Nothing says 'celebrating a Comedy Festival' like a plate of Bavarian meat

‘And now, the end is near; and so I face, the final curtain…’ Ol’ Blue Eyes sang that and I’m sure he’s up in heaven now, watching me write the above and thinking to himself, ‘What in God’s name is a blog?’

This is the last blog entry, sports fans, and I have no idea if anyone has read this. However, over these last few weeks I’m happy I got to a) purge my comedy stories, and b) work on my touch typing. I’m almost making myself semi-employable. God forbid…

So 2012 is drawing to an end (Editor’s note: Must show Dave where April falls in the calendar year…) and according to the Mayans this will be the last year. On the other hand, my car repayments are scheduled for another two years, so it could go either way. But as the Melbourne International Comedy Festival draws to a close, many people ask what us comedians do afterwards.

Well, first things first. We spend the last weekend of this fine festival enjoying the accomplishments of our last month whilst simultaneously enduring a weekend-long hangover. After that we are released back into the big bad world and try our best to assimilate, where we ask the big questions like ‘What happened while I was in my own world performing? Did I make any money over the last month? What the hell is a “one directioner”?’

For some comedians it’s back to their day jobs. For others it’s more touring. For a small minority it’s even rehab. For this little hobo it’s off to Sydney where I’ll perform at its comedy festival (and where I feel my Bondi jokes will be better received). Later in the year I’m off to Edinburgh to tackle the world’s largest fringe festival…again. In between I’ll be continuing my weekly podcast with fellow comedian Tommy Little, called SlapBang (out every Friday, free on iTunes), and generally making a nuisance of myself on various mediums.

Thanks for reading and, in the immortal words of my father, ‘It’s better to sit there and appear stupid than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.’ Maybe I should have listened to him more.

This is the rockstar lifestyle of a comedian

Many non-comedians (I refer to y’all as ‘civilians’) ask about the comics’ lifestyle and assume we all live like rock stars. Living like a rock star these days means selling your song to Apple for them to play on an iPod commercial or dating a reality TV star. Or both.

In short, no we don’t live like that. Nor do we rock out as much as you might think we do. The Melbourne Comedy Festival runs for a month straight – if we partied every night we’d fall apart (however my publicist assures me the ensuing Ben Cousin’s–esque documentary could be good for my profile).

To be honest, some nights during the week I’m home and hosed a little less than an hour after my show, with a glass of wine and a downloaded copy of Breaking Bad season five (legally downloaded of course: pens down, lawyers).

As with anyone’s job, when the weekend ramps up, so does the partying. Out and about, us comedians tend to hang with other comedians and just like 9–5ers, we bitch and bemoan the shortfalls of our career. The great reprise of our chosen profession is if you choose to go out, you can sleep in knowing that your shift won’t begin until the PM.

If a comedian at the MICF heads out for a rather large night, he or she will invariably end up at the Hi–Fi Bar on Swanston Street. That’s where late night comedy shows are held and upstairs in the bar is where comedians spend their (abundant) time and (minimal) money until the wee hours of the morn.

For most of the month, Hi–Fi is busier than Bourke Street, with more concentrated ‘funny’ per metre than a Vespa carrying a circus full of clowns. Like any work function we laugh with mates, make snide comments behind others’ backs and sometimes display regretful acts on the photocopy machine (the Comedy Festival bought one this year- we’ve all had a go at photocopying our backsides on it).

Oh and in case you though we have groupies – we don’t. The groupies are more concerned that One Direction are in town…

No comment needed for this kind of hilarity

At a music festival there always comes a time when you lose friends because they want to check out a band on another stage, while you refuse to go because you’d rather stab your eyelids with semitrailers than sit through some Latin-polka fusion.

Music festivals usually only have two or three bands to choose from at one time; at a comedy festival the selection is amplified. Who do you go to? Will your mates find it funny? Why is the lump on your buttock getting larger? I can’t help you out with the last question, but I can give you a guiding hand when it comes to the other two.

