Category Archives: ASK ROGAN


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“Around half way through Europe my bubble burst. I started hearing reports from Italy that the Vatican was trying to ban my show.”

So I’m in Rome, and Mike Anthony AKA D BOY and I decided to do a photoshoot at the Church of San Giovanni in Piazza San Giovanni. I rocked up to the apartment he’s crashing at a few hours earlier without having dinner, but arriving with my camera, and a bottle of rum for him and whiskey for me. We can all see where this is going…

So we start in a mirrored bedroom with D in heels, black undies, cap and smoking cigarettes, and we consume what must have been a shit load of booze. I don’t know if it was because I haven’t eaten or I am 10 kilos lighter but unbeknownst to me I get drunk. Then D Boy pulls out a USA backpack that he bought in a Chinese shop in Spain and wants to do a location shoot with it.

I follow him to the fore mentioned location and he gets his gear off, wearing only my #dontyouknowmyshoesarefamous yellow Adidas kicks, red GoGo shorts, black cap and this cheap ass back pack.

This wasn’t a XXX shoot, but I guess thinking back on it now, D BOY in skimpy red shorts would have stood out like a lighthouse with his milky white skin! The stupid thing was we had actually wrapped up the shoot when I remembered I had Mousey in my pocket and I said to D BOY, “Quick, let’s get a few with Mousey!” Which was when two cop cars pulled up, like in the scene in Baz Luhrmann’s, Romeo and Juliet, at the steps of the chapel after Romeo had popped a cap in Tybalt.

D BOY quickly puts his clothes back on as the police officers approach us speaking English and Italian, asking what we are doing. D BOY starts talking to them in Italian and all of a sudden none of them speak English anymore. There’s a bitch cop full of attitude, seriously she was a dyke or compensating for not having a cock, and 3 blokes. I approach the she-bitch and the guy next to her and try to communicate with them. They speak Italian back to me and I point out that they were both speaking English a few seconds ago, to which the wanker dude replies, “You are in Italy. You speak Italian”.

D’s doing most of the peace treaty talk. They all seem focused on him, I think of a quick getaway but realise I don’t know where Mousey is? The little shit probably ran off at the first sign of trouble. Eventually they ask to see the photos and I show them. Then they ask me to delete them. Horrified I say, “Why?” They look at me weird so I may have mumbled something incoherent, as I was drunk. (Unbeknownst!) Regardless, I will not compromise my art and defend it till my dying breath! There’s a lot more talk which I don’t understand. I’m trying to reason with them but I think I’m just pissing them off more than anything.

All of a sudden one of the guys opens the police car doors and tells us to get in. At which point D BOY points out that if they had anything on us they would have arrested us already. This only fuels my foolish rebellion as I really don’t want to delete my pictures and decide to fight for my rights as an artist and proclaim, rather dramatically, “Arrest me then!” And jump in the car. The guy then tells me to get the fuck out at which point I have a moment of clarity about my situation and where I am and quickly jump out of the car.

Another bloke takes D BOY aside and in between asking him advice on steroids, tells him they don’t give a fuck about the photos but they were called here due to complaints and need to resolve the issue. He then goes on to explain the crazy Aussie can delete the pictures or we can all go back to the station and nothing will actually happen to us but it will take up the rest of the night. D BOY translates and I wonder why they just don’t smack our asses and tell us to piss off while I eye the female officer cause she’s a cunt.

I eventually give in, or maybe its instantaneous, as time is unaccountable for when you’re pissed. I painfully go through the entire shoot with cunt face and the guy that spoke to D and delete all the pictures they think are disrespectful to the FKIN church I’m standing in front off. I try to sneak over a few all the while hoping no cock shots pop up outta the blue. Finally happy they have upheld the law we are allowed to go.

Here are the only images saved from that night…

We walk home. I vomit in the toilet and pass out.

The end.

Oh, Mousey was in D Boy’s pocket the whole time laughing his little face off.



On the 28th February I walked onto the IFBB Melbourne Championship stage and came 1st in the Novice Bodybuilding division and my very first ever bodybuilding competition. This was a qualifier for the Arnold Classic that is on the 19th March. But this day was much more important to me. My father was a professional bodybuilder and always wanted to see me compete. Even though he passed in 2015 here remains in me and everything I do. I haven’t spoken a lot about my father but lets just say I am my father’s son and he is the man that has had the biggest influence and made the biggest imprint on me and the person I am today.

