It’s Australia’s best kept secret that Swedish-Australian supermodel and next month’s (non-nude, puh-lease!) Playboy centrefold has a Godfather who is even more famous than herself, but due to his love of neat rum with a 7 ounce chaser and chronic lack of punting ability the bloke is not quite as well-off, and nine-tenths as poor to boot.

I speak here of course of the world’s most famous barman and globally respected fount of all wisdom, none other than our very own Kevvie, mine host in the downstairs Sports Bar (pool, darts, fishing, golf, punting and perving being the said sports) at the Geebung RSL.

Yes that’s right sportsfans the secret’s out, Kevvie is the God-parent of the second hottest bird in Christendom (the Bead-Twirler – an avid reader of this site – being of course the hottest, and hello darling I hope you’ve had a great day, I’ve got a hot tip in the last so do reckon you have a spare 50 you can throw me for a punt?)

He keeps his cards pretty close to his chest our Kevvie, but the word in the Karaoke bar is that during his long post-Vietnam military career in the Secret Services he spent a significant period of time directing covert Cold War operations from supposedly neutral Switzerland, where he made firm friends – very firm friends, if you know what I mean – with young Kelly’s mother Gita, an equally good sort back in the day and not altogether shabby 35 years later either, don’t you worry about that.

Apparently they met backstage after a Stones Concert in Geneva, where Kevvie had filled in for Billy Preston on the ivories after Billy had met a bit of rough teenage trade and disappeared for a few days, as was the genius musician pervert’s penchant during his lifetime. But Kevvie of course dazzled them, and apparently they are still talking his scene-stealing solo on Sympathy for the Devil in Scandinavia to this day.


The world famous Bung to the Bone band, who had 27 world-wide top ten hits from 1966-1989, rehearsing at the old Geebung RSL circa 1972. Kevvie is on the keyboards.

The then-young Gita fell head over heels and for three glorious months the great man schooled her up on the noble art of swordsmanship Bunger-style,. but the poor girl had her heart broken when Kevvie was transferred to a secret US military facility in Texas and to keep himself warm at night took up with Jerry Hall in between her relationships with Brian Ferry and Mick Jagger, and before she went mad and married Rampaging Rupert Murdoch.

Sharky tells me though that Gita and Kevvie remained close friends, and when after a couple of years she recovered from losing the love her life, married and dropped a calf that ended up being Kelly she decided that there was only one man for the job of providing the life-long spiritual guidance to her sprog that kids require if they want to become supermodels.



Kevvie and Sharky – brothers in arms bonded by a mutual inability to back a winner 

And of course the great man pulled off the task, just as he does with all and any that he is set, other than backing a winner or mixing a mango daiquiri for a single bloke, the former because he can’t read a form guide, the latter because in Geebung only sheila’s drink daiquiri’s and Kevvie refuses to encourage untoward drinking habits in his bloody bar.

Kelly of course is very, very fond of her GF Kev – most women are – and every time she cops a couple of weeks annual leave from her taxing job showing off Victoria’s Secret Undies and Bras, she flies over to the Bung to crash on the bottom bunk in Kevvie’s guestroom, unless of course the Twirler’s away and then she moves up a couple of streets, nudge nudge wink wink know what I mean, and don’t be repeating any of that while the missus is anywhere in earshot.

In fact even when Kelly’s not in the Lucky Country ‘cos she’s forced to go to some sh*thole like the Caribbean to take her kit off and earn a quid, the young cracker’s constantly on the Skype to Kevvie keeping in touch and seeking the great man’s advice on all things important, just like she is in the picture below.

Like I said, it’s been the Wide Brown Land’s best-kept secret, but the lid’s off now, and apparently there’s a queue of young blokes 3 miles long outside the Bunger tonight patiently waiting to get in to the Sports Bar and have a chat to our man Kev.

I wonder what they want to talk to him about?