In order to blog at you, I’ve had to find out what a blog is, just one of the many new things I have learned in my first year of comedy. I have been on trips, learned new swear words and I have seen the Milky Way. I have learned that silence is not golden, silence is in fact poo brown and usually means you aren’t being funny. I have learned about the immense pleasure gained from harnessing a room full of joy. It was once, and for about 30 seconds, but it was awesome.
My day job is as an Intensive Care nurse, where my monologues usually consist of: ‘So the good news is, your wife isn’t completely dead, the bad news is the only remaining working organ she has is her bowel.’ I adore my job, and for me there is something overwhelmingly great about making peoples terrible times as unterrible as possible. Weirdly enough, it is the same feeling I get from trying to make my comedy times as brilliant as possible.
The people I have met at Adelaide Comedy are simply some of the sweetest people I have ever met. Like old people, all wise and shit. I have decided that Adelaide Comedy is a user friendly cult. There is a sort of magnetic power to our Rhino Mecca, and all apostles are required to spread the word constantly, ‘Have you heard the good news friend, comedy doesn’t end when the fringe does.’ I must make it clear that at no point has the cult leader asked me to lay naked with him, this might be how you get in the Hall of Fame.
I haven’t found myself, I liked me already which is just one of the things I liked about me. I’m not saying I have been on a Journey; Journeys are for Oprah Winfrey and Hobbits. I am however a little bit kinder and a whole lot sillier than a year ago. Essentially Adelaide Comedy made me more Adelaidian.
Adelaide Comedy and its peoples—I thank you.
(By Georgie Carroll)