B.A. Johnston's new Bell Fibe TV series "HamJam" promises to do for Hamilton what "Letterkenny" did for Listowel.

This statement may seem outrageous. The farming community of Listowel, after all, has very little in common with Hamilton. Come to think of it, "HamJam" doesn't have a lot in common with "Letterkenny," either.

But that's beside the point.

The key thing to remember is that "Letterkenny" started out as a bizarre low-budget YouTube series — hilarious in a sort of gross way — that graduated to the Crave streaming service, the Comedy Network and Hulu in the United States. It's about a fictional town very much like creator Jared Keeso's hometown of Listowel.

"HamJam" is also low-budget, hilarious in a gross sort of way, and based around creator B.A. Johnston's hometown of Hamilton. He has six episodes in the can — two on the city's sub culture (as in submarine sandwiches), one on steel, one on waterfalls, one on our lost video arcades and another on a disputed occurrence that may or may not have happened during a visit to Hamilton by actor Christian Slater.

"I wanted to tell stories about the city," Johnston says. "I feel the way Hamilton is seen now and the way it is marketed has changed a lot. I just wanted to show stuff that goes against the 'Hamilton is the new Brooklyn' developer push. It's the Hamilton you can't sell."

With a little luck, "HamJam" could become a cult favourite, like "Letterkenny." It will be available to Bell cable subscribersMarch 5 before being posted YouTube in April.

If you don't hang around seedy clubs, you probably aren't aware of B.A. Johnston.

He's a 44-year-old comedian who celebrates his love for Hamilton through some very peculiar songs that tend to focus on junk food, '80s TV shows, Cap'n Crunch cereal, deep-fat fryers and all things Oskeeweewee. Hipsters, skinny jeans and green tea are not welcome.

He's recorded more than a dozen albums in the past 15 years. His latest — "The Skid is Hot Tonight" — has just been released and is available on vinyl, CD and cassette tape. (Johnston is holding a release party March 16 at This Ain't Hollywood).

He performs his sweat-spewing act in taverns of questionable character across the nation and is currently on a 35-city tour that includes eight dates in the United Kingdom.

So how did an overly whiskered barroom comedian elevate his act to the Bell Fibe network?

"I think their standards are very low and they're desperate for content," explains Johnston with a chuckle.

We've tracked down Johnston at the St. John's International Airport in Newfoundland where he's booked to perform two shows at a popular pub called The Ship.

He's in a painfully long security lineup and just dropped the salami sandwich he had packed, forcing him to consider a stop at a nearby A&W. Even Johnston won't eat a sandwich that has made contact with an airport floor.

"They just emailed me," continues Johnston in a more serious tone, trying to explain why the corporate honchos at Bell Fibe would bankroll his home movies. "Then we had a business meeting about it at the Sheraton."

The first-two episodes — on Hamilton's sub-culture — will be compelling to anyone who has ever had a hankering for an assorted foot-long, white bread dripping in oil and chopped head lettuce spilling out the side.

Johnston believes Hamilton's sub-culture is unique.

Every city and town in North America has a Subway or a Mr. Sub anchoring a strip mall, but Hamilton's proliferation of mom-and-popsub shops is unrivalled.

Johnston discovered this sub-culture as a child, growing up in west Hamilton, in a little shop on Dundurn Street called Murphy's, or Murph's to regulars.

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It was a place that was more about Murph than the subs. Every Murph fan has a story, whether about the team pictures on the wall or the cigarette dangling precariously from the proprietor's lips.

Murph knew everyone and everyone loved Murph. If you couldn't afford a sub, you got one anyway.

Murph's closed a few years back and Johnston has been pining for a replacement ever since. So the first two episodes focus on his search.

It takes him to several Hamilton neighbourhood sub shops and, eventually, to the living room of Murphy's home where the two exchange hugs like long-lost relatives.

"I could have done six episodes on subs," Johnston says, as the airport security line inches along. "It's a pretty big worm hole. People are very passionate about that. Strong opinions."

Before the security lineup reaches its conclusion, more questions have to be asked. B.A., how can you afford to fly to Newfoundland for just two shows?

"They buy a lot of merch," Johnston explains. "That's where you make your money. I have no (personal) clothes in my bag. It's crammed with B.A. Johnston T-shirts, patches and records."

But, B.A., surely there's got to be a larger plan? You can't live in your mother's basement forever.

"My business plan is to throw as much at the wall as possible and hopefully one will stick," he says.

"I've also got a kid's book deal. I just got a contract mailed to me. It's a real publisher in the Maritimes, Nimbus."

Oh, dear. A B.A. Johnston children's book?

"Yeah, I wrote a story about a seagull who tries to steal a kid's lunch. The guy who sells my T-shirts is going to illustrate it."

grockingham@thespec.com

905-526-3331 | @RockatTheSpec