Nine days and counting

I am so excited about the looming festival. I try to act all casual and disaffected just the way any aspiring underwhelmed hipster would but fail miserably, every time. All it takes is a whisper of "mmm...I might go" and I pounce, cat-like, head-first and usually rudely, into the conversation. "Oh. Hey...", I say while nonchalantly tucking my hair behind my ears. "You guys talking about the festival?", I continue, astounding my prey with my totally aloof coolness. What usually comes next is a confused, if not judgemental explanation that no, they are not talking about 'the festival' (whatever that is, insert eye rolls here) and are, in fact, talking about the newest ironic kitsch art exhibition featuring photos of emancipated men in sprayed-on jeans clutching crocheted tea cosys. It's being held in this new underground, above basement, converted slaughterhouse bar. I give them a big 'pffft', perhaps a flick of the double bird and swagger off, feeling pity for those who clearly have leagues to travel to reach my level of urban radness and comedy appreciation.


I then go home via the bus to sit in my parent's study on the single bed I had when I was twelve and mooch internet, and general good will, off them. If I can't have a room, house, car life of my own then I can at least have comedy. That's the saying, right? 


I know what you're thinking: 'enough about you, we're all getting jealous.' Alright, alright, I'll stop rubbing my enviably fantastic world in your snotty little face and tell you the shows I am particularly excited about. Trumpet sounds. In no particular (alphabetical) order:

• Claudia O'Doherty, What is soil erosion?  Her last show, Monster of the Deep 3D was like swimming in a bath full of glitter: initially confusing but ultimately a very fun, worthwhile experience.
• Daniel Kitson, The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church Daniel Kitson is God full stop
• Dave Callan, 0+ I don't know whether it's his voice, or his hairy chest or his voice but this man makes me laugh at traditional standup in ways that I thought traditional standup could never make me laugh. Plus he has an accenty voice.
• Dr Brown, Because My 100% all time good party time always and infinitely favourite performer of the 2010 festival would make my giddy if he ever looked me in the eye. And then said "I love you". This is the amount of famous-person love I hold for him that (a) I have even imagined this scenario and (b) I would vomit from excitement if it ever happened. Please don't tell him I said this.
• Fear of a Brown Planet Attacks  I like these guys a lot. Good political comedy, poking fun at world leaders, irrelevant senators and former leaders and...oh wait...oh now you're pointing out how racist Australians are. Oh hahaha. I hate those racist bogans too!...oh...nope...definitely pointing out what's wrong with my inner-city-leftist-politically-correct hogwash. I'll just have a sit and a giggle and be silently amazed at how much righter you are than me.
• Mathew Kenneally and the Great Escape This guy should be really famous. But for that to happen Australians would firstly have to care, secondly be informed and thirdly be informed and care enough to laugh about the caring and the information. And they would have to want to pay money to see political comedy. 
• Sammy J & Randy in Bin Night Last year I left their show, Sammy J & Randy in Rickett's Lane, full and satisfied. They're like a TV show you want to quote to everyone afterwards but you realise half way through the 'joke' that actually it's more of a story and probably, might just a little bit require you to tell some backstory. Sharing the fun inevitably means you stumble all over your words and say things like "Oh! It was just so funny, they were playing chess, but it wasn't chess...you know when you make up rules to games, and it like, simultaneously makes the game more easier 'cause the rules were always developed by one person to win more points but then there are so many that it's actually harder? Anyway, so there's this game...". This is exhausting and in no way entertaining for the listener. Which is why you should just see them live for yourself. They're cleverer and better at saying things than me. 

I could keep going forever but it's my bed time (read: past my parent's bed time and they say the 'clacking' of the keys keeps them up in the next room). 'Til the festival, if not before. 

Yours faithfully, 

-RAD