when you’re a casual bottom feeder—clumps of anti-matter coming out of your rear end (and then, because you left your baggies at hime, its somebody’ else’s problem). It’s kind of a beautiful allegory for the current cultural ice age, really. Like whether it be movies or music or fashion or even literature, we seem to have lost any interest in chronicling ourselves with the adventure and majesty of previous eras. Either that or millennial eyes are just blind to an emerging art which only looks like a breaching turd in its early stages, and which will eventually be pushed out as a golden egg. Who can say.Contemplate Charli XCX, Kabuki Theatre and K9 Excrement with us at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The body keeps the score, and this week the rat-bodies are bedraggled, bewitched, bewigged, and decidedly simian. Which is to say, despite recent salmonella attacks (taking out both towers) the rats are present and ready to tour anyone who’ll listen through the jumble-bin of a week-in-review. Which includes; an objectively stellar idea for a dive bar named Throbs and Leaks which, having a backroom, does exactly what it says it does on the packet; the unbearable lightness of Intellectual Property; the necessity of strategic self starvation when bottoming frequently, and the dysmorphia-adjacent pitfalls of doing so; the necrotic pull of reality television as an Only Fans pipeline (becoming more and more attractive as our government reveals itself as increasingly hostile towards anyone with less than a billion in savings); the abusive relationship most of the country has with KFC (because the colonel is a cruel taskmaster with little regard for your colon, hates it in fact); the architectural grandeur of cum gutters; and, as always, the profundity of corporeal being with its fixed duration and the sometimes incomprehensible fact that death will eventually come for us all, even if we cannot envision it right now because life seems so deceptively stable day to day, despite the geopolitical nightmare we all currently reside in, and the looming impossibility of a gas crisis whose fetid edges we’re already experiencing, hurtling towards the storm’s leering eye of public transport and excessive cardio. Yes, it’s an exciting but trying time to be alive and while everything we’ve ever known starts splitting down the middle you could argue there’s no better place to be than right here in the gutter, because at the very least, when the seas rise and fire starts falling from the sky and Jojo Siwa unleashes a plague of new singles (we hope not) we’ll be together. Throb and leak in our backroom at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The spiral continues! Though getting out of bed at the moment feels like the effort equivalent of pulling wooden splinters out of your own sphincter, the rats (along with billions of other misguided humans on this planet) are doing it anyway—and how! Despite our Sisyphean misgivings about being alive, this week the chats are as torrid and torrential as ever, starting off strong with a query; if the billionaires get to eat people, then why can’t we? Why should richos get to have all the fun! Why not bring back kai tangata, that oft maligned tradition of eating one’s enemies. David Seymour a la carte? Would certainly be the correct time (and purpose) to buy an air fryer, and they’ve really gone down in price these last six months so all signs point to KFD (Kentucky Fried David). Also, after getting on the anti Wuthering Heights bandwagon without actually having seen the film, the rats have finally seen it. And . . . they regret to announce that they actually enjoyed it. It goes without saying that the liberties Fennel takes with the source material are friggin galling. But, if you imagine the book doesn’t exist and the movie is its own thing, it’s actually kind fab. Charmingly imperfect, shaggy and weird. Etc. Also also, as we nose dive into the pit together in this global ‘polycrisis’ one of the rats bemoans an especially vexing symptom of shared psychosis, which seems to be pettiness and horizontal violence of the embarrassingly transparent kind (the jealous kind). Finally, these millennials wonder aloud and despair at the reported chastity of the younger generations, who apparently don’t have the restless libido of the older kids. Maybe it’s related to 5G, or microplastics, or labubus, or fidget spinners, or how The End of Everything is actually kind of a boner killer and makes you wanna bury yourself alive in a cosy hole in the ground, or drift out to sea on a one man raft with a case of wine and an eight kilo bag of trail mix. Who can say.Enjoy some delicious and piping hot KFD with us at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week the rats are cinephiles and snap review The Moment, which they were lucky enough to see an advance screening of at Avondale’s illustrious Hollywood Theatre. The verdict? A not quite scathing enough meta-comedy about the cultural death of mass entertainment, and the slaughter a certain level of fame does to an artist’s integrity, when they’re willing to make potentially damning compromises in exchange for the meteoric success of, say, someone like Taylor swift; who arguably never had artistic integrity (in as much as being a teenaged country music star is the same as being a Hitler Youth pin up) and who Charli (maybe) specifically targets in her spoof of arena spectacles. The overt jabs at Coldplay are also very very welcome.Also, the rats get nostalgic and remember a bygone era through fondly recalled affordable fragrances—Diesel, Gucci Rush, and something called Strawberry that had a very exciting bottle for a scent close enough to Cool Charm as to be indistinguishable, which might’ve been its age-specific appeal (simple aromas for unsophisticated palettes; the rats can’t relate). And we’d be remiss not to extend a shout out to maverick branding exercise Herbal Essences, whose fantasias of aromatic brunettes in orgasmic toilette was something of a cornucopia of marketing finesse, introducing the concept of the female orgasm to the misogynist masses for whom the very notion of female pleasure (independent of a cock) was quite foreign. Finally, the rats bemoan the recent insanity of a school sports day getting marched on by a bunch of grumbling terfs for whom trans kids playing a bit of girls cricket (or whatever happens at school sports days) was inexplicably alarming. Like, why do you care so much about teenage bodies? Why not just get I HEART JAILBAIT tattooed to your forward. Either way these predators hiding their voyeuristic tendencies behind generic and flimsy moralism is getting reeeeeeal old real quick. Reminisce the redolence of a time gone by with us at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

