It's a brilliant line-up for the first night: Nick Capper, Ben Ellwood, Blake Mitchell, Nick Sun with feature Shane Matheson and MC Ash Jattan (okay, to be honest, I would have included some alternative, funny women in the line-up too, so it wouldn't just be an boys' club â it's not as though there aren't brilliant, hilarious women on the scene even while the Cloud Girls and significant other stalwarts are overseas; but that's a discussion for another blog post).
It starts at 7:30pm. You want a good night of comedy, come.
Iâve started our conversation rather bluntly, at what I consider to be the beginning: my first awareness of the stand-up comic Matt Okine.
It wasnât after Iâd first seen him on stage. It wasnât after Iâd first seen him on television. It was a couple of years before that.
Iâd first heard of Matt when another comic who had cut his teeth on the Brisbane circuit told me about two Brisbane comics â Matt being one of them â whoâd made an ad for McDonaldâs. The Maccaâs ad, as far as comedy peers were concerned, was a bad move.
âA lot of people thought that,â Matt laughs, admitting that the thought also crossed his mind. âAs a comic, youâre always going to come across situations where you have to question whether doing something is going to be good for your career or not. It all comes down to what you genuinely think of whomever youâre advertising for, I guess.â
Mattâs got no problem being affiliated with Maccaâs. Why would he? They were literally his very first employer as a teenager. âAfter I did that ad, I landed a small part on a TV show which I since got to work on the next season of; I got a small part in an American TV show that they were doing on the Gold Coast at the time; Iâve done multiple spots on TV as a comic; Iâm working right now as an actor; Iâm making my own stuffâ¦ I donât think it was a bad move.â
And of course, Mattâs worked for them again. More recently, he was in the rather cute âMaccaâs Chefâ created as a 9-part web series created and broadcast during MasterChef. They featured Melbourne comic Michael Chamberlin alongside Matt Okine.
âComics in general donât like anyone doing anything thatâs not âpureâ and âfor the art, manâ,â Matt explains. âIf you do anything for a commercial company, youâre âselling outâ. But as far as Iâm concerned, I was a 20-year-old guy who had nothing to sell in the first place.â
Indeed. And because Mattâs an actor and a comic, it was the perfect move to finance his comedy, and to land more acting work. It meant he didnât have to actually keep working in a Maccaâs, or undertake any other kind of Joe Job to get by. (And who can take, or even define, the moral high ground on this one? How many comics do you know will opt for late night fast food after a gig or during a festival run?)
In fact, McDonaldâs has enabled Matt to do is work on a new web series with a âreasonable budgetâ that enables him to spend time writing with two other co-creators. âThereâd be no chance that I could put something together that is mine, that has my own voice and has everything I wanted to do, without doing ads. Not just for McDonaldâs, but for anyone.â
The other point, of course, is that Mattâs been able to take the mickey out of Maccaâs in the process. The Maccaâs Chef ads were âpretty daringâ. Itâs impressive, he reckons, that a corporation like McDonaldâs can take a different and funny approach to what it does.
Yeah, I know; I watched Gruen Transfer too. I saw Wil Anderson, Todd Sampson, Russel Howcroft et al deconstruct that behind-the-scenes âtrust usâ pizza ad (the âcheese pullâ ad); multinational corporations are producing the statistically necessary and sufficient degree of self-deprecation required to win trust and keep making money. But if, in the process, they employ comedians to do what theyâre good at â be funny â and thus enable them after hours to do what theyâre good at â be funny â thatâs clearly far better than if they didnât employ comedians at all.
âIf more companies were willing to make content like that, itâd be a lot better,â Matt concurs. âI â and a lot of other comics, Iâm sure â wouldnât mindâ¦ workingâ¦â Irrespective, Matt also acknowledges that, chances are, âno matter what I do, there will be some comic out there who just does not like my sort of thing, or wants to have a whinge about it.â
Acting like a comedian
Matt got the comedy bug young and tried to convince a buddy whom he thought was very funny to enter the Raw Comedy competition with him, straight out of school. Unfortunately, by the time they got around to it, theyâd missed the entry deadline. So Matt went about his business attending drama school. He chose the Queensland University of Technologyâs course since they offered an intensive four-week comedy workshop in the second year. Before that workshop came, Matt made sure heâd registered for that yearâs Raw Comedy competition. âI wanted to get a heads-up before I did the workshop, and Iâd always wanted to do comedy anyway.â
Matt did extremely well. His first ever comedy performance was his Raw Comedy heat. Which he won. His second performance was his Raw Comedy semifinal. Which he also won. And although he came second in the state final â which was only his third gig â he was selected for the national final, âwhich,â he says, âI subsequently f*cked upâ. I know it sounds harsh; it was only his fourth ever gig, and customary though it is to do okay at your first, getting by on adrenalin and fear, and then crash and burn thereafter, it is a pity that he had to crash and burn in front of his biggest live audience while being filmed for television.
