In one of her most vicious manoeuvres since our divorce, my ex-wife surprised me with two tickets to Crusty Demons Night of World Records. Why don't you take Patrick? He'd love it", she said. (Patrick, aged 9, is our son - the older of the Chairgoblins) "OK thanks" I said, in the voice I usually save for really crappy birthday presents, "That would be great". So off we went to Calder Park for some fun-packed Crustying. And, since I had to suffer six hours of this pigswill, I cant see any reason why I shouldn't share my misery with you. To begin, we walked miles across the windswept beauty of the Thunderdome car park to the ticket gate. I strode past the signs saying No Food, No Cameras, No Alcohol, No This, No That, and presented my ticket only to be asked if I had any food. I opened my bag and pulled out the thermos. "Coffee?" asked the stern looking security guard. "Yes", I said. "Want a cup?" I got a grunt in reply, and a wave that I took to mean Welcome, valued customer. We hope you enjoy your Crustying experience. Please proceed to the main Crustying area. I packed the thermos full of hotdogs back in the bag, fished the bread rolls out of my son's pockets, rescued the tomato sauce sachets from my wallet and headed off to find ourselves a spot on the dirt viewing embankment. As I spread out the rug, a bloke was trying to break the world minibike distance record. He crashed. Ambulance. Then some porker named Blubber (apparently a Crusty regular) tried to jump a dirt bike. He crashed. Ambulance. On the big screen we got to see someone called Space Cowboy swallow 17 swords, a Guinness Record. Clearly someone forgot to tell him about the No Knives sign. Maybe he hid them in a very large thermos. Everything stopped for rain. Hardly the promoters fault, but it looks like we're headed for a big night with the Soggy Demons of Mud. We huddled under the picnic blanket and so did everyone else. Calder Park looked like a refugee camp. I was reduced to amusing myself by watching the teenage sweety in front trying to keep the chill out of the small of her back. Her jacket was too high, her hipsters were too low. Her g-string was doing its best to keep her warm - riding up and neatly bisecting the exposed area, but theres a limit to the insulating power of dental floss. In a way, the rain was a blessing. Having suffered through the longest distance on a minibike and longest distance by a rider weighing 170kg, I was expecting to see a highest jump by a left-handed rider or most consecutive backflips by a rider from a minority ethnic group. I'm not sure I was up for that sort of excitement. Ok back to the Crusty Demons. Or rather, the 4 hours of padding that filled in the time until these heroes, these men above men, these modern day gladiators made their appearance. The rain cleared. A local kid went out to break another minibike record, but fell short on the first two attempts. With indomitable spirit, he offered to take another try. Sorry kid, no time. Come back in three years when Crusty Demons returns. You've had your 15 minutes of fame. Woohoo time for the Crusty Babes. Keep in mind that kids tickets for this show were $79. For that kind of money, I can take Patrick to The Mens Gallery, where food and alcohol (and probably cameras, for an extra tenner) are allowed. And you get to see the same show a whole lot closer. Given that they were about 500metres away, I couldn't tell if they were Babes. How Crusty they were is something I'd rather not know. Whilst I'm taking Patrick to the toilet (he consumed a litre of raspberry cordial and is a little wound up) a helicopter arrives, filled with Freestylers. Freestyle involves letting go of the motorcycle. I've done this myself on a number of occasions. Real men do it in traffic. Some chap called Blaze had imported a snowmobile from America especially to set a world snowmobile jumping record. Can you spot the mistake? Yes, he forgot to import snow! Doh!! The clever people from the snowmobile company had fitted wheels to the snowmobile, which, I suspect, would limits it's snowmobiling potential. So it wouldn't have been a snowmobile jump record. And the faux-snowmobile didnt work anyway, something to do with overheating. No jump. No record. We got the Blaze without the Glory. Next we had a band called Mammal. The lead singer was mammalian, but more closely related to Pongidae than Homo. He kept shouting "Make some noise" which was roundly ignored by the audience. After four songs, between which you could hear a pin drop, he gave the audience a pair of birds and told us to get fcuked. Apparently they've been booked to support KISS and theyre planning to Rock And Roll All Nite. Great. Now we're getting to the business end of the night. The track needs to be dry, so a Supersoaker truck appears and starts to vacuum the bitumen. We're treated to a bit of Supersoaker ballet as he drives in neat circles in order to cover the whole track. This was pretty cool although I don't think it was part of the official show. I was hoping the driver would let loose and go for the world Supersoaker jump record, but hes clearly not Crusty material. Now we get an assortment of supercharged cars demonstrating that you can drive very slowly and still make a heap of noise. 4-wheel Harleys. A hush falls over the crowd. IT'S CRUSTY TIME!!!!!!!! Hooray! Yippee! First up we have someone called Seth Go-slow. Hes very important (the greatest daredevil of his generation) but, sadly, he cant jump for shit. While his understudies are leaping well over 300ft (note the show was all in Seppo, so I had to translate for Patrick as he thinks feet are what you put you shoes on), he maxes out at 301ft. In a Night of World Records, this is a bit of a limitation. I guess he could have gone for longest distance by a rider with a titanium plate in his forehead because Seth has (you guessed it) a titanium plate in his forehead. At these ticket prices, I suspect his children have a related problem a silver spoon in their mouths. The rules were simple. To set a world record, you were allowed 4 jumps, and could move the ramp twice. Seth did 4 dud jumps. An advantage of being the boss is that you get to make the rules, so Seth went back for a fifth and did a PB of 301"11' (see I'm old enough to know my feet and inches). A pity the young minibiker didn't get the same opportunity. A quick note about the sophistication of this show. The technical stuff was amazing. The bikes were nothing compared to the commentary, with its ram-injected hyperbole, underslung overstatement, stretched metaphor and galloping analogy. And, with surprise outcomes the likes of which we only see in professional wrestling, every run down the track was â€œhere we go, itâ€™s going to be big, bigger, biggestâ€¦Ohhhhh, itâ€™s a timing runâ€. Next came someone called Capes. You'd think, with a name like that, he'd being doing the Evel Kneivel thing with, like, capes. No. He did two timing runs, one jump (setting a new world record) and then decided to withdraw from the competition with three unused jumps remaining. Hmmm. Odd. Finally, out comes Robbie Maddison. A versatile lad, Robbie was a singer with Take That before launching a successful solo career. He is, perhaps, best known for Let Me Entertain You, a song strikingly at odds with his Crusty persona. To be fair, he did set a new world record, allowing Capes to be the record holder for a generous fifteen minutes. So the local boy took out the record. A result that would make Don King proud. So what are my best memories of the night? In order: Patrick enjoying every minute Sitting under a picnic blanket in the rain while my boy snuggles up and we share a bag of chips Eating hotdogs that didn't cost $5 each (and basking in the guilty kudos that you get when your son knows that you blatantly lied to the security guard) Teenage girls in wet singlet tops confronting a chilling Melbourne westery Footnote. There was a significant tragedy at the Night of World Records, and good form requires that I acknowledge it. As we left the Thunderdome, the simian lead singer of Mammal was standing at the gate, pleading â€œwant to buy a copy of our CD? three tracks, only 5 bucks and I'll autograph it for you The same CD is $20 on their website.