So many things to be disappointed by, so little time. At the top of the list this week is Gaga’s murky position on Israel, because we think the lady doth NOT protest as much as she could be protesting. Being an ally of white gays is a serviceable pass up to a point, and that point is most definitely conspicuous silence on a very visible genocide lol. Another visceral disappointment in this wicked world is the cops recently being given the authority to shuttle homeless people out of the CBD into . . . where exactly? Maybe they’ve colluded with CERN and opened portals to various mirror worlds where the unhoused can start new lives, so long as they can figure out how to negotiate inverted matter and make treaties with inter dimensional beings that (allegedly) want to harvest their energies. Or something. Some things that the rats are not disappointed by this week include the pending Scary Movie sequel, because Anna Faris and Regina Hall are as big a part of millennial cultural memory as 9/11 and the iPod. Also, the final Splore, which Johanna attended, and which we spend a good time celebrating as the very good time it actually was, and which ultimately exists as another disappointment, because it’s our government’s fault the beloved festival is no more; apparently the funds it needed to continue went, instead, to supporting an NZ stop on American pop-punk band Linkin Park’s world tour. Sans Chester Bennington obviously, who ‘committed suicide’ about a decade ago; who, at round about the same time, was making a documentary about human trafficking that may or may not have come close to the darkling realities outlined in the Epstein Files, and whose collaborators (including Avici) have all also mysteriously passed away. So totally not suspicious at all lol.Visit a mirror world with us at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Soooooooo everything’s totally cool and normal right now aye, like definitely so chill that anxiously masculine influencers are looksmaxing which is another way of saying trying to look even more European than they already do, making mogging and the like a kid-friendly introduction to eugenics and nazi aesthetics, which probably has absolutely nothing to do with a male loneliness epidemic engineered by Epstein and cabal, which probably also has nothing to do with the fact Clavicular (like Andrew Tate but skinnier and more gay) is both microdosing meth to keep his weight down (similar to nazis, who were massive tweakers) and being sugar-babied by none other than Evil White Gay Peter Thiel whose heinous tech company Palantir introduced automated racial profiling to the world (among other things); and the fact that Theil is in the cabal as per The Files is also another complete coincidence and certainly not some terrifying sign of coordinated steps in an oligarchic sequence of popular white supremacy with the endgame of unleashing the peasantry on each other to thin the population and distract immiserated masses (literally you and me) from the incremental replacement of capitalism (bad enough) with techno feudalism (patently worse and already here). So yeah, like I said, so cool and normal. With everything being so cool and normal the rats still find some interesting things to chat about. Like; the great national mystery of the missing Māori economic base, which David Seymour definitely thinks has nothing to do with historic treaty swindles; and, the difference between psychosis and hypoxia, because so many people these days are experiencing one or the other, and it’s important to know your malady; and, the private fear that Emerald Fennel’s Wuthering Heights might actually be, well if not good then campily enjoyable. What a time to be alive.Looksmaxx with us over at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Oh dear, it looks like we’ve been so desensitized to horror that full disclosure doesn’t mean diddly (doesn’t mean DIDDY) any more. Like, what even is happening with the Epstein Files? The rats don’t personally go in for annual bingo cards because they’re adults and not dead-eyed youths reducing every uncomfortable aspect of life to a game or meme trope, but that said, if either rat had a bingo card it would definitely not have had billionaire pedo cannibals on it. Never mind the fact they’re billionaire pedo cannibals who have either directly bankrolled or endorsed a live-streamed genocide, and that they are billionaire pedo cannibals our current government is not doing anything to distance us from. Like, I’m not keen on having America mining us or whatever, but I feel doubly not keen when the man behind the drill allegedly banged a child and then ate some of her (ALLEGEDLY). Feels like a no brainer tbh. Anyway…in this sort of Waitangi special the rats get nostalgic about the glass wares on the marae; a very specific type of cup that must’ve been part of some national standard at one time. Or a Briscoes sale. Likelier the Warehouse. Also; would Johanna ever fake her own death?The answer is probably yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. And then, if only because they have to, the rats discuss the Super Bowl, that American ritual of sound and fury which obviously split into factions this year with Turning Point’s sub par alternative show, headlined by a geriatric pedo who at the very least hasn’t eaten anybody (that we know of). While the rats have a heated debate about whether the symbolism of a Halftime Show has any social or cultural impact whatsoever, the world burns more and more furiously, and every able body under the age of sixty wonders whether they’d go as far as snipping their own achilles heel to dodge the draft. You know, like Trump did. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Welcome back to the gutter where the living ain’t easy and the joys of scraping by are . . . well, few and far between. But like, ‘community’. And like, ‘therapy’. Because while everything is on fire you can at least anaesthetise with self-care and yet another instalment of whatever the Kardashians are up to these days (*vomit sound). On the Kardashians, the rats revisit Kanye’s public apology for like, the last few years in which he identified as a Nazi and made songs about hitler, as well as rubbing shoulders with soft-cock fake-goth abuser Marilyn Manson, and a slew of albums which suffered not only from ironic fascism (???) but also lacked the glory of previous albums in which craft was the priority and not flaccid alt-right shock. Can we really forgive a balding bipolar has-been because, to quote his apology, he had a ‘head injury’ that made him think jews bad hitler good? Probs not tbh. Also; clearly Nicola Willis is terrible at her job. But with one of her few credentials being in English and poetry, the rats wonder what a poet Willis used to write about. Did she subvert canon and use kiwi imagery steeped in the miseries of Sylvia Plath? (Think a pavlova drizzled in period blood). Or maybe she used staccato stream of consciousness, like an affluent Janet Frame, minus the flare or urgency (and talent). The rats can only guess without eyes on Willis’s actual work, but they have to assume she’s a better poet than treasurer because if not, the safest thing would be for this early work to stay buried lest it resurface as just another humiliation on an already long list; somewhere between disappearing boats, e-scooter fails, and a collection of Blazers so plain they’d make Margaret Thatcher look like Liberace.Support us because nobody else will: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Here we are in the new year, and any hopes of an improvement over the cluster fuck of 2025 are well and truly shot to shit. Because apparently we’re all expendable when it comes to the resource grabs of sycophantic billionaires. Bleating sheep marching obediently to the slaughter (sooooo brat summer). And yet the world is still so full of wonder. Like pussy sponges, an ancient solution to the age-old snafu of having sex on your period. Historically retrieved from the sea there are all sorts of synthetic materials available to those too far a drive from the coast for the humble sea cucumber and its absorbent variants. Cotton wool? Literal wool? The world of household items is your literal oyster. However, as one of the rats points out after recent first hand experience, a sponge lacks the tampon’s convenience of a drawstring. A help-mate to pull it out after use is recommended. Also, Johanna shares a recent experience of spontaneous non-sexual exploration of other women’s bodies in a club bathroom. The kind of sensual camaraderie men can’t consent to without the garb of contact sport or war, but which they would obviously very much like to have without risk of terminal gayness (an irremovable stain). Which begs the question; what’s more fulfilling, romance with a partner or romance with friends? The rats do not have an answer. Just voracious sexual appetites that no amount of cottaging can satisfy. They do try though. Frequently. And athletically. Also, what IS a functioning city, and what lengths are we willing to go to live in one? And more importantly, what does it matter in a resurgence of global fascism remaking every city in its own image anyway? Hold on to your tits girls; coz Paris is burning. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Wow, what a year this week has been! Just when you think the stink of western madness couldn’t get thicker on the air…it does. But anyone living on this side of 9/11 knows already that it can always get worse; and just in time for Christmas! One of our favourite things to do over the Christmas period is spiral in the family home after declining to join your loved ones at lunch, only to pull back from full dissociative affect by watching a familiar movie. Often this is Batman Returns or Eyes Wide Shut. But this year, why not remember the year that was by spiralling into a classic Rob Reiner, who we are presently mourning after he and his wife were stabbed to death in their LA home. The man gave us Princess Bride, and also This Is Spinal Tap, among others. And much like the inconceivable tragedy on Bondi Beach, Reiner’s death has already been re-framed by a toad-faced politician with a tic-tac-choad. Apparently, his death was an inevitable result of being anti-Trump (or so says Trump). Also on the agenda this week; theorist Byung Chul Han’s notion of terrorism as the ultimate selfie (kms), the offering of comedians versus the offering of musicians, the semiotic wasteland of techno neo-feudalism, the mirage of nationalism, and the unlikely power of Lynn Ramsey’s latest film Die My Love, in which impending climate doom and The Malaise Of The End are gorgeously rendered as one woman’s struggle with post natal depression (serious, it’s lit; and also the most punk thing you’ll see this year).Let rats live in 2026 by supporting us via patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The rats are in mourning this week as Jimmy D, perhaps NZ’s last source of spiritually consistent urban gothic, closes its doors. As longtime fans of death-eater adjacent hotness, we feel the loss, and pity New Zealanders who wouldn’t bat an eye, and who clearly never grew up with the kinds of adolescent anti-social malcontent that leads later in life to success in the arts. In memoriam, we list our favourite Jimmy commodities, which include Berghein ready meshes and a VERY limited edition perfume which had notes of piss and cum braided so subtly with the linen-fresh of post-coitus Sunday morning bedding. Magnifique! Of course, there’s some confusion as to how this effect is achieved in the world of perfumery. Contrary to a very uncommon misconception, when a perfume strives to emulate bodily secretions in an aesthetically pleasing way, literal cat shit is generally not a viable (or legal) ingredient. With the ball rolling down an inevitable and endlessly quotable trough of listicles, the rats proceed to name their top five books, films, and tv shows; which makes sense in a saturated media landscape where digital consumption is technically our new civic (and moral) duty. Obvious crowdpleasers like David Lynch and Buffy abound, as well as lesser known but semi-popular favourites; like the centuries long submarine classic Das Boot, or the lush family romance of Salo (cough). Also, we ask the question everyone’s been too afraid to ask; is Johanna POC? Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

It is officially Wicked Season and if you’re not a shrill femme jumping on the Ozian Express and getting your landing strip dyed a pleasing shade of verdigris, are you even ALIVE??!! Arguably, as our producer has pointed out, the true cinema of Wicked is the press tour, and by golly if Cynthia and Ariana haven’t ratcheted up the lezzy-platonic-whatever-it-is thing that they have going on like a director cut sizzle reel of the L Word. Truly, Cynthia Erivo is a force to be reckoned with and any mere mortal would be questioning their sexuality around her. Who doesn’t want to be Cynthia’s little pocket princess right now? Even if Ariana doesn’t get the Oscar, she’s got Erivo’s jacked arms and soothing upper-crust-British accent (worthy consolations). Oh to be the quasi-erotic fixation of a superhuman vocalist with the physical discipline of a Russian gymnast. Also, while the rats opine their lack of a Cynthia-Ariana style romance in their own lives, they discuss how finding a partner at this point is predominantly about just having someone beside you when we inevitably all burn together. You know, a fellow witness for the End of Everything (feasibly fucking imminent LOL). But in their chronic singleton status there’s always the symphonic stylings of Rosalia’s LUX (a cultural landmark akin to Moses’ high camp unveiling of the Ten Commandments on Sinai) to ease the stubborn agony of being alive in 2025. *sigh.Support us and Cynthia Erivo at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

There’s something rotten in the South Pacific (it’s cops, we’re talking about cops). Recent salacious pedo-adjacent revelations in NZ’s law enforcement aside, there is just SO MUCH to cover here at the end of everything, and the rats feel so honoured to have an avid listenership to join them in bearing witness to the rising seas (and everything that comes with that). Firstly, Auckland’s hornet problem, made more terrifying by the fact that they’re squirters (relatable, but ya know; time and place). Secondly, Johanna revisits her experiences as a young aryan-looking dressage aspirant at Horse Camp, a REAL THING THAT HAPPENED. While tumbling down nostalgia lanes, Johanna also tours us through the good Welly times of a local dairy-cum-party-hotspot, of which it’s reasonable to say Auckland has its own variations (not without a meth element though, which just isn’t everyone’s cup of tea). Second-to-lastly, we explore the recently disused Anthropocene moniker, and elect Cthuluhcene as a possible replacement, even though it feasibly all ends the same (so who tf cares; like, everyone dead etcetera). And last but not least, MUSICALS! Believe it or not Sam only saw Cabaret for the first time THIS YEAR, and is aghast at his own cultural lethargy. Turns out Bob Fosse is something of a genius. Get amongst!Support our broke asses and see the video episodes and bonus content at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