âIt was an amazing experience and everything like that, but it still goes down as one of my worst gigs,â he recalls.
I canât help wondering if there was a bit too much âridingâ on the gig; beyond the fact that it was the national final, Matt did mention he was selected for the national final despite not winning his state final. Indeed, the state winner didnât make the national final.
âI still donât know why exactly,â Matt says. âI can only assume why, but I can never state why.â
I think I can guess why. Or at least, guess what Mattâs thinking, but not wanting to say. And Iâm having a bit of a problem saying it, too. Perhaps he fears there was some affirmative action at work â that he got through so he could be the âmember of a racial minorityâ on the bill. âTotally,â Matt says. âIâm sure that helpedâ¦â
Yeah, being different from most people, but as talented as the other person whoâs the same as almost everyone, does make you stand out. And if you think about it, guys who are totally the same, competing with others for a prize, stand less chance than guys who are very different, because they donât stand out as much. Perhaps Matt got through to the final because he is black. (There. I said it.) But I doubt it. He more l likely got through because he was good. And not comedically âsameyâ.
Promoters the world over will program a comedy night to make it appeal to the most people and thereâs any number of reasons theyâll select some specific comics over others. Usually it is so the audience doesnât have to sit through two comics doing the same shtick. You donât want to see two musical folk singing comics on the same bill, or two impressionists, or two anythings (unless itâs a festival specifically celebrating folk singing comics or impressionists or the anything subgenre of comedy, in which case, take a bunch of the best and hope they stand out from each other for some other reason) because the second oneâs rarely even close to seeming as funny as the first, even if the second is as good as the first. Unless, of course, the second one is better than the first. In which case, ditch the the first, go with the second.
But if you do perceive yourself as a member of some subgenre, and you are put on a bill, thereâs more to be said of making the most of it, of taking the stage time and making it matter, rather than wondering why. Far better you just ensure you have your shit together enough to make the most of such a situation, should you ever be part of it. Because all stage time is good stage time. Particularly when youâve won each round of a talent contest because youâre good. Maybe Matt didnât win the state final because he had an off night, or didnât bring as much of an audience, or any other number of reasons that would have been taken into account before putting him into the national final. It doesnât matter anymore.
And anyway, itâs not like affirmative action â if thatâs what it was (and I donât believe it was) â canât work against the minority, either. Matt knows this from his acting experience. âInstead of being one in 2000, Iâm one in 20,â he explains, which is good. But, he adds, âthe amount of roles that come up for those 20 is about 80 to 90 percent less.â
And what of those roles that do come up? I canât help thinking of Margaret Cho, the American comic of Korean descent who, before she made it as an internationally successful comedian, would get offered television parts all the time. Mostly as âthe Asian prostituteâ in a police drama.
âI always get to play the homeboy or the guyâs best friend,â Matt laughs. âBut I donât care if Iâm playing the best friend; Iâll take that.â
The reason I donât mind writing about this is because Matt has to deal with it, time and again, as a way of life. Indeed, the first routine I ever saw him do was one about how he is perceived: people asking him where heâs from â (itâs Queensland) â when what they really want to know is why he looks different. Point is, in the process, Okine revealed some of my own inherent racism to me. Not an overt hateful bigotry, just a tendency towards preconceived modes of thinking and behaviour in which, to be honest, Iâd otherwise have kidded myself I donât indulge. And thatâs what good comedy can do: reveal truths about yourself and your world that you didnât realise were the case. Or truths you knew, but didnât actually realise or acknowledge that you knew.
âThatâs why I still use that joke, three years on,â Matt says. âI do a little bit of âblackâ material in my set, but I try not to over-saturate my material with it. I like opening with that joke because generally, when I walk on stage, itâs just natural for the audience to go âhereâs the black guyâ, and I just address it and get it out of the way and itâs over.â
In other words, there can often be a level of trepidation in the audience that dissipates as soon as Matt has dealt with it. Itâs not so apparent in busy cities where there are lots of different people. But in regional towns boasting a more homogenous populace, you can âreally feel it in the audience, people watching you, going, âI wonder what this is going to be likeâ. And then after I do that opening joke, you can really feel the audience warm and relax.â
And of course, in the big cities where the audience is less homogenous, punters will step up to Matt after a gig and tell him that they experience the behaviour he described â people asking where theyâre from and not meaning âwhere in Australiaâ â all the time.
