Flyering, like it or lump it

Here's a picture of Mikey Mileos and some of the guys out there in front of the Melbourne Town Hall flyering their arses off. I've seen this process from both sides (not as a comedian, in another job). It is a confronting process, actually getting out there on the street and selling yourself to the punters. It can be hard on the ego. From the audience's stand point it can be kind of interesting. Comedians will go to all kinds of stunts to get you to notice them and their show. Some of my favourites were blow-up penguins, give away condoms and this year, a guy who dressed up as the grim reaper. Someone you don't want to meet out there on the street. If all else fails there is always the black board, updated every day, that tells people who cluster outside the M.T.H. what time the festival shows are on that night.

Funky Federation Square

During the Festival Federation Square becomes a veritable city of entertainment with a show ground feel. Mobile carnival tents like the Bosco and the Casca Deur are errected to house many of the Festival shows. It gives a whole festive atmosphere to the event. I even went on the ferris wheel.

G.N.W. Revisited (How I loath acronymns!)

1. By day four things started to get a little bleery. Was it because some of Melbourne's older theatres were built for migets and my legs hurt like hell or because Good News Week has a policy of filling the set with smoke? You be the judge.
   
   Yeah I know the digital age means G.N.W. have to find canny ways to control their image. But smoke inhalation is a dangerous thing. It used to be that you could take dozens of nice clear photos, even when the talent were running around the stage like rabbits. Sadly, those days are gone.
   
   There was a moment when I was peering through the mist when I seriously thought "am I going to get a good look at this show at all?" the haze was so thick.
   
   

Good thing you get to watch the "best bits" on TV (What an interesting idea! -- What would the show be like if they let a whole lot of G.N.W. groupies loose in their editing booth? -- Probably not a product sellable to Channel Ten).

Was Paul a cinema ticket seller or was he a gay Davros? He "went down on" Jason Byrne as part of "so you think you can mime"segment. One thing was for certain he's a spitter not a swallower, which may or may not be "Good News" for Jason Byrne (I think he's straight).

The Best Night of the Festival?

Day Three continued. There is always a point during the festival that I feel "if I ever see another comedian, I'm going to kill someone; or myself". Friday was not that time. Fiona O'Loughlin had chosen the crowd pleaser option of doing "the best of her hits". She was great, I was just sorry that I wasn't sitting closer so that I could shout out my request. Another little surprise: she had her daughter Brigid get up and open for her (she's pretty funny) and there was a fleeting moment when I thought "Fiona's looking good!".

Jamie Killstein (from New York) was excellent. A real breath of fresh air. He did political and racial humour in a way that wasn't heavy handed and pontificating. As Burt Newton would say "I like the boy".

The best of the three shows for the night, for me, was Nick Sun's show. It was a real eye opener. You always have that worry when you go to a mate's show that they will be crap and you'll have to bullshit them afterwards. But his show was amazingly tight (how like him is that?) It was a good thing too because the festival director Susan Provan, was there, and a lot of punters. There was a lot of hugging afterwards, which made me feel very self conscious (what way do I really like Nick Sun?) He was worth $10 and probably a lot more.

Characters on the Mall

What I noticed this year was the wealth of characters down on the Mall. There were musicians, people performing their arses off and people making a splash doing nothing at all. Some of my favourites were: the stone man and the hoola hoop Korean guy [pictured here]. A man playing "Strawberry Fields for ever" on a rickety old piano and a group of south American guitar players who had it all together, complete with a girl selling their CDs.


What with the music flowing around and the general feeling of coolness in the air, it makes the Mall a really place nice to be. I try to imagine people in Sydney standing round watching a guy dressed up as a statue (like the people in the photo, aren't they groovy with the expressions on their faces?) and I have a lot of trouble. They're in too much of a hurry rushing off somewhere else to make money.

Survival List

Day Three. Seriously tired, my eyes are tiny slits. Got to brekkie at 9.30 am but still managed to force down four tiny croissants. So bleary that I managed to misorder tickets. Now I have four tickets for Sunday; back to back. Remember:

1. Toilet breaks and sleeping all have to be factored in.
2. Listen and speak clearly to the nice lady at the ticket office.
3. When ordering tickets at short notice have up to six extra choices in case your first choice is booked out.
4. By the third day at the Comedy Festival you will begin to hear things (Saturday sounds a lot like Sunday).
5. By the fourth day you may want to kill yourself.


This is the brekkie from Riva Cafe, opposite the Causeway Inn on the Mall. It was great, fresh and tasty, complete with slice of Kransky sausage. How appropriate! Ten out of ten for flexibility. I came in a few minutes after they had closed their breakfast orders.

Pathfinder

Day two. The afternoon was breezy and the park was cool. I photographed this sculpture called "the Pathfinder". I had to wait because prior to this, a young guy stradled it, saying "it does have a penis" to his mates (which it does but I didn't photograph it). I couldn't help thinking, "hey buddy, that sounds a bit gay".

As the Kransky's said "what doesn't kill you makes you sick". Ben Lomas was the stand out of Thursday night, for a very wrong reason. In his show he reckons if you look forward to surgery for a break from your daily drudge, you need to get a new job. Otis Lee Crenshaw was great too, but he didn't rock my world; he was just entertainment.