WARNING—contains a full minute of dead air as Johanna leaves the studio for a spew. A prerequisite of living in the gutter is humility—which, this week, Sam and Johanna seem to be in short supply of. Maybe we can blame the fact that narcissistic personality types are the new normal, or maybe it’s a contagion spread to us by our affluent gay friends who are more white and liberal than a Jacinda Ardern plush toy doing the hokey pokey. No Ardern shade really; only the world’s gonna need a lot more than ‘kindness’ to pull it out of its seasonal funk (side note; Ms. Ardern has recently done a speaking tour with Zionists *gag). Perhaps in aid of redeeming the complicity of white liberalism, ala terfy white gay guys and the Be Kind crew, the rats look to the Bible; and a heartening example of twinks fighting the good fight. You guessed it, it’s David and Jonathan from the Book of Samuel! Did you know that ‘harpist’ was code for pass-around party bottom? Look it up! (Must be able to translate Hebrew). Also; we question the true radical nature of neurodivergence, and whether deterritorializing flights from instrumentality are actually capable of culture jamming, or if it’s just another identitarian ploy for commercial anti-capitalism. Or something. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Get ready non-paying listeners (cough; no shade) for a very special and hopefully consistent-hereafter Agony Aunt section in which we answer your queries qualms and primal screams. Well, we do our best. As we see you have; your responses to our calls for willing plaintiffs has been voluminous and shrill (a compliment). And how can we blame you—life feels like a succession of vertigo-inducing obstacles in this particularly fraught historical moment. Obstacles the rats give a brief but strangely comprehensive tour of, from the national blight of Judith Collins, to the tragic regional loss of Bacios, one of Whangarei’s long standing (and infamous) night clubs where both rats have had formative experiences, on par with how golden age celebs of the seventies wistfully talk about Studio 54 (minus the A class drugs and human trafficking . . . we assume). A stretch sure. But not a place without its charms.Like . . . the enduring appeal of the Great Unwashed, a type of bush-man known only to rural areas that city folk CANNOT comprehend. And as anyone that is viscerally repulsed by class violence will know, once you get a whiff of His forever-pheromones (soap and hydrochloric resistant) you’re under His spell, and you’re either ending the night in the back of his ute, or drinking enough whiskey you can give him a languid gobby in Bacio toilets without thinking about why the floor is so sticky. Sigh—truly the end of an era. Also, Azealia Banks has turned her fetid coat on Isreal yet again, in a string of tweets nearly identical to the last time she played in Tel Aviv in 2018. First she loves it, then she hates it. We’re presuming not because her common humanity rightly opposed genocide, but because the venue didn’t provide her with the kind of drugs that make playing in an apartheid state possible. Silly bitch Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello there, our beloved and non paying listeners. This week the rats weave and wend their way around a world teetering on total shit fuckery (some would say we’re already there, or have been ever since the Iron Lady mainstreamed pillaging public infrastructure for the benefit of a ruling elite; tomay-toe toma-toe). In the rat’s shared world, which is still shared despite being separated by the Tasman sea, so much is going on that it’s difficult to put into words. Easier to put into a sustained note of primal screaming. In the undying spirit of the Avantgarde the rats offer a shaky middle ground with a near-hour of hyperbole and paranoia, with a dash of crowd-pleasing body horror. Like, the fact that Sam was recently grindr-catfished by Whangarei’s finest. Which would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the upset stomach he got from swallowing A LOT of . . . well, you know. Add to this the whole block of Ghana he ate to get the taste and feel of hot white rancid lava out of his mouth/gut, and you might be able to guess how he’s finding his impromptu trip up north—familiar, bloating, and a little salty. This particular complaint leads Sam and Johanna down a nostalgic lane of old Whittaker’s campaigns. Specifically, the one where a biracial couple (for reference, a very hot svelte athletic couple; for the optics) dive into creamy vats of opposite blends; a white woman goes Ghana, a dark skinned man goes Milky Bar. The pair emerge as delectably coated racial cosplayers—roll branding. As if to say chocolate and eugenics go hand in hand—at least since (insert whatever year Whittakers was established). Also, we’d be remiss if we didn’t temper our id-fuelled verbal bricolage with some general pessimism about the approaching race/class/water wars. Which we do here. Enjoy (and see you in the thunder dome). Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Everything is faaaaaaaarked. And yet, the rats are here. Picking the carcass of the west for views and likes. This week, Winnie Peters is a big brown anti christ! Doxing is not all good, but self-hating brownies who live in glass houses (or the beehive) should NOT throw stones (cough cough lol). Also, Taylor versus Charli. Taylor McSwift made a serious blunder when she came for the people’s princess. Furthermore, clapping back to a considered nuanced exploration of horizontal violence between professional women with playground mudslinging is not a good look. The equivalent of pee-pee-poo-bum. Get a grip Tay (grow up). Theeeeen a very erudite but seriously un-researched deep dive into a maybe-global-network of white supremacists. Like, actual reich personnel being rotated out of Germany circa 1948 and installed at various sites around the world, making the hellscape we know and love today. Finally, Sam quite can’t believe when Johanna tells him that our blighted government has rebranded literal inequality as ‘a two speed economy’. Not a great time to be a person. Envy the rat. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Another day, another National bequeathed nightmare. And yet more fixation on the unbearable incompetence of Nicola Willis. I know I know blaming a single person for the ruinous policies of an entire party is a bias, and in this particular instance borderline misogyny. But at this point we’re kinda not feeling beholden to considering the feelings of our shit-brained self-interested bloated-bellied government because they’re LITERALLY forcing everyone in this country to be complicit in an effing genocide. To take her mind off the profound national shame of our ELECTED leaders allying us with this century’s Nazis, Johanna goes to the ballet. Dracula to be precise. And finds herself surrounded by a frankly unreadable crowd. Who would’ve thought that Dracula the ballet would pull both borderline steampunk cosplayers, and cat eared femboys? A hybrid audience to say the least. But then I guess suffering at the hands of a nocturnal parasitic aristocrat is extremely relatable in our age of melanin deficient tech moguls. And once more, we turn to Nicola Willis and the mysterious case of the emperor’s new boats. Sam is horrified to realise the full extent of Willis’s suicidal approach to the NZ economy (if there is such a thing; pure theology). For example he didn’t realise a bargain deal on boats had already been secured, which Willis then scrapped, only for another more expensive deal to be struck when she realised that actually, it’s kinda important. Because the South Island is like, a real place. It definitely exists. People definitely live there. It’s definitely still quote unquote New Zealand. Also; Charlotte Gainsbourg’s sentient and detachable clitoris. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week, Melbourne vs Auckland. Which is better? Just kidding; it;’s obviously Melbourne. And yet the rats, being measured journalists, provide a balanced review of both locales, two places that are so different but also so similar; like their resemblance in local cuisine (meth). Or the casual and continued usurpation of the indigenous! With that in mind Johanna is settling in well, having just sourced an apartment in the scabies-riddled hipster paradise of Fitzroy; rivalled in plaid and stick-n-pokes only by neighbouring digital nomad hot spot Brunswick.Could this be the beginning of a dynamic cultural exchange between Australia and New Zealand, the likes of which we haven’t seen since Gallipoli? Maybe. Also on the agenda—as always—the inevitable decline of the west, whether or not nazis deserve sex, the unbearable lightness of Lime bikes, small dogs, dank matter, the conspicuous collapse of Grindr every time more than one Republican enters a room, the timeless allure of femboys, the scheduled war between China and the US, how Sam’s been helping Johanna’s dad out of remission, human faeces, a waning interest in whether we live or die, and the on going beef between Nadia Lim and Missy Elliot.Get behind the paywall at: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

well well well the rats are back and despite their hiatus they are NOT feeling rested. If anything their personal lives reflect the disarray of global politics. Though if they had to pick a favourite cluster fuck from the last week, it would definitely be the Nepalese uprising of angry zoomers literally burning their government to the ground for kicking them off twitter. In that vein, the rats would like to formally apologise for ANYTHING they have ever said about Gen Z, whose vacuous phone addiction and digital nativism might actually have an unanticipated radical potential (!!!). That said, the rats can’t help but feel disaffected about Charlie Kirk. Not the death of the guy (literally fuck him); more how his death will inevitably be spun into an unhinged attack on the dreaded left, despite the fact that kirk’s shooter was a friggin Groyper (an alt right douche). As Johanna’s dad conveniently points out while overhearing our less than informed historical speculations, it’s not dissimilar from the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, in which biased spin about who did what and why triggered the First World War, which arguably engendered the second, which arguably put the tinders of a third world war in cold but living storage (and here we are). So yeah, pessimism is rife this week. But at least the Palestine march in Auckland had a hearteningly massive turnout; even if our government is too dickless to take a stance. In the rats humble opinion the world is currently over abundant with ugly middled aged men gaming public institutions to benefit private interests. How’s about we make like Nepal’s Gen Z and thin the crowd.Get in behind (and behind the paywall too) at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What a time to be alive! The states are stating, the gulags are gulaging, and the labubu continues to rise as a new synthetic super power with total fractal. Domination of the collective human psyche in its sights. But what of toy-crazes of yesteryear? Such as, the Sea Monkey. Revisiting Johanna’s private shame this week, we reminisce about an earlier episode in which she confesses (is found out, actually) to having thought the eponymous sea monkeys had the simian form of their artful marketing. Mandela Effect? No; psychosis. Or, the luminous slippage between expectation and reality which we’re all prey to within these mortal coils and their roving dreaming, which seems hell bent on unknitting the limits of the corporeal with bigger bolder more destructive dreaming. Or whatever.Also this week, were stuck on Saveloy Squids on both sides of the pay wall, for which the rats are extremely sorry (‘why is the precious meat brown?’). Like the labubu and asbestos, Saveloy Squids are a novel craze destined to ravage a significant cross section of the population with stealth carcinogens, predictably designed to thin the crowd before anybody even notices what’s going on. Forget the greys; squids are the REAL threat. The rats also discuss the perennial conditioning of women to be nice to men (vomit sound) and a Titanic-sinking conspiracy that’s as well researched as the government budget (cough). Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What a world we’re living in! They say god is dead but the rats know our One True Lord and Saviour is convenience, a modus operandi that’s convenient to some and kind of a bum deal to others depending on which side your bread’s buttered on; (Global) North or South. And so, the rats spend some time swapping misadventures on Uber Pool that’s equal parts sympathetic to the plight of neo slavery (which our gig-economy indelibly is), while opining the acute angles of the inescapable human zoo we all find ourselves in (like with everything there are pros and cons). For example, what do you do when your uber driver’s on the tail end of a 12 hr shift and is clearly showing symptoms of a potentially homicidal nervous breakdown? Not much tbh because you’re not behind the wheel, so if he decides to take a sharp and final left off Grafton Bridge there’s not really much you can do about it; the fact he’s letting you vape in the car should take the edge off though (true story).Also also, join the rats in their mutual salivation as everyone’s favourite (maybe guilty) pleasure Florence and the Machine gears up for another bombastically operatic release. We don’t know about you but the rats enjoy Flo’s self described ‘incorrigible maximalism’ as a salve to an otherwise risk averse media landscape that’s all petit blondes and fourteen carat labubus (snore). Also; are you team Ethel or team Lana? Also also; does it matter which pale-skinned pop star you’re allegiant to when we’re cusping societal collapse? You bet it does! Inevitably, our pop preferences will dictate which cannibal urban gangs we self-organise into once the beehive goes radio silent and we’re fighting nazis for bags of pestilence riddled flour in the streets. I know which swamp queen I’m rooting for.Protect your local rats and get bonus content here: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Guests! Give a very warm welcome to our very special guests actor Matt Whelan and writer/actor Sophie Henderson, two of NZ’s finest film and television talents whose recent film Workmates just premiered at the NZIFF to acclaim and accolades and the kind of national pride our government should be aspiring to, rather than allying itself closer to a genocidal behemoth by letting them build an intelligence office in Wellington (kms). But Matt and Sophie aren’t just polymaths of screen and stage; they’re also humans, with stories and foibles like the rest of us. So join us for a magical hour of relatable truth saying (“we’re just like you”) by two kiwi treasures as they beguile us with anecdotes and BTS goodies like you won’t get anywhere else. Specifically, how their experiences with locally beloved venue Basement shaped their film’s story of resilience in the arts during austerity (and if that sounds familiar, it’s because we’re living it). Also featured; the unbearable lightness of platonic entanglements, the humid weight of modesty garments then filming sex scenes, and meeting a playboy bunny.It’s an exclusive glimpse behind the curtain and you’re very welcome (RNZ could never).Get Part 2 but supporting us