That opening routine is one of many I can quote, having seen him perform several times. But when I think about it, I canât actually encapsulate what his comedy is about or what it is he does. In fact, Matt hasnât quite found a pat description for his comedy either.
âPeople ask me what my comedyâs about all the time, and you know what? I donât really know. My comedy is about me. Itâs very self-indulgent, but I just talk about things that Iâve done and the way that I see things in the world. Thatâs all I really talk about. Put simply like that, I sound like some kind of egomaniac, on stage with a microphone, letting loose about whatever I think is funny â but thatâs pretty much what I do. I donât try to hide that with one-liners or anything. What I talk about is my point of view. Iâm just talking about shit that Iâve done and seen.â
Thereâs nothing wrong with that. Thatâs pretty much what every good comedian you care to mention does, in the end.
Disco Matt MC Esquire III
Given that Matt continues to act and to do comedy, the question is whether acting and comedy are parallel careers for him. Because some comics trained as actors but really just want to be comedians. Other comics are doing stand-up in the hope to ultimately get into movies. In Mattâs case, the two will continue, together.
âFrom very early on, Iâve wanted to something like Larry David or Jerry Seinfeld,â he says, âwhere I can write and act in my own sitcom or show. It doesnât have to be The Matt Okine Show. Iâd like to be part of the writing team and act out a character Iâm writing for.â
Mattâs already started: late last year he worked on a pilot for television, but by the time they cast it, there wasnât a character for Matt to play. âI didnât want to write a new one, I just enjoyed working on it. But Iâve done the writing thing; Iâve done the acting thing; Iâve done comedy; Iâd like to meld it all together, whichever way it works. I really like the idea of writing a show and then acting in it.â
The first step towards the master plan is a web series thatâs due to launch in November, entitled The Future Machine(one of those proejects Matt is able to finance through doing ads for the likes of Maccaâs). In fact, hereâs the trailer for it, hot off the press:
There are, of course, other creative projects heâs undertaken, in order to hone his skills and pursue his creative bent. Like the video blog he maintains, as Disco Matt MC Esquire, III. It began as a hobby.
âWhen I was 18 I started making music in my bedroom. At first it was acoustic music, me stuffing around with my guitar. Then I discovered how to make rap beats in my bedroom. So I just started making hip hop EPs with a friend, and I went under the name Disco Matt MC. The first one was me learning how to use everything.â
The second one was more creative. Entitled The Bling, it was a take-off of The Ring: âIf you listen to the EP youâll die in seven days,â he says. âItâs got a narrative that goes through the five songs.â The third one, The New Start, was more serious, dealing with his âmove to Sydneyâ¦ and stuffâ. In the process, the Disco Matt MC character developed.
âI really like the character,â Matt says. âI think heâs fun.â Ideally Matt would like to put Disco Matt MC Esquire III in a sitcom. In the meantime, he appears in funny sketches on YouTube.
âThe video blogs are there to see what other people make of that character. I really like him. Iâve done a couple of live performances as him, but not many people know about him. I want to see what people think of him.â
Of course, the EPs are still available for download from Mattâs homepage, should anyone want to listen. But heâs quick to point out that, unlike the comedy and the acting, the music is just a hobby. âDonât expect Ice Cube or Ice T,â he says. âItâs more like Ice Coffee. Or Vanilla Ice.â
Whatever you think, itâs an impressive body of work for relatively young comic to have behind him. Although Matt insists that itâs a âpretty weird experienceâ, his career thus far. Two days ago we were chatting at the Laugh Garage Comedy Club, where he took the stage first as a member of Man Choir, the a cappella group consisting entirely of male comedians, and then as a solo stand-up comic. But for this interview, Iâve phoned him in Far North Queensland, where heâs spent the day âon a boat, sailing between the islands off the coast with a full navy vesselâ behind him, filming scenes that will appear in the second season of Sea Patrol. At the end of the week heâll be headlining at the Laugh Garage again.
âItâs really cool,â Matt says. âI like acting, I like comedy. I donât have anything else to fall back on. This is my one thing that Iâve done pretty much since I left school and Iâm going to make it work, regardless.â
So, chances are, thereâll be more comedians bitching about Matt Okine soon!