What I’m going to do now is mention people whom you may not have seen before, or that don’t have a big profile…yet. There’s nothing wrong with going to see people off the telly. I’m just saying that kind of choice is like barracking for Hawthorn because you grew up in the 80s – they’re successful, so you chose them. It’s an easy cop out.

So, in no particular order, here are some locals who are well worth the price of admission*:

Xavier Michelides is the Brain Whisperer. A combination of one-man sketch and stand-up that is so clever and funny it made my neurons laugh. Portland Hotel, corner of Russell St and Lt Collins St, 7.15pm.

Kate McLennan – Homeward Bound. A personal story driven by a wonderful performance. Victoria Hotel, 215 Lt Collins St; 7.15pm.

Tommy Little – A Fistful of Apologies. Young. Talented. Funny. He’ll steal work from me. Arthur’s Bar, 95 Flinders Lane; 9.30pm.

Matt Okine – Being Black & Chicken & S#%t. This guy is from Sydney and it’s well worth checking out his personable stand-up because he’s not here often.Melbourne Town Hall, corner of Swanston St and Collins St; 9:30pm.

Harley Breen – Shape Up. This guy has funny bones and in this year’s show he talks about weight loss and how his bones used to be filled with lard and gravy. Portland Hotel, 8.30pm.

Daniel Townes – Judge Me Smudge Me. Dan’s also from Sydney, so it’s a treat to have him here – guaranteed laughs. Portland Hotel, 9.45pm.

There are also plenty of other talented, funny locals, so take a punt, take a risk. Go on – look windswept and interesting, check out someone you’ve never seen before. When you do, you’ll be more attractive to people whose private parts you want to see.**

*NB: For all these performances, remember no shows on Mondays and all shows start an hour earlier on Sundays.

**Actual people may not become more attracted to you.

*** A third footnote is too much.

Mick Fanning – 2012 Bells Beach surfing champion – with two fans he's trying to get rid of

Every night an audience has an energy to itself. During a comedy festival you get to see the good, the bad and other things all together unique.

The good

In my show I talk of my love of basketball and in particular Michael Jordan, who I had the opportunity to meet last year. I grew up playing b’ball. I didn’t play football because I was afraid I’d get beaten up by the jocks. I didn’t play netball because I was afraid I’d get beaten up by the jocks.

When I mentioned Michael Jordan being my hero, a gentlemen in the third row reacted by nodding vigorously. I enquired if he also admired MJ. Responding with a Middle American drawl he proclaimed, ‘Well I grew up in the town across from Michael and went to university with him.’

This was the equivalent of a junkie finding out his best friend farms poppy seeds. Parts of me were erect I didn’t even know could react that way. How does your belly button get a stiffy? It’s not often you want a room full of people to walk out on your show half way through but in this particular case I just wanted him and I to fan boy the f#%k out of this conversation (which we did at the end of the show).

The bad

On the night of Good Friday I had an interesting reaction to say the least. Fifteen minutes into my one-hour show I looked down and in the front row a woman was asleep. I’ve been known to talk in my sleep but this is the first time I’ve talked in anyone else’s. It’s good to know my comedy is about as exciting as a footballer’s post-match interview. Miss Narcolepsy had to be nudged by her companion to even react to me. It was like she had used my comedy room as a hotel room and if I’m going to be honest, prostitutes not stand-up comedians, usually frequent an hourly hotel room. At least she was being very Easterly – she was resting on Friday and didn’t look like she was going to rise until Sunday.

The unique

Mick Fanning, the pro surfer who won The Bells Classic just a few days earlier, was at a gig I performed at. Wow. How cool is that? I spoke to him for a bit and he was nice enough to stay awake for my entire performance.

These are just some of the random audience members I’ve met at a comedy festival and I’m sure there will be many, many more.

This photo has nothing to do with my blog – I just saw it the other day and found it funny

Having participated in a few festivals around the globe, dispersing mirth and a hefty part of my bank account, I’ve gained some interesting stories and, let’s be honest, frequent flyer points. As much as I know you’d LOVE for me to gloat about my frequent flyer points total, I think a story will be better served in this blog.