at: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Like they’ve never done before (cough) the rats talk about democracy’s failings and how its formal and informal elements need to be kept distinct enough we have a functioning society, which anyone with a semi-functioning only marginally divergent brain can see we currently don’t have (or worse, are in the agony stages of losing permanently; use it or lose it!). but on a lighter note . . . eugenics! Sydney Sweeney’s been accused of pimping herself out to an optics of white supremacy, and while the rats are concerned they are also NOT concerned because people are literally dying and an object scientists thought was an asteroid might actually be hostile aliens and will be here by Xmas. It’s kinda hard to no where one’s priorities should be in such trying times. If Auckland had more options these rats might be prioritising getting laid. But unfortunately the wider population doesn’t share their enthusiasm for the orgy at the end of the world, and maybe won’t until it’s too late and we’re all getting lethally probed on a Y2K mothership with Giger-nightmares, no lube. Also on a lusciously varied agenda this week; when road rage is xenophobia, body horror, the alluringly unyielding embrace of a reformer pilates machine, and the lost art of disappearing completely!Support our rattie asses over at Patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The clubs that raised us! The rats get nostalgic about a time when all venues were open til six AM, where supper clubs could serve you a pre-work night cap at eight, and the shame flowed as thick and hot as mid morning vodka red bulls. It’s a time that seems comparatively free and footloose, where the youths of today wouldn’t hit the club without checking their weekly schedule for important obligations that would otherwise be disrupted by a bender—whereas millennials saw the chic and beauty in premature death, a romantic strain now dead and gone (replaced by mogging mewing looks-maxing and biohacking; yuck!). Also also, LOVE IS BULLSHIT, is something the rats are spilt on—there’s the need for validation and the need for dick, and never the twain shall meet, despite society’s best but misplaced efforts. Was romantic coupling invented by a society geared towards maximal individual productivity and consumerism? Maybe. Finally pidgeons. Johanna has a fantastic fear of our urban companions, a hardy species that, despite raising the eco-diversity of any given city, are also fetid carriers of disease and ill repute. Cute though. Anyway, hear her talk about how they ruin her otherwise pristine cafe experience in Point Chev.Support the show and get extra unhinged content at: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Okay, so the Katy Perry abuse might’ve crossed over into primal woman-hate; on a local scale we mean. Like, it’s overkill at this point. In this being the rats dissect where the admittedly gleeful train of celebrity hate might accidentally be a mouthpiece for systemic misogyny; or worse, a cultural loathing of brunettes. And what vivisection of the bittersweet phenom known as Katy Perry would be complete without a full chronology of her famous Taylor Swift beef (because, you know, we’re in the mood for some dated trivia). Slightly less dated is Ireland, as both place and concept. They’re on the rats fevered minds this week for two reasons; one, their fabulous Occupied Territories Bill which has Washington shitting itself (rightly so); and two, known bad person Conor McGregor (still hot though) has been named and shamed by Azealia Banks after misguidedly sending her the world’s loudest BPD-sufferer his nudes (*mouth waters). Yes he’s a terrible guy but I bet his rabid psychosis and jacked physique has a nice pink Ireland-reared torpedo to boot; the only missile the British Empire has ever let Ireland have, ironically (and tragically). Press play for all this and more.Support us and experience our cameras sometimes working at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

For some reason, or perhaps because a show about surviving late-stage capitalism with your friends and sanity intact is relevant now, the rats revisit some ancient Buffy lore. Or perhaps it’s because a show about the undead resonates with recent national conversations (in actual mainstream media) about resurrecting the moa, or the kiwi when it’s finally extinct; because apparently conservation is redundant when we can just clone back whatever species we accidentally annihilate. It’s important to note that Buffy is not a show about non-violence; rather, it’s about building community and then weaponising that community against the evils of the corporate state (read; the undead). In that vein, maybe we should all be dying our hair blonde and sharpening our stakes because Doctor Hammond’s got his ostrich eggs and syringes ready and the shit’s about to hit the genetically re-engineered fan lol. Also; if this were Dune Northland is Arrakis and Wellington is Caladan (weather wise).Support us on Substack to SEE THE VIDEO (and pay for microphone arms): patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Twinks; what even are they? This is just one of many hard hitting questions the rats tackle in this week’s free to air (fuckin freeloaders) episode. They don’t come to a conclusion mostly because doing so is grossly homophobic (or do they?). Also on the agenda is whether or not David Seymour should unalive himself which, as always, the rats are pretty strongly in favour of, if only because he represents reddit adjacent vitriol which our spineless PM and the National party broadly has allowed to enter the mainstream chat with the same negligence as America (and we all know how that’s going).All things considered it’s a rough and tumble world out there at the moment, which is something most women know already. Which is why both rats feel that the quote unquote ‘nice woman’ is not aspirational in this or any climate. I mean, if women have been forced to adopt malicious strategies towards survival because it’s a man’s world and so often global games of dick measuring means mushroom clouds and mass graves, then who can blame the ‘difficult woman’ for being so. Not only is She completely understandable; the rats find her enviable, and seek her out like the Virgin Mary’s older cooler sister who would never lie about a ‘divine pregnancy’ because she’s already nipped the problem in the bud (she knows people). A mixed bag this week.Bonus content, video content, unhinged content at: patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