âMatt Okineâ is a difficult name to make one of my customary cute, punning title out of. The closest I could come was to use a phrase with âokâ, and substituting âOkineâ in its place. They kinda sucked (try it yourself if you don't believe me). In the process, however, I discovered a theory that âOkineâ is a Scottish surname, not too far removed from âAtkinsâ and âAitkenâ. And that the family motto is âStrength and Vigilenceâ. See for yourself.
The hilarious and absurd Shane Matheson (who presides over something called Mrs Funberries with the equally hilarious and absurd Ryan Withers) has suggested a corker of a title: Close Encounters of the Okine. I'd have used it, but when Shane gave me permission, he said that heâd previously given it to Matt as a show title. Thatâs where it really ought appear: as a festival show title. But I like it a lot.
âLike a lot of British, I came here
backpacking,â Rhys Jones explains. âAfter seven months Iâd run out of money and
got stuck in Sydney, and just kind of gave comedy a go.â
Iâd like to tell you that stand-up comic
Rhys Jones â who hails from Portsmouth, England â is an interesting guy; that
heâs an amazing comic; that heâs a close personal friend and itâs been a real
pleasure getting to know him; but I wonât. Because no matter how true all of it
is, Iâm only just getting to know Rhys and I have a certain amount of jealousy
that this guy can just pop up out of nowhere and be running a popular open mic
Okay, sure, he has been doing comedy for a
few years now â paid his dues and all that â and he himself admits that heâs
only really started to pick up momentum âover the last six months or soâ, but
this is also the guy whoâll occasionally give notice for failing to make a gig
because heâs landed another, MCing for strippers. When has your excuse for
âpikingâ ever been so good?
Meanwhile, his room, âStand Up, Get Downâ
at the World Bar on Bayswater Road, Darlinghurst, has gone from being
fortnightly to weekly. And Rhys is helping program comedy for festivals like
the up-coming Playground Weekender. So, no matter how good, nice, talented,
decent he is, or how hard heâs worked to be as successful as he is, I have to
hate him just a little bit on principle. How dare he be that cool, that good,
that essential to the growing comedy scene, seemingly out of nowhere?
Long Time Being
âIâve been here five years,â Rhys explains when we finally catch up for a chat â ostensibly to promote the Playground
Weekender festival. Despite being broke and stranded seven months into his
visit to Australia, now he is not so broke, and not quite stranded. Rather, he
says, heâs âkind of trappedâ â but in a good way: âowning thingsâ now prevents
him from heading home. Acquiring âbig thingsâ like a sofa, accumulating a life,
a career, and friends, he is essentially planting roots over here. âI like it,â
he says â and it must be liking him back. Friends are certainly harder to
offload on www.gumtree.com.au than the sofa, so why not stay! Especially when
it was âa dear friendâ that finally encouraged Rhys to take a stab at stand-up
âI was kind ofâpress-gangedâ into it,â he insists. âShe suggested it when
Iâd come up with a particularly witty quip at a dinner party. I kind of just
tossed the suggestion aside offhand. I blame her, basically.â Being the âdear
friendâ that she is, Rhys's buddy entered him into the Melbourne International Comedy
Festival/Triple J Raw Comedy competition. Which is a good thing. Because
despite growing up a âhuge student of comedyâ in England, where humour was
essentially âembeddedâ into him from an early age via sitcoms like âBlack Adder, Only Fools And Horses and the rest of itâ, he probably wouldnât
have gotten around to giving it ago himself. Sure, Portsmouth was a big enough
place to afford a lot of live comedy â with their own Jongleurs (part of a
UK-wide chain of venues) and âmajor actsâ like Harry Hill and Steve Coogan
passing through to play the Guildhall as part of a national tour, and even a
fortnightly comedy room at the Wintergreen â but there was no open mic scene to
speak of. So even though, Rhys says, comedy was something that heâd thought
about doing, something that heâd âalmost fantasised aboutâ, where was he going
to take the stage in order to learn the art?
Well, of course, there is Londonâ¦
âTo be honest, I found London quite a daunting prospect.â
Rhys admits. âSydney, as a city, is a really good middle ground, because itâs a
cosmopolitan city, but itâs not quite as harsh and as massive as London.â Itâs
also âby the seaâ, like his home town. So Sydney offers the best aspects of
London and Portsmouth with an easier entre â if youâre willing to take it â
into comedy. âSince Iâve tried stand-up in Sydney, and done it elsewhere in
Australia, I think Australiaâs a great place to âlearn the tradeâ, as it were.