That trophy was for you dad.

The next one at the Arnie Classic, that one I’m doing for me…

images DAMO from the Dark Room



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I get nervous when I fly. It’s one of the few times I still do. Why? Cause, undoubtedly I always have trouble. In Madrid I was dragged into a back room and Wampa and I were stripped searched. This experience was new to Wamp’s, so he was kinda thrilled but I wasn’t.

What is it? My muscles? My beard (now?) or my kicks or inhuman good looks? When I asked them, the same people who spoke in broken English for me to follow them into the room for a ‘random’ strip search, they reply, “No English.”

I had a funny feeling this would be nothing compared to what was in store for me in the USA and you know what, I was absolutely right…

They say you only truly hate the ones you love. Anyone who knows me knows I’m obsessed with the USA, have been since I was kid. Through their TV and movies I became a Yankee wannabe. Some people still think Rogan Richards is American mainly due to my adopted style. So it’s no surprise that the country I’m most in love with causes me the most grief.

I arrive and tell the guy who has my passport in one hand and my future in the other that I am in town for IML. That’s not a lie. The guy says I need to come with him and takes me into the U.S Customs and Border Protection room and I get seated with all the other ethic people who I guess Americans think look dodgy. No white folk here guys! Like a bus trip in LA.

After an extended time I’m brought into an interview room by one of the blokes with large toy looking belts with over sized guns and batons. He sits me down and starts to ask me some questions. Admittedly I find myself having a man-crush on this officer. In fact there’s several large built officers walking around that are hot and…. Wait, stop thinking with my cock, and get back on track. One of the questions is, “Do you also go by the name, Richards, Rogan?”

I pause, a guilty smile sneaking up on my face. Busted. There’s no hiding this. Multi-media has made sure of that. I say yes. He then asks, “Are you planning to do a show in NYC in June?” To which I also reply yes. I’m fucked.

I don’t have an entertainers VISA. When I looked into VISA’s several years ago there were none that I could apply for that accepted anything within the adult industry as an acceptable profession to apply for. So I had so far been doing what I do while travelling on a Tourist VISA.

Somehow NYC had black listed my name stating that I had been working in the country under the name of Rogan Richards without the proper paperwork. The guy tells me they have looked at my TUMBLR and he has to speak to his supervisor and get back to me. I’m sent to sit out in the waiting area again for another extended time period. I’ve been up for almost a day by now.

I get called back in and told I won’t be allowed into the country. I have the choice to revoke my application to enter and they will kindly put me on a plane, sending me back the way I came, where I can apply for the proper paperwork and try again. Or if I refuse to revoke it they will deport me and I will never be allowed back in the country. He asks me which I would like to do? The answer is pretty FKIN simple to me. I ask him if he liked my TUMBLR and he smiles saying yes, “They liked it, there are some professional photos on there.” I get told to go back into the waiting room. For a split second I consider doing the bend and snap and seeing if that gets me out of this situation but think better of it.

They cant get me on a flight back to Spain that day and say I have to spend the night there and they will get me on a flight in the morning. I’m A OK with that I just want to sleep. FK could I be more wrong!

They take everything I posses off me including my hoodie and shoes then walk me into a room and lock the door behind me. I look around me at what looks like a set from the “Saw” franchise. There is a row of large plastic chairs lining one side of the wall, the kind of chairs you have when you don’t want anyone sitting around for too long. The walls and ceiling are stark white. There’s two double bunk beds each with green plastic mats to sleep on, the kind that they use in gay saunas for easy clean up. There’s a small blanket that would cover a midget and 2 plastic sheets. No FKIN pillows! There’s a stainless steel bathroom attached to the room with a basin, toilet and roll of toilet paper. This is the kind of place you kill someone. And to top it all off a nice mega bright neon light that is gonna blare into my face the entire night.