Breakfast of Champions

I was a bit sceptical about the complimentary continental breakfast. I've seen this type of thing before and it wasn't pretty. So much stale buns and stewed coffee. Not so at the Causeway Inn on the Mall. It was all lovely and fresh and very convivial. Each time the waitress would come up and ask us for our room numbers. I asked us why I was signing a docket when I wasn't going to pay. She said people from the street often came in and had a free helping. How enterprising? The other thing that worried me was how much breakfast you were supposed to get. No one really wants to look like a pig in front of strangers. Another question that I couldn't handle was, "just for one?" How much breakfast are you supposed to eat for your $11? (that you didn't pay anyway???!!!).

Alter Egos

The whole time I was on holiday, I had the feeling that I was doing that sliding doors thing with myself. There was this girl at Sydney air port, long blond hair dark rimmed glasses. It was all I could do not to go up to her and say "I'm you in thirty years time". Then there was this woman about my age with the glasses and a camera on the Bourke Street Mall. I couldn't resist, I said "you're me in about ten minutes time". She laughed, bless her. Hannah Gadsby looks a bit like I did at her age (scary and with glasses) but she won Raw Comedy and I did it five times without success. Where did I go wrong?

Virgin Virgin

I had a lovely Asian cab driver (with a sense of humour) drive me to the air port this time. He laughed at my joke about my flying Virgin being the last straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't really funny, all those people loosing their jobs. He said that Qantas probably made their mind to sack all those people ages ago, so I felt better. Actually I must have been feeling pretty good to start with because when the check in woman did the big put down I thought she was being nice. What is it about people like that? (When I was a ticket seller was I that much of a bitch?) She said "where are you going?" and I thought she said "how are you going?" I must have been expecting everything to be going my way.

Down to earth at the Melbourne Comedy Festival

Day one. Well I'm here at last. Sure I've already alienated the ticket sellers at Ticketmaster. Who knew double booking could cause so much fuss. The whole day I've been convinced that everything was going my way. Sometimes you get it wrong. I've seen a terrific show by the Delusionists with a great story. The end of the world has come but sex, love, laughs and horticulture still go on. I loved it. And I love this Apple computer you can do a lot of cute things. Like this photo thing down at the bottom of the computer screen. It's a good thing this is a public place or I'd have photographed my breasts (and that wouldn't be pretty, trust me).

What to read on the plane

Let's face it you never read anything on the plane. Your mind just won't do it. Too much to grab your attention. The book shops at the airport tempt you with all sorts of literary horrors that try to get you in with stories of sex and self improvement. I think you gain your own enlightenment along the way. My regime of ruthless under packing this time sees me packing only one book. No not the Bible but very close. It's Anthony Trollop's The Barchester Chronicles, quite a laugh (in its own way), from the era of the horse and cart.

Air ports in holding pattern

I get a dull feeling waiting around at the airport. Kind of suppressed histeria. Anecdotes? Where do I start? There was the one I've told a lot of times (heavily imbellished) about the security guard at Melbourne airport. She said "you look nervous" as she scanned my bag for drugs. I had left my bag with the consierge at the hotel and he was a bit dodgy. There could have been anything in there. The good story was running into James O'loglin on the way home from Melbourne, one time. He thought I was going to button hole him and took a pair of earphones, just in case. I got a seat miles away from him on the plane. The lady I sat next to had never heard of him.

Packing up blues

The big mistake that people always make when they go away on holiday is they over pack. I was walking behind these travellers at Central, the other day. Just because you can pull two large wheel on suitcases while carrying a back pack, doesn't mean you should. For God's sake control yourself!!! Top this with the almost certain fact that you will want to buy stuff when you are in Melbourne and you over pack at your peril. It can be a nightmare. I remember dragging my swollen suitcase and back pack across Los Angeles air port; twice. It isn't a memory I relish. This is my relative success this time. I don't know why I'm including this photo; maybe its because I want to show you my underpants.

My Ritualistic Friend

In my copy of his book Naked David Sedaris has written "To Sue, my ritualistic friend". But he doesn't know the half of it. Sure, I don't tap objects or lick them with my tongue but I have been considering photographing all the "problem areas" in my house prior to leaving on my comedy festival vacation. When I go out of the house, even for a short time, I'm driven into some sort of panic that I will fail to notice not having turned off some important electrical appliance. Mr Sedaris tells a story of how his sister writes lists for him of which appliances he has to turn off whenever he's alone in her house. I think this is where the problem starts. For every ritualistic person there is a person near to them who had no faith. David buddy, we both have to forgive them (and ourselves) and move on.

It takes a lot of work

I watched this video of Jim Carey doing stand up back in 1991. There was a lot of dancing and singing and Jim grimacing fit to beat the band. He's a guy who believes in really working hard. The clever thing is he makes it look ridiculously easy. Every word, every facial gesture simply screams funny. It really makes me feel as jealous as hell. I look at my laboured scribblings and think back to my five minutes and think where does Jim get all his energy from? Don't get me wrong I love doing stand-up. It's the most fun you can have; standing up (with your clothes on). But every time you go out there it's a lot of work. Writing, learning, thinking about what you're going to say. The only thing that is easy is that five minutes with the mike. And who the hell can afford dancing letters?