Particularly in Sydney: most of the audiences are pretty attentive and have a âgood
on the newcomerâ attitude. I donât think Iâd be involved in comedy in the UK â
Iâd be the funny guy at the pub getting drunk every weekend. Now Iâm a guy
doing comedy and getting drunk every weekend. And occasionally during the
in the Raw
One point I am having trouble with is that
Rhys Jones was a Raw Comedy contestant in Sydney â having judged pretty much
all the Sydney heats for the last I-donât-know-how-many years, I must have
judged Rhysâs. How come I wasnât aware of him until he was doing well enough
for me to be jealous of his success? According to Rhys, his two attempts âended
in a bit of a disasterâ â as far as early attempts at amateur comedy go. âThe
first one was the first ever time I did comedy, and I lost my train of thought.
The second one, I forgot the last two minutes of my routine. After a promising
start, I just walked off.â
Iâm kind of relieved â Iâd hate to have
failed to spot a genuine talent. And, better still, it proves my strongest held
tenets about comedy and competitions: the point of doing comedy is to make the
audience laugh, not to win competitions. And the point of doing comedy
competitions is to make the audience laugh, not to win competitions. Some of
the finest talent you will ever be amused by, failed to win competitions â the
comedians who make it are the ones who keep getting back up on stage. And the
ones who start running their own venues so that they can keep getting back up
have a better chance of that. Rhys agrees. âThe only way you learn is through
those bad gigs. I think Iâve come along a lot.â
Too true. In fact, you learn a lot more
from a so-called âbad gigâ than you do from walking away from a âgoodâ one. In
fact, in my limited experience, itâs easy to walk away from a successful
performance a little bit proud and cocky, and then totally stuffing up the next
one as a result! Again, Rhys concurs: âI think the key to getting anywhere in
comedy â and Iâm still just starting out âis building a thick enough skin to deal
with the low blows.â
Which leads to the other golden rule of
stand-up comedy: no comic has ever done their best or worst gig. Thereâs always
going to be one down the track that could set the new benchmark! Thatâs just as
true â possibly more so â when running the room. Again, Rhys knows this only too
well. âYou really get an insight how tough it is marketing comedy to people,â he
says of his experience with âStand Up, Get Downâ. âThereâs been a bit of an
explosion with venues in Sydney in the last year. Some of them are doing better
than others. Ours is going steady. Weâve got a particular nicheâ¦ We do try and
promote the little guy, to a certain extent. Iâm all a bout giving headline and
MC spots to guys who are up-and-coming who perhaps wouldnât get on in a similar
capacity at other venues.â
Clearly, Iâd suggest, Rhys must be getting
right, seeing as âStand Up, Get Downâ has gone from a fortnightly room to a
âYeah, we changed that in December, the
reason being that it was impossible for people to keep track of what weeks we
were on. The idea to go weekly is just so people know every Wednesday thereâs
comedy at the World Bar, instead of having to faff around trying to work out
which week the night falls on.â
âThe weekly comedy room at the World Bar is
attached to a night called âThe Wallâ, run by my business partner Dan Chin.
Every week he has a different artist exhibiting upstairs and we run the comedy
out of that room. âStand Up, Get Downâ is also known as âComedy At The Wallâ
because itâs affiliated with this art space night.â
Oh, okay. So Rhys Jones in a nutshell: came
to Australia to realise the lifetime of comedy embedded into him, hitherto only
fantasised about, and contributes significantly to the local stand-up scene.
But thereâs more: in the process he also starts helping establish some of the
cooler aspects of the UK comedy scene Downunder. The Playground Weekender
festival, now in its fourth year, is the prime example of that.
âPlayground Weekender is a festival started
by English expats,â Rhys explains. âThey started up Good Vibrations a few years
ago before selling it on. The whole ethos is a British-style festival, so it
has a lot more of a laid-back aesthetic than, say, your Big Day Outs or your
other music events; the whole ethos is fun. Iâve been to every one and seen it
grow, which has been great.â
From barely 2000 attendees that first year
(still a significant start, of course), the Playground Weekender festival had
quadrupled in size by its third year: 8000 people. This year theyâre expecting
12,000. Not only that: this year thereâll be comedy. Using the British model,
where every festival has a comedy venue, Playground Weekender is offering two
hours of comedy on each of the festivalâs four nights, in âThe Shackâ.