By now I have a massive headache from sleep depravation and I’m so uncomfortable. I eventually figure out how to sleep. I take my pants off. It seems all good things come from doing this! I use my pants as a pillow, throw the plastic sheets over me for warmth and use the pathetic, come on guys – you are FKIN kidding me blanket they have provided to cover my eyes from the blaring neon light.

And I sleep. Kind off. Well, as best as I can. At about 7.30am I decide sitting in the waiting room with the ethnic world representatives would be better than this and knock on the door.

I ask the most appropriate question first, what time is my flight this morning? The lady, in a very sympathetic voice says 4pm that day. I stare at her. She asks if she can get me anything? I ask to be allowed to go into the waiting room. (I’ve had enough of being treated like a sub-human piece of shit thank you.) In a super nice all-American way she tells me I’m not allowed out and have to wait in the cell till my flight. They kinda forgot to tell me that the night before. Funny that.

So I went back and lied down.

I should mention that they had been feeding me by providing me with water and sandwiches. They were all super all-American nice to me, it was a real head fuck, the juxtaposition of the way they were acting and what they were doing to me.

Finally 330pm comes along and a guy opens my door, only a crack, like I’m gonna try and run for it or something?  He asks if I had a continuing tix home from Spain as they may send me back to the USA if I don’t.


I say no and the guy leaves saying they’ll figure it out. I’m left starting at the white walls for another hour until a bunch of other guys come to get me. One of them I noticed the day before, he has this Chris O’Donnell sex appeal to him and blood returns down stairs. My cock is as stubborn as I am I guess. I ask about the Spain situation. As much as I want out of the FKIN cell the last ting I want is for Spain to send me back to the USA.

They kinda shrug and take me to an elevator that leads outside the airport and I’m ushered to an armoured truck. I’m flattered that they are escorting me in something that one would use for the Hulk but I ask if this is a little dramatic. They say all the normal cars are in repairs. I prefer the idea that they’re transporting a MSCL BEAST and are taking severe precautions.

They drive me to the plane and take me up some stairs and back inside the airport where the airline workers at the desk greet me. One is super friendly and keeps staring at my arms and asks if I have a carry on flight from Spain to anywhere else. Once again they are worried that Spain will send me straight back to the USA. It’s making me nervous. When I say no he takes my credit card and buys me a flight to Casablanca. (?) He returns my card and tells me once in Spain go straight up to Air America and get a refund on the flight. Well, he tells my arms this.

Finally its time to board the plane and I have to say bye to Chris O’Donnell. I almost wanna use my line, “I’m not hard to find, google me.” but realises they already have. They give my passport to a flight attendant and tell me I will get it back either during the flight or after landing.

The worst thing about this entire experience, that had now spanned 3 days with no shower, minimal sleep and though they fed me not the kind of food and quantity I’m used too, is the aspect of not knowing anything. Though they spoke to me there was never a time when I actually knew what the fuck was about to happen to me after any given moment. Now that I was leaving America what was gonna happen in Spain? Would I go through the same experience minus English? Would they send me back to the USA or usher me on to  Australia and why the fuck did Kylie release, “I Was Gonna Cancel” as her new single and what’s with that accompanying video?

We land in Spain and I walk off the plane to find 2 security guards waiting for me. One steps aside with me and asks what happened in the USA and I tell him. He nods passes me my VISA and says, “ You’re fine here in Spain.” 2 minutes. I’ve never felt so anti AMERICA and pro EU!

And next time I travel I’ll buy a book! At least I could have read something in that mutha FKIN cell.

Why have I written this long winded story for you to read? Well, you could say it’s my obsessive compulsion that I think everyone wants to know all about my life and everything that happens to me. You could say that there’s a lot of people wondering why I’m not at IML wearing Eagle Leather, a cock ring and my yellow Adidas kicks fucking a bunch of random hairy muscle blokes.  You could say that I share these stories so that when other people find themselves in a similar situation they are better prepared and know what is or could happen to them. Any would be correct.