I remember at the Edinburgh Fringe festival a few years ago, I met a really cool UK-based impersonator by the name of Anil Desai. Anil’s shows constitute a plethora of impersonations, among them Donald Trump, which is frighteningly lifelike (and that’s not easy because Donald himself is not at all lifelike).

We performed in the same precinct – my show started across a hallway 15 minutes before his. We met in the first few days of the month-long festival while flyering and found camaraderie in our begging. Three weeks into the festival I would hear the same story on repeat from Anil – he would have healthy pre-bookings but when he walked on stage there would be 10-or-so less than his ticket sales indicated.

Night after night this would happen, until it finally dawned on me. When the front of house staff would proclaim ‘comedy show about start, get your tickets ready’, they were referring to my show. Like a heard of sheep, people with a ticket would then get in line. No one was caring that they had tickets for the show on 15 minutes after me. These people would then sit in my show. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Anil is from subcontinent heritage, medium height with dark hair and brown skin. I’m tall, lanky, blue-eyed, white and built like a paper clip.

At first these audience members would think, ‘wow, this impersonator has really gone for it this time – he looks nothing like that guy on the poster?!?!?’ After 40 minutes-or-so I think that initial awe would have given way to the idea that ‘OK this ‘Impersonator’ (note: sarcastic air quotes would be in place here) has got the gangly Aussie moron down pat but when is he going to give us something else?’

At least that’s what I blame for not getting a lot laughs, and the heckles of ‘Do Arnie?!?!’

Many people ask me ‘what’s a podcast?’ (That and ‘why does a 32-year-old man use the phrase amazeballs?’)

For comedians, podcasts are just as common as self-loathing. They are invariably half an hour to an hour of audio jokes, anecdotes and tall stories you can download off the Internet and listen to on your iPod or, if you’re from 2001, your iRiver.

Usually uncensored and quite often unscripted these little iTunes iRadioShows have gained momentum with the general public and now there’s a podcast for every interest. You don’t have to put up with ad breaks, nauseating banal commercial conversations or bad product endorsements – the kind of stuff that gives you a headache only Panadol Active can fight. Fast.

During the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, many stand-up comedians are recording their podcasts live at venues and this one was no exception. More than 200 people came out to witness an hour of their beloved hosts talking, interviewing comics and generally ribbing each other with the use of some very flowery language. I highly recommend catching one of these live and in 3-D.

While you’re at it, why don’t you start downloading a podcast off the interweb? I recommend TOFOP, Wil Anderson’s podcast with Charlie Clausen, and The Little Dum Dum club with Karl Chandler and Tommy Dassallo.

What’s that? Do I have one? Well, shucks. Thanks for asking. It’s called ‘SlapBang’ and I do it with Tommy Little. It comes out every Friday and you can get it off iTunes. Do it. NOW! *starts to hyperventilate and gives off a thousand-yard stare*

Oh, and while I think of it, reviews are starting to ooze out during in the first full week of the Comedy Festival. Comedians are the only people who get a work appraisal three days into their job. I was lucky enough to gain a review from The Herald Sun, which described me as ‘tall and pointy with pencil legs’. It’s good to know that if comedy doesn’t work out I could be a model for male toilet-door signs.

Blog you next time, kids.

Me with the largest coffee I could find to get me through the month

Opening night of a live show is like opening anything else: an envelope, a new store or even an awkward jar of lube just before you’re about to [Editor's note: word censored] – you’re excited about what’s about to happen.

Last night I ‘opened’ my stand-up show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival (MICF for short, or ‘that time when people actually give a crap about comedians’, for the laymen). My 63-year-old mum decided to come up from Geelong with my brother and two of her friends. To hear her youngest son swear and talk blue on and off for an entire hour must make her proud of the tertiary education she helped pay for.

I was a little worried about the audience because earlier in the week I’d been interviewed by The Age newspaper and commented that I didn’t want people tweeting or recording my jokes from my live show because it could ruin the surprise for other people who wanted to come (NB: on the record I like Twitter and think social networks are great; just don’t ruin the surprise for other people is all I’m saying). The backlash was palpable.