SORRY FOLKS - this ep is coming out about a week late due to a technical errorIf the rising seas don’t vanish Venice then surely Jeff Bezos’ repugnantly lavish wedding and its vile attendees will sink it faster than nineties-sized Oprah on a boogie board. So hypothesise the rats. Also, Lorde’s Virgin is finally here and so the rats share their initial impressions, and relief that Ella’s stepped away from NZ-tourism adjacent guitar pop and given us something ornate and vaguely menacing, like she’s oh so good at. Also also, the importance of European snobbery comes up as a threshold for good taste globally; naturally, Sabine makes a guest appearance and looks down her very long very French nose at the conspicuous consumption of the mega rich and poo-poos the gauche-ness of extreme wealth, as we all should. In fact, like French peasants and the majority of folk traditions that have come before, we should all probably seek out the embattled grimoires of feudalisms past and hire demon agents to topple the modern-day castles; it’s the purpose witchcraft has served in the past, and the rats concur that vintage is the new Y2k. An infernal curse to give anyone earning over a hundred mil a sentient face-goiter? Tick.Get in the nest at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This ep is proudly sponsored by One Percent Collective: opc.nz/RATSReality bends, warps, is vulnerable to liberal edits by every twelve year old with an iPhone, and is the worse off for it. That’s what we’re dealing with, collective sanity taking an extended sabbatical. And that’s the exact tone the rats take with its free-to-you ep this week, a shame-free fact-free spiral down various rabbit holes including Philip K Dick’s absurd declaration of female pop singers being emissaries of a supreme alien intelligence (The Logos), inter-dimensional travellers cleaning up after humanity’s nuclear mishaps, and whether or not Crushes has the best scented candles money can buy (which they do). Though they’d consider themselves empiricists the rats take a break from dialectical methods and explore the ‘what ifs’ of alien disclosure, which famous prophetess Baba Yaga predicted for this year, and which a new doco just premiered at Sundance called Age of Disclosure seems to herald. Are they here already? Do they mean us ill? Considering imminent nuclear holocaust, the rats take a more optimistic view that the aliens want to slow the roll out of total warfare because they can hear it through the interstellar wall, and would prefer we keep the noise down. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The rats have contracted a mental illness whereby they can’t stop name dropping. Symptoms include swapping stories about famous people who may or may not hate them. Also, seasonal depression is getting mixed up with the existential dread of democracy’s very violent and drawn out end, which the rats have various strategies for combatting; like keto friendly sweet treats courtesy of local brand Justine’s, which Sam has seriously considered emailing with a message of profound gratitude.Also, the country’s best in-store New World deli is aflame! The rats wonder whether they’ll still be able to get chicken sandwiches and hard boiled eggs on tap once the flames have been extinguished, while also being very grateful that first responders managed to get the flames under control (after several hours, cough). Also also, the rats finally give clarity to the age old question; what IS the difference between a chowder, a bouillabaisse, and a bisque? It all tastes like hot sick anyway, but we still think you’d like to know.Support us and get extra shit at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

There seems to be a lot of negative chat re Sabrina Carpenter’s new album cover, and while at least one of the rats thinks Sabrina is the pop world’s most beige offering since Missy Higgins, they both agree that women policing women isn’t on; unless it’s a grown woman advising another grown woman to keep her love of Taylor Swift on the d-low (because like every conservative grifter with a secret Grindr account knows, not all guilty pleasures are quote-unquote innocent). Also; Sam complains (again) about having his expensive douche bottle stolen and renounces Queen Street City Fitness, scene of the crime in question.He also wonders why the thief would take his douche over his bank card and Blunt umbrella (the rats decide this is yet another act of public desperation motivated by our national cost of living crisis). Finally, the rats are again in awe at people’s lack of capacity for satire, and in the same breath reconsider Michel Houellebecq’s Submission; though of course Houellebecq is a one-note writer, that note being the seemingly endless ballad of a sad white middle-aged man who’s never gotten laid in the way he’d like. His loathing of the middle class and France as a whole is just superb though, and the rats would recommend. Finally, the rats interrogate male laxity around having their mink blankets regularly laundered. As winter staples, it’s a unanimously timely and hard-hitting probing of a fractious and highly politicised topic (spoiler; you should wash your mink blankets every two weeks AT LEAST).Support us and get extra shit at patreon.com/RatsInTheGutter Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Wow, what a week it’s been. And this is certainly not a valid review because what’s a week, where am I, whose jiz is this and what even IS time? Featured in this week’s democratically available episode is the following; the evils of physically repellant politicians being allowed to attend music awards that no one invited them to anyway; the particular sadness of Helen Keller and why we love her (despite how it sounds); the exquisite joys of our first Pride without the blight of Jojo Siwa, who is this seasons sexual-turncoat (think a reverse Cynthia Nixon, but dumber); how much better your own jiz tastes when it’s being scooped into your mouth from your own freshly used orifice by a gentleman caller; and finally, how the runaway success of beloved children’s book The Gruffalo DEFINITELY had something to do with Lola Young’s music career. Caution is advised. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week the rats discuss the proverbial (delusional?) lure of escape; whether it be from an alien abduction themed escape room, or between the bars of your frankly mis-advertised air bnb at Abu Ghraib, we ask what the true cost of freedom is (hint; it’s a flaying of the face). Also, are all bisexuals ‘vers’, or is this just another myth (much like bisexuality itself; just joking, we know it’s real). Johanna’s queer-card is put to the test (and nearly revoked) as she describes how strap-ons don’t do it for her, if only because she’s a tactile gal and wants the velvety kiss of the puss against her bare fingers (or something). Also also; Sam gets excited about a ‘celestial mantis’ which the internet tells him is a real live insect species, but which (if it isn’t AI) may also be a sign of the coming apocalypse as it’s only been seen by humans three times in the last 150 years (this recent being the third official sighting). Basically a heady brew of a podcast that’ll have your grown mother girding her loins through the wall as she pretends not to overhear (because you're still living with her, presumably, in these financially impossible times).  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Twin or tumour, length or girth, polyamory or cheating. The rats are asking hard questions this week and, like most media, reducing the nuances of reality to subsets of easily digestible binaries (you’re welcome). Notably, gender is explored and the fractious myth of ‘male loneliness’ which is actually, so the rats think and say, a symptom of toxic masculinity; which, they add, no one is immune from embodying, from doe-eyed twink to bullish butch (plaid-inclusive). But perhaps the most important takeaway from this week’s episode is how the new masc ideal is porn adjacent, and willing to suck. Dick for the right price; in fact, for those investing in themselves down OF paths no prom persona is complete without situational anal, because straight sex just doesn’t have the same (paying) audience. What does this mean for sexual politics broadly? Is there a future version of het masculinity that proves itself by systematically erasing its gag reflex? Listen to find out. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This episode is proudly supported by ReWired.org.nz - a non-judgemental support group for people who want to bring their Party 'n' Play into focus.As late-stage capitalism devours us all the rats turn inward, applying the same journalistic principles of critical analysis which they’re known for to the ways in which they move through the world. This includes looking at their morning routines, varied because one of the rats is obnoxiously sober atm while the other maintains the little sanity they’re afforded by carnie-life in the form of treats and intermittently playing dead. Neither rat is very fond of AI therapists though, and take the time to denounce what they consider to be the height of species-despair and un-dignity (seriously, just unalive yourself; is probably something an AI would say, and famously has said). If not self care then what might save us? Machine Girl? (The answer is yes and we’re very excited for their Auckland gig in June; not a paid promotion). Also, does being fed a load scooped out of your freshly painted love-chute count as recommended daily protein intake, or should you supplement? Find the answer to this and so many other poignant questions within (as in within the episode, not within like how your yoga instructor means when you’re on the mats for shavasana). Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This episode is proudly supported by ReWired.org.nz - a non-judgemental support group for people who want to bring their Party 'n' Play into focus.This week at least one of the rats is experiencing the kinds of performance exhaustion that made Houdini fake his own death back in 1926 (unverified). That said, the pair drag themselves up from the bowels of ennui to deliver a refreshing overhaul of The Moment (like, spiritually; nearly zero facts). This overhaul begins with a rough inventory of gay sexual personae, including a breakdown of the mysterious veil between being an otter, and being a twink (nearly the same animal tbh). Also, the sheer agony of having to share a planet with Winston Peters, who this week gaffed on RNZ calling things like the cost of living crisis and effing healthcare ‘woke’ obsessions—like, everyone gets sick my bro. Even Hitler got the occasional cold (or maybe more than occasional considering his heavy amphetamine use lol).All of this to deflect from the fact that Winnie’s little Genital Inspection Bill is just smoke in the eyes of an NZ public that’s being robbed by profiteering MPs for whom a special circle in hell is reserved (spoiler; it includes nukes-as-butt-plugs and a rec-centre run by the guys who did Guantanamo Bay, just coz they love the US so much). Finally, there’s a very informative anecdote about gym enemies, and how to triumph over these by being the pillow princess during an impromptu orgy at your local bath-house. Kiaora! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This episode is proudly supported by ReWired.org.nz - a non-judgemental support group for people who want to bring their Party 'n' Play into focus.Not an easter special by any measure but Jesus Christ does get a mention by way of his unofficial bio-epic JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, of which Johanna is a recent convert. We’d also be remiss if we didn’t touch on Katy Perry going to space, mostly because of our deep collective grief (as a species) that she just didn’t stay up there (orbiting the planet; intermittently bumping into one of Musk’s largely ornamental satellite chains). Also also, we discuss Mickey Rourke’s recent bullying of a literal child, Jojo Siwa; and how absurd it is that an older generation of lesbian should punch down on a younger one, and so publicly. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Jubba Hive Rise! This week (under the looming shadow of . . . well, everything right now) the rats find small (guilty) joy in spending absurd amounts of money. We explore the magic of mushrooms, and in doing so are forced to confront the abjectly humiliating auras of those who love mushrooms a little too much. We touch on China’s mycelial trade reach, the absurdity of tariffs, the unbearable lightness of Jabba, all lightly spritzed with the usual caustic psychobabble you’ve come to know and loathe. Also, what are the real dangers of waxing your scrotum. And is it really such a faux pas to call it a ‘Manzillian’? And finally, whose anal trough is more appealing; Sam’s or Johanna’s (you wanna know, and we wanna tell you). And please forgive the sub-woofing sound of Sam’s vape—it’s one of the few reasons he has to get out of bed in the morning Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Johanna is in Melbourne doing the comedy circuit. So begins a month or so of long distance episodes. Kinda like Heloise and Abelard but without the platonic eroticism. And instead of a medieval cloister the rats are sending each other passionate missives from an air mattress and a shared artist studio, respectively. Highlights include sudden death, the Abu Ghraib-adjacent regimen of reformer pilates, and Picnic at Hanging Rock (which should cost definitely NOT be remade). Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Despite there being very little reason to live at the moment, what with the kinds of geopolitical instability unseen in the west since the end of WW2, the rats manage to find joy in the little things. Like wings from Dominos. The ferocious ally-ship of Azealia Banks (and how JK Rowling betrayed the millennials responsible for her ill-begot fortune). DIY glory-holes with strangers (only a towel and a shower door needed!). And nostalgic tv shows (which when indulged, more often than not, are a clear sign of an incoming depression). Also, what the effing eff are The Humours and why are they relevant in Severance? If this is the second coming of Lost we’ll be very annoyed.See Johanna Live in Melbourne | Sydney | NZ  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Trilling echolalia of the inner chamber, walls slowly closing in, but they’re gilt chintz so we don’t mind. Also fuck Luxon. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Oscars? Buzzy. Raglan? Buzzy. PR relationships? Buzzy. A tight five? Buzzy. Marmite sandwiches? Buzzy. Davide Seymour’s natal alcohol syndrome? Priceless.Get every episode early and in video, PLUS our bonus BTS episodes, on our Patreon xx Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Absurdity as a radical gesture, refusal to treat the body more specifically the face as a profitable asset, and the unbearable lightness of race. Enjoy.Get every episode early and in video, PLUS our bonus BTS episodes, on our Patreon xx Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

We’re counting the days until impact with NASA announcing the immanent arrival of a ‘city killer’ asteroid, just as Brian Tamaki is counting the days until the antagonized queers and exploited Maori and Pacifica families in his congregation cobra-strike-back. Stay tuned Tamaki you fat fuck.Get every episode early and in video, PLUS our bonus BTS episodes, on our Patreon xxGet your tickets for the crossover GAYZ IN THE GUTTER show with Chris Parker and Eli Matthewson on Feb. 17th here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This country’s going to hell in a diamanté handbag, kinda puts a damper on Pride. So we’re ashamed.Get every episode early and in video, PLUS our bonus BTS episodes, on our Patreon xxGet your tickets for the crossover GAYZ IN THE GUTTER show with Chris Parker and Eli Matthewson on Feb. 17th here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.