So what now? Where does that leave me and my intended plan of attack for world domination 2014? Well, if you know me you know I’m a stubborn son of a curry muncher and don’t take no for an answer without a fight. I need to look into how I might try to get my rock hard semi-hairy muscle ass back into the USA. In the mean time I have the whole of EU to conquer. And though admittedly it has never been my main target I think there’s a lot of opportunity here…

But what ever I do next you all know it will be worth watching…


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People are always messaging me on all my social media platforms asking me what music am I into? and what artists are my fav? Music plays a massive part of my life. I always have music playing, as I type this right now, when I’m driving, especially when I’m working out! When I’m writing, fucking or hanging out at home. (The only time I don’t have music on is when I’m editing cause I need to hear the audio tracks of what I’m editing.)

So here, in no order is a collection of who I would consider to be my ALL TIME FAV musical artists that have and do continue to influence me and my life.


I was under-age and very nervous, my cousins had drawn a moustache on me and dressed me in over-sized clothes and dragged me out clubbing with them. Remember I was a very different person as a teen, shy and socially awkward so sneaking into nightclubs was extremely nerve racking and exciting all at once! Paula Abdul’s Straight Up was playing at every club we got into and on the TV screens. The only artist that came close to replacing Madonna on my top spot as a teen.


Hate him or love him, Kanye is one of the most creative, ingenious musicians of our generation and has transformed the face or R’n’B/Rap/Pop. He also taught me so much in terms of creating a brand and a legacy from nothing but will power and the manipulation of words, images and bullshitting. Something I apply to my life and my career everyday. Like that Kevin Coster film, “Build it and they will come.” Kanye taught me, “Show them and they will follow.” (It kinda helps to be super talented as well, really good looking and NOT a douche bag.)


Daft Punk would be, hands down, my all time fav Electronic band. Even though Discovery was frowned upon by many of their hard core fans as being too commercial, it’s for this very same reason it’s my fav album of theirs. Absolute 80s pop-electro brilliance! Add to that a feature length animated film that played out to every single on the album (yes, Yonce` fans, the Daft did it years before her!) and what some of you hard core fans of mine would know if i wasn’t doing the career I am the other career path I wanted as a youngster was that of a 2D animator, so I was obsessed with animated films and cartoons growing up. So when they did this film I creamed my pants!




My 2nd fav Electronic band, CHROMEO got my attention with this song and their 80s inspired sound has had me transfixed ever since! (Other electro bands that are note worthy that didn’t make this list are Justice, Tesla Boy, Futurecop! Zoot Woman and Grum.)


Kylie’s very first album was actually the VERY first album I ever bought! (Cindy Lauper’s, Hole In My Heart was my first 45″) Kylie is probably one of the most underrated artists, if you just google the photoshoots and music she has done you find such an amazing, inspiring, vast and eclectic amount of artistic collaborations, risks and accomplishments. I FKIN LOV this woman!


I went through a MASSIVE metal/rock/emo phase where all I swore by was alternate music and these genres. It was during the late 90s when I wouldn’t listen to pop at all (besides Madonna and Kylie) and my obsession spanned a decade. Recently I have stopped listening to these genres, only revisiting certain bands now and then. (Some noteworthy bands that I swore by were Amity Affliction, Chiodos, and Trapt.) but I have and will always be a hard core TOOL fan since a mate at the time introduced me to them with  this song.


I still maintain that Martika’s debut album is one of the best pop albums EVER and holds up to this day. I used to know every word AND move from the music video, “I Feel The Earth Move”. I even think her come back song “Go With the Flow” is SO FKIN BAD it’s FKIN AMAZING!!!


I had to post her latest single which I think is one of the smartest and addictive R’n’B/pop songs to come out in ages. I FKIN LOV this song and the ANTI album. I totally understand why both are taking awhile for the public to warm too but seeming she just scored her 14th number one making her the 3rd best selling artist of all time, I guess I’m not that far off the mark. (I feel really bad that I’m not including Janet Jackson in this list, especially since her song “Pleasure Principle” is one of my all time FAV R’n’B/pop songs but… oh well. Other noteworthy artists are Chris Brown, Tinashe and Iggy Azalea.)


OK, this is probably one that no one saw coming! Can you believe Take That was the only band that I owned EVERY single, B-side, album and rarity hat was released on CD. They weren’t big in Australia till “Back For Good” so I had to import every FKIN thing I wanted. I was into them around the time I was coming out and they were the soundtrack to my new-found sexuality and exploration and I totally wanted to fuck each and every one of them at one point!


Do I even need to say anything?