Friday, December 29, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
China
On the streets of Beijing. It's another world here.
On the Streets of Beijing.
Time seems to halt, shift rapidly, then return to whence it came.
On the streets of Beijing.
I've come full-circle.
On the streets of Beijing.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Ross Noble
If you haven’t heard the name Ross Noble in the past year or so, you must have been hiding under a rock or something else large and heavy. Judging by the size of the audience, covering a wide demographic of people, his humour reaches out to all. His quirky brand of erratic and chaotic slapstick humour takes the audience back and forth through Ross’ warped and disturbed mind. Sometimes Noble seems more confused than his audience, but it’s his ability to hilariously struggle out of the proverbial comedic quicksand that makes Ross Noble so brilliantly funny.
The large expanses of the Town Hall’s main theatre do not diminish the bond that Ross establishes with his audience. The interaction with audience members seems to be his staple, as he is an off-the-cuff type of performer who will start a story 15 minutes into the show and finish it an hour and a half later.
There are a lot of wild tangents involving dwarfs licking chocolate off grapefruits, for example, or fish with breasts and exploding vaginas. To an Australian audience this is like Cocky’s Joy on bush damper, as we’re not obtuse to fart jokes and taking the piss out of other people.
Ross Noble’s show is big, loud, fast paced and wildly funny. And now that Ross is spending even more time in Australia, more and more people will be converted to his seamless brand of thinking-on-your-feet comedy.
First published in The Pun.
The large expanses of the Town Hall’s main theatre do not diminish the bond that Ross establishes with his audience. The interaction with audience members seems to be his staple, as he is an off-the-cuff type of performer who will start a story 15 minutes into the show and finish it an hour and a half later.
There are a lot of wild tangents involving dwarfs licking chocolate off grapefruits, for example, or fish with breasts and exploding vaginas. To an Australian audience this is like Cocky’s Joy on bush damper, as we’re not obtuse to fart jokes and taking the piss out of other people.
Ross Noble’s show is big, loud, fast paced and wildly funny. And now that Ross is spending even more time in Australia, more and more people will be converted to his seamless brand of thinking-on-your-feet comedy.
First published in The Pun.
Rich Hall & Mike Wilmot
Late night stand-up in the Lower Town Hall has never been so surly, offensive and clever. Veteran comedians Rich Hall (USA) and Mike Wilmot (Canada) take the stage at 11.15pm. The show is split in half with Mike and Rich performing individual stand-up routines. Although their material differs in content, their delivery comes at you like the longing glance of a recently retrenched office worker from the end of a dark bar—and he’s been drinking all day.
Rich Hall’s material is well-crafted, insightful and quick-witted. His observations on politics, religion and current events are show highlights and are delivered with the stone faced bite of a drugged up pit bull. You have to be up to date with the news to get the most out of Hall’s material, but if you love the sociopathic ramblings of a classic angry beer drinking comedian, don’t miss this act.
Mike Wilmot is more of the same but bases the majority of his material around sucking cock, licking clit and a wonderful re-enactment of a gimp’s first time. His delivery is slow, inviting the audience into a world of depravity and smart social observations. He holds you down on your knees and makes you breathe through your ears, because you’re laughing too much of course.
Both Rich Hall and Mike Wilmot exude a stage presence that is confronting yet intimate. Their late night show is not for the faint hearted but leaves you laughing to the end and wanting more.
First published in The Pun.
Rich Hall’s material is well-crafted, insightful and quick-witted. His observations on politics, religion and current events are show highlights and are delivered with the stone faced bite of a drugged up pit bull. You have to be up to date with the news to get the most out of Hall’s material, but if you love the sociopathic ramblings of a classic angry beer drinking comedian, don’t miss this act.
Mike Wilmot is more of the same but bases the majority of his material around sucking cock, licking clit and a wonderful re-enactment of a gimp’s first time. His delivery is slow, inviting the audience into a world of depravity and smart social observations. He holds you down on your knees and makes you breathe through your ears, because you’re laughing too much of course.
Both Rich Hall and Mike Wilmot exude a stage presence that is confronting yet intimate. Their late night show is not for the faint hearted but leaves you laughing to the end and wanting more.
First published in The Pun.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
The Guy Pulled Over's Life at a Glance
Working on the land with my hands.
Banging my head against a brick wall.
Kicking a dead horse with my feet.
The small of her back all covered in dirt.
Viewing their deaths from up close,
scratching around, picking lint off the floor.
Sniffing around for the smell of success.
The house on the hill ablaze.
Not a negative outlook,
but a realistic one.
Steeped in observational judgement,
but realistic nonetheless.
Banging my head against a brick wall.
Kicking a dead horse with my feet.
The small of her back all covered in dirt.
Viewing their deaths from up close,
scratching around, picking lint off the floor.
Sniffing around for the smell of success.
The house on the hill ablaze.
Not a negative outlook,
but a realistic one.
Steeped in observational judgement,
but realistic nonetheless.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Bar the Black Sheep
Bar the black sheep.
Too fly-blown, no seeds sewn.
Too dry, scorched earth fried.
Nothing left to keep,
Too empty to weep.
Back-burn for the summer.
Crops dead, sheep dead.
A brown bit dad badly.
Nothing left, dad dead.
The past was train wreck
and mother had rope burns around her neck.
Bail for some money.
Leased the homestead:
Land was dead, they said.
But now it good for growing grapes.
I feel stupid, I feel raped
And share the farmer’s sentiment.
Bar fly for hours,
Bitter tasting, humbling and lasting.
Wasting away in a flesh-casting of a man.
If my folks could see me now.
Too fly-blown, no seeds sewn.
Too dry, scorched earth fried.
Nothing left to keep,
Too empty to weep.
Back-burn for the summer.
Crops dead, sheep dead.
A brown bit dad badly.
Nothing left, dad dead.
The past was train wreck
and mother had rope burns around her neck.
Bail for some money.
Leased the homestead:
Land was dead, they said.
But now it good for growing grapes.
I feel stupid, I feel raped
And share the farmer’s sentiment.
Bar fly for hours,
Bitter tasting, humbling and lasting.
Wasting away in a flesh-casting of a man.
If my folks could see me now.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
From Darkness Comes Light
No money, no food.
No more to gain,
nothing to lose.
No crops, no seed.
No wood for the winter,
More mouths to feed.
No drive, no will.
No hope.
Nothing but an empty shell.
No rain, no God.
No relief.
More pieces of me lost.
No bullets, no gun.
No prayers answered.
Nothing but sun, sun, sun.
More than a stretched landscape.
Nothing left here for me.
No more to gain,
nothing to lose.
No crops, no seed.
No wood for the winter,
More mouths to feed.
No drive, no will.
No hope.
Nothing but an empty shell.
No rain, no God.
No relief.
More pieces of me lost.
No bullets, no gun.
No prayers answered.
Nothing but sun, sun, sun.
More than a stretched landscape.
Nothing left here for me.
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