âDan and I are both extremely chuffed that
theyâve asked us to host the comedy stage. Weâve got one of the main stages to
run. Itâs a beautiful setting as well: the Del Rio resort at Wisemans Ferry, on
the Hawkesbury River. Itâs just a really laid- back âanything goesâ attitude,
really. Like any music festival, itâs what you make of it. You can go for the
quiet time, or you can go crazy.â
Furthermore, there are live art
installations that culminate with a charity auction at the end of the festival,
hosted by Rhys. âWe did that a few years ago and it was a huge success,â he
says. Iâm impressed. More so, when I ask Rhys if he was instrumental in
ensuring comedy become a part of the festival. âAll the legwork was done by
Dan,â he says. âIâm just clinging onto his coattails and sorting out some
comics and getting the word out, I guess.â
Talented, successful and humble. Rhys, I
really want to like you, but you make it so difficultâ¦ And it gets worse:
âOur grand vision is to introduce this
format to other weekend festivals around Australia. In Britain itâs a given:
thereâs always a comedy tent in every festival you go to, which generally runs
all day, every day.If we could
introduce a scaled-down version, and perhaps, further down the line, have the
financial backing to get some really big names out, It could be something we
take around Australia with us.â
Umâ¦ Rhys, mate, Iâm just wonderingâ¦ is
there any more room on those coattails?
Playground Weekender runs for a four-day
weekend at Wisemans Ferry, from Thurs 18 Feb to Sun 21 Feb. A four-day ticket
is $219. A three-day ticket is $199 (plus booking fees). There are day tickets
available as well.
Musical artists include Orbital, Lupe
Fiasco, The Polyphonic Spree, The Cribs, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Jamie
Lidell, Steve Lawler, Bluejuice, Bjorn Again, Gui Boratto, OK GO and LTJ Bukem.
More importantly, here are the comedians
appearing â in Rhysâs words, âour favourite performers of 2009:
Eric Hutton â Stand Up, Get Downâs favourite
headliner and a highly original
funny man. The Voice of Barry White with the delivery of a highly accurate
postman [Iâd say heâs the illegitimate product of an illicit tryst between The
Chaserâs Charles Firth and Andrew Hansen, but whatever â Dom], this strawberry
blond dynamo is a truly originally comic / the best freestyle rapper in town! http://erichuttontime.com/
Nick Sun â Fresh from a tour of the States
supporting Doug Stanhope, and on the verge of a fourth show at the Melbourne
International Comedy festival, Nick is a unique comedian who eschews the
artificiality of traditional stand up for a more insightful, honest and god
damn, sharp as a knife hilarious brand of comedyâ¦ http://www.nicksun.com/pages/multimedia.php
Shane Matheson â Highly unconventional,
brilliantly inventive and always hilarious, Shane is about to venture to
Melbourne International Comedy Festival for his third festival show. Superb
improviser and great ârandomistâ, Shane combines the fearlessness of Sam
Simmons, with the characterisation of those British legends Vic Reeves and Bob
Ryan Withers â Natural born funny man,
armed with a rapier wit and rather girlish looks, Ryan Withers aka DJ Randy
Winters, is a regular performer, and organisational contributor at Stand Up Get
Down. About to burst forth at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival with
his first solo show, Ryan has supported the likes of Arj Barker and Jamie
Kilstien here in Sydney. 2009 was a massive year, but it looks like 2010 is
truly going to be where this young Maestro really hits his stride. For an
insight into the truly unique mind of Ryan Withers read this recent column
where he interviews himself, wow, crazy fun!http://www.throwshapes.com.au/2009/12/17/comedy-gatecrash-ryan-withers-vs-ryan-withers/
The Cloud Girls aka Carnovale and Culp â
Past performers at Sydney Cracker, Melbourne Fringe and Adelaide Fringe
festivals, the Cloud Girls are truly unique character based comedians. Taking the
everyday mundane and turning it into great sketched routines, the C and C
laughter factory is going to be one not to miss! For a tiny taster check out
this clip http://www.youtube.com/user/carnovaleandculp#p/a/u/1/3XDCHQJIj60
With ample support coming from the likes of
Rhys Jones, Nick Capper, Dain Hedgpeth, Ray Badran, Rod Todd, John Cruickshank,
Ben Ellwood and more to be announced, expect a hilarious and diverse show from
Sydneyâs best alternative comedy collective!
For more information or questions on Stand
Up, Get Down please contact Rhys Jones at [email protected]