8:37- And welcome to another running diary, an idea shamelessly stolen from Bill Simmons, who in turn shamelessly stole it from someone else, who in turn… I’ve lost you, haven’t I? I’m here alone tonight, as the parents are out of town and my sisters are preoccupied. I feel a slight tinge of guilt as I write this; being a teenager, shouldn’t I be throwing a Corey Worthington-like party if home alone? Or at 19, am I too old for that?
8:38- The always solid Paul McDermott, as our venerable host, kicks off proceedings with an overly dramatic song. I don’t really see the need for McDermott to constantly sing a song or ten at these galas. There’s no way that he’s getting a music career out of this.
8:50- My propensity for changing the channel when a comedian sings (let’s hope there’s not too much of that) leads to me missing the first one or two acts, and so when I do flick back it is David O’Doherty’s turn to perform. As far as musical comedians go, he is up there with the Flight of the Conchords at the top of the pile. The reason is simple: if these guys stopped playing their instruments, they’d still be insanely funny.
8:59- Reginald D. Hunter follows, and doesn’t live up to the second top billing he received on my television’s program guide at all. His act, whilst short, seemed to go on and on, as he only had about three jokes, with only one of them being particularly humourous.
9:07- Fiona O’Loughlin- I think the revelation that O’Loughlin is an alcoholic was one of the more startling news stories of the past year, if solely for the fact that her admission actually got covered by the media. I mean, comedians are D-level celebrities in Australia on account of there being absolutely no sitcoms being made in the last five years by people other than Wayne Hope. O’Loughlin’s alcoholism coverage was also surprising for the less publicised yet infinitely more important revelation- that she is indeed a comedian. Because her and Denise Scott’s inexplicable popularity, Spicks and Specks has effectively been ruined for me.
9:12- A Yank, whom I missed the name of, is doing a hilarious self-deprecating routine on dealing with getting old and the problem of “sleeping wrong”. Kind of reminds me of where Dane Cook will be in fifteen years, assuming he’s developed an ability for satirical humour by then. Wistful thinking on my part, methinks.
9:16- Josh something-or-other, a young Aussie musical comedian, effectively ruins any chance of me taking him seriously by singing about a train cake. A fairly lame, nostalgic premise like this needs to have actual jokes peppered throughout the lyrics if it has any hope of maintaining my interest, so I think it’s fairly self-explanatory when I say that I muted it 45 seconds in.
9:24- DENISE SCOTT! NO! NO! NO!
9:26- She only lasts two minutes. Can I get a “That’s what he said”?
9:28- Sammy G and his alien puppet sidekick Randy sing a pretty entertaining song about unknowingly dating the same girl. There’s one pressing problem, though, and it’s this: why can’t the guy voicing the alien just come onstage? Suspension of disbelief is a big thing to ask from a comedian, so wouldn’t it be easier if they just pretended this two-timing girl stuck to her own race? And why isn’t her interspecies dabbling addressed? If I had a girlfriend who was cheating on me, I’d be pretty shocked if it was with one of my chickens.
9:32- Must they show the entire series of graphic anti-smoking ads in the space of a minute? That shot of the woman with half her teeth gone always gives me nightmares.
9:34- A song by Paul McDermott fails miserably because of its contextual humour. Do they really expect us to still laugh at Sarah Palin jokes?
9:36- YES! Another singing act!
9:37- These guys are actually funny. Not only do they make jokes every line, the singer looks uncannily like a dark-haired, younger Jeremy Mitchell. And even though no one knows who he is, it’s a positive in my eyes. Also, the drummer (yes, they have a drummer) is using one of those electronic drum kits that should only be found in the basements of Gen Xers.
9:42- Ali McGregor and her butler (what?) are on. I honestly thought she was an opera singer before this. And I still do after it, as all she does is cover AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long”. The audience are laughing; presumably she gave them hash cookies beforehand.
9:46- Terry Alderton is on, and despite his lack of musical proclivities, I don’t really watch his act. His shtick seems to be imitating a multitude of nationalities and accents, something that is right down my alley. To give you an idea of my love of impersonations, I feel that a two-minute clip of Jim Carrey mimicking Jack Nicholson and other celebrities remains one of the ten funniest clips on YouTube, despite it being DUBBER OVER IN POLISH.
So why don’t I watch Alderton? Simply put, an incriminating photo of myself has arisen on Facebook. Enough said.
9:54- Adam Hills is on, and it couldn’t be timelier. The thing I love about him is his universal charm; it seems that he could simultaneously be the funniest guy in a pub, then go to an old folk’s home the next day and prove a hit there. Of course, the routine might have to be toned down just a little bit.
10:02- The legendarily boganesque Dave Hughes is on. My respect for Hughesy has skyrocketed following his decision to advertise for Eagle Boys Pizzas- his catchcry of “Come On, Pizzas!” is undoubtedly the greatest slogan of the last twenty years.
The night has come to a surprisingly early end (I thought these galas went on until I went to bed? I’ve never lasted an entire one before), so it’s time to go and watch the Lonely Island’s “Boombox” on Youtube for the fortieth time this week. I’m absolutely convinced that Casablancas cannot hit that last part- I’ve seen enough butchered Strokes songs to know his limits.