The Night Before The Biggest Made-Up Holiday…Ever

The Night Before The Biggest Made-Up Holiday…Ever

For those of you who don’t recall, Sunday blew. It was a pretty crappy day that made you pretty much want to stay inside, hide under about 23 duvets and watch the Dusk-To-Dawn Restaurant Makeover Marathon on Food Network. That is unless you had a spot at the Fox & Fiddle. Then you, like me, got up off your bum, headed for the door, and paused for one final look at the comforters amassed atop the couch and felt one longing tear find its way down your cheek.

The Fox nights on Sunday for me usually have some sort of snag associated with them. Sometimes, the sound doesn’t work. Other times, a comic gets assaulted on stage. I figured that football’s over, it should be a quiet night due to the weather, we’re good to go. In and out and home in time to see the midnight “Southpark”. Nope. I got there to be informed that because of the NBA All-Star game, no show would be starting until the game finished. All 250-plus points of it. Oh…bum. So, what do you do? You sit, enjoy half-price wings and $10 pitchers that what.

Minding myself on the pitcher count so as not to be outrageously belligerent when the show finally got off the ground, I ensured that all comics knew about this and made sure that they’d be there. You know what comics are like. Early risers, the lot of them. As well, my buddy Kristian Reimer was there and we talked about all things Melbourne-y, since he’s going down there as well around the same time I am. We’re planning to get some sort of review/fundraiser show to get us out of the country. Now, I know in the past you may have heard me mumbling under my breath – usually as you’re ejecting me from your home having just relieved myself in your dishwasher (which I maintained contained nothing but dirty dishes, so what was the problem?) and reeking of a mixture of Lamb’s Dark Rum, Labatt’s 50, and green NyQyuil – that I don’t ever need your help to get me thrown out of the country. Well, this time I may just. Kristian and I are currently looking for a venue for you to come down, see, and if you’re a newspaper person, review our respective shows for a trifling sum of something to keep us in Foster’s and Diggery-Doo lubricant whilst on the south coast.

So, anything happen during the show? No. Well, some funny. Some not-so-funny. Some drunk comics. Some reeeeeeeally drunk comics. Some reeeeeeeeally drunk comics that abandoned actual jokes for audience conversation. But there was no assault. Plenty of sound. And enough suicide sauce to cover my portion of the wings. To be honest I’m sad to see Jason back next week.

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