I thought some tweeter might be in the show. I was worried that #thorntonshowisrubbish would start trending. It never eventuated. Maybe the haters spent their time looking up Kony on YouTube.

Like an insolent stepchild, vitriolic tweeters don’t like getting told what to do. Yet, just like Australian Idol winners, if you ignore them they’ll eventually go away.

My show this year talks about, among other things, my brother’s Asperger’s syndrome diagnosis. The cool thing was that there were a few families that came along who had a member of their family with Asperger’s. Afterwards, two different families commented on how much fun it was to laugh along with material about Asperger’s.

Sometimes comics get a bad wrap for being negative and ‘going too far’ (and don’t get me wrong, there’s still room for wailing on Kyle Sandilands); however, it’s good to know we can also be positive.

So there it was – one show down and 22 to go. Wow, at the end of this month I’ll have actually worked a full 24-hour day…stretched over an entire month.

Me at the cafe, blogging; using the sepia-tone effect because that's the only fancy treatment I know

I’m now an official blogger. I wonder if I have to get registered? Maybe I need to get tagged…or branded?

Sorry, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. My name is Dave Thornton. I’m a stand-up comedian and for the next month I’ll be blogging my musings, experiences and pseudo-humorous jokes about the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.

Now you’re thinking: ‘what makes you a qualified blogger MR Thornton?’ OK, a) No need to use capitals in an aggressive manner, person-I-made-up; and b) I’m a comedian, an attention-seeker and a person who stands on a soapbox for an hour a night, so blogging is just another way to gain the attention I so desperately seek.

Blogging license approved.

Sorry, what’s that? Yeah, I’ve got a show on at the festival, thanks for asking. It’s called ‘The Some of All the Parts’. The show revolves entirely around an experience I had last year when I had to stand in front of a class of 12-year-olds and tried to inspire them. How do you inspire 12-year-olds? What do they care about inspiration? I felt like crossing out my entire CV and replacing it with ‘Quiddich champion’.

I’ve also got a nice review quote on my poster that’s taken from The Scotsman newspaper in the UK. It reads: ‘Don’t miss this’, followed by four stars. I initially thought that read quite well. Then after printing a thousand copies I realised having that particular quote followed by four stars doesn’t so much look like a four-star review, but more like the stars are filling in for a four-letter word that you can’t print on a poster: ‘Don’t miss this (#@%’. Great start to the festival, Thorno.

So, twice a week for the next four weeks, I’ll be QWERTYing my way through the Comedy Festival. Drop by, stay a while. Let’s get our blog on.

The Greenhouse by Joost was one of the most eagerly anticipated events of the festival and the finished project did not disappoint.

Covered in hundreds of pots of strawberry plants, the temporary plywood structure stood out as a temple to all things eco-friendly.

The cups and plates were terracotta, and the cutlery was made from plantation timber, which was composted after the meal (along with all the other organic waste).

The menu was based on seasonal and locally available food, including the herbs growing on the roof and the coffee (very important to Melburnians), which was of course organic, fair-trade and sourced from a Melbourne-based company.

Even the furniture and floor coverings were made from reclaimed material, reducing the venue’s overall carbon footprint.

Although it was only temporary, Joost may well have created a template for dining in a low-carbon world.

 

The sun is out,
the sky is blue.
It’s Moomba time,
see you there too! 

The phrase, ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same,’ seems to sum up the annual Moomba Festival perfectly.

Every year there is something new and every year the old favourites transport you back to the Moomba Festivals you went to as a kid.

This year’s new angle will see Monday’s Moomba Parade change direction and take a new route to the Moomba Festival site along St Kilda Road, starting at the Shrine of Remembrance.

But perennial favourites like the Birdman Rally, the Moomba Masters waterskiing and the fireworks will be on show in all their gaudy, glam glory.

On Friday afternoon the stage was already set for fabulous weekend of Moomba Festival fun. Check out these pics to whet your appetite!

The best view in town

Trapeze lessons for beginners

Carnival favourites

Waterskiing action on the Yarra