My Hyperreality

So I’ve recently become part of a very elite group of society: The Watchers of Stand Up Comedy. We of the WoSUC sit around, observing and judging while other, braver, people get up on stage and perform shticks in an effort to get a few laughs, or maybe just some love. But not the dirty, sticky kind of love where afterwards even soaking in bleach doesn’t make you feel clean. How does the saying go? If you can’t do, teach. If you’re not interested in teaching (or banned due to a court order over incident with a Santa Claus costume and a blowtorch that got blown completely out of proportion), critique! Or in this case, criticise. Which is a lot like critiquing, but much more spiteful. Well, it is in my case, anyways.

Yes indeedy, I’m slowly dipping my feet into Perth’s Comedy scene. The water’s lukewarm, and I’m not too worried about leeches. Who knows, soon I might be swimming in it! Laughing it up every night of the week!

For the last few weeks I’ve been heading over to Lazy Susan’s on Tuesday’s (upstairs at The Brisbane) to watch new stand up material. It’s safe to say that a lot of this stuff is very obviously new material - unpolished and often unfunny. A few acts have had me drifting off to think about what laundry I can get away with leaving for another few days, and what needs to be done urgently. But through the mire of poo, race and work related jokes (seriously, how is “I’m the guy who stands up at every office meeting and says ‘Let’s reinvent the wheel!’” supposed to be funny?) shine some real gems of hilarity. There are even some comedians who are consistently hilarious while constantly providing new material!

One example of this is Michael Workman, who, for the three sessions that I have seen him, has always had plenty of new stuff that tickles my funny bone.

We’re married. We had a simple ceremony in his apartment at night. It was beautiful. Although I was a bit disappointed with his vows - they sounded an awful lot like snores. And the priest! Talk about sensitive. Some people pay to be knocked out and tied up. I can’t wait for our babies. They will be hilarious. I will know when I am pregnant because I will suddenly begin laughing at my stomach.

And now that the creepy stalker portion of this post is over with, let me tell you a bit about the other comedy night that I’ve been to. Lauren and I went two weeks ago to the second ever Chuckle’s Comedy Night at the Elephant and the Wheelbarrow. The location matches everything that my heart says a comedy club should be - a small stage in front of several tables, and while there weren’t fun little candles for atmosphere, there were drinks and bar food.

The concept driving Chuckle’s is interesting - a competition between the stand-ups is judged by audience members who hold up a placard for as long as they are entertained. When all placards are down, the comedian is chased off stage with fire and pitchforks and tar and feathers. Or maybe are just courteously asked to leave. If the comedian can make it to five minutes, they go into the running for a fabulous prize! $100 worth of candied ginger! Or was it just $100?

While nobody at Chuckles even came close to the extreme terribleness of some of the acts at Shapiro’s, nobody really matched the possible fantastic-ness, either. In fact, I found myself merely “chuckling” at most of the acts, instead of guffawing. And that kids, is what we call a bad pun. But I suppose leeway must be given - after all, this was only the second time this night has run, and the comedians were obviously unused to, and therefore nervous about, performing while being judged by tipsy audience members holding elephant-shaped placards.

I’m heading back tonight for another go. Partly because the night’s organiser has a really nice smile, but also partly because I would hate for this night to be cancelled in its infancy because not enough people showed support. Perth needs more events like this desperately, and I encourage anyone reading this (and also the bazillions who aren’t) to get their asses over to Chuckle’s either tonight or in two weeks time with their laughing faces on.