When a stand-up comedian tours they can get the opportunity to play some magnificent theatres, some dripping rich with history and character. This was not one of those places. West Wyalong, about 6 hours drive due west of Sydney, is the kind of place where Google Maps asks you where it is. West Wyalong actually sits in the Shire of Bland so even from the start the tourism board has an uphill battle. Still our dysfunctional troupe of 5 comedians, a tour manager and a stage manager meandered into town on a Friday afternoon, albeit road weary, to see how we would be received on the Melbourne International Comedy Festival Roadshow.
The gig was to be performed at the Services and Citizens club (RSL) in the centre of town. Off memory we had to compete with about 120 Pokies machines for entertainment (personally I still find it weird that a centre catering for ex-serviceman and woman, who were in a war zone, want to fill it with machine’s that make loud noises and surprising flashes). To say the locals were dubious of us would be an understatement. Stand-up comedy doesn’t rely on an intense light display, a backing band or overt stage props. Unlike Wicked we can’t brag about the grandeur that the audience is about to witness (I can see the posters now “With more than $80 spent at Dick Smiths this extravaganza is going to leave you thinking ‘was it safe to have so much gaffer tape on exposed wires?’”). Armed with only a microphone and jokes- ostensibly it’s not a spectacular offer. On this night I was also met with the healthiest of pre-gig encouragement from a punter exclaiming ‘It better be funny’. Thanks. I mean no one ever threatened James Cameron at the opening of Avatar with ‘It better be 3D!!’ (Which, I may add, our show covered right from the start with aplomb).
With 250 people sitting at long tables and the bar staying open throughout the performance we not only had to win them over with what we do, we had to work around their bladder cycles whilst doing it. Interestingly the male toilets were to one side of the room, yet the other side had a fire exit where the female toilets should be. Fire appeared to be a bigger issue than the West Wyalong women relieving themselves; instead of bushfire relief, it’s either bushfire or relief, no in between here.
Initially the cold from the night, and the crowd, was palpable. Crossed arms and stale faces do not a good comedy night maketh. We were nervous and they were nervous. Stand-up really is a dance between the performer and the audience and our partners seemed reticent from the start, but nobody leaves comedy in the corner. As the night wore on both the acts and the audience got comfortable and we really starting getting along. Like the Torres and the Liberal Democrats in the UK elections we may have started from different perspectives but by the end we combined to make the majority.
The interval was like going to the bathroom on a date- it gives you time to decide if you really want to keep going on with it or act like you just got a text about your highland terrier falling under a Road-train’s 18 wheel carriage. After the break no such excuses were necessary, as it appeared we were mutually happy. As a sign of how the night was going the last act performed and a gentlemen, who sounded like he was suffering from Poor Imagery and Speech Slurring Dysfunction (or PISSD for short) made a comment straight from a Jason Akermanis column. As soon as it had left his mouth the audience, now self-policing, yelled for him to decease and shut the Further Ugly Crass Knowledge up.
At the end of the show the audience were happy and heaping us with praise and encouragement. We lapped up the fan fare and we didn’t have to be a 17-year-old solo world circum navigator to earn it. Even the next morning when we were getting ready to venture to our new destination a handful of locals went out of their way to come up and thank us for the previous night. It was lovely to know they enjoyed it and in return we know we enjoyed it as well.
I think the best way to sum it all up is to leave it up to a local lass Nat, who reviewed us colloquially and succinctly, ‘You know- I thought you guys were going to be Sh!t but you’re not.’ Thanks West Wyalong.