Monday, April 18, 2005

In many ways, I'm glad the Comedy Festival is over. I no longer have to straighten the shit out of my hair, wear contact lenses and g-strings every day, wear thick makeup that never really comes off, especially around the eyes, and trashy bling that gives me a rash around my neck. The tragicomedy is that the real Little Collins St booty hos hanging around stupidly at the club didn't even require me to take the piss out of them - they were ludicrous enough by themselves. I'd hear them on their mobiles: "Yeah, we're at the Kitten Club... yeah, it's just up from Zomp." Once, I was walking up the stairs from the street behind a herd of them, and overheard one say, "I don't know how you find these places." And last night, there was this woman displaying an arse-crack several inches long. The bar staff and all the assembled comics were pissing themselves.

But at the same time, I'm a little sad. As a creature of habit I'd got used to the routine of the show and the rhythm of the venue, and I looked forward to the opportunity to perform to a different crowd every night. Heh - a couple of chicks walked out of my show last night when I got to the "Position Description" rap with the sex-position illustrations. I'd just treated them to "Stand Up/Sit Down", which featured the witty and incisive chorus:
My dick's so hard that I can't stand up
It'll really hurt me if I try and stand up
She's saying "Come on over" but I can't stand up
Cos I've got a massive horn in my pants
Maybe I should have made it clearer that the Incredible Melk show contains "juvenile themes".

Oh, mercy - "Secret Buff" was a lot of fun last night, too. For one thing, Stuart was in the audience, and he was the model for the photos of the Melk's ex-boyfriend Joel Sinclair from Hugo Boss Posse. I thought about going, "Hey - you remind me of my ex-boyfriend," but I ended up just ignoring him. Bo was sitting in the corner with the most magnificent facial expression - I wished I could bottle it. He was glowering fiercely at me, yet with a little smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked simultaneously imperious and uncomfortable - like when you dress your cat in a humiliating outfit and its dignity makes the situation even funnier.

The techs wanted me to make Bo the Secret Buff Man, but he would have sabotaged it somehow, and I would never have heard the end of it. So instead I picked on Tim, who happened to be wearing a white skivvy. I dubbed him The White Wiggle, which as you can imagine was rich punmanship territory. I did this thing where I put my head on his knee and he stroked my hair like I was a Bond villain's cat. It was so magnificent. Thanks Tim, for being my ultimate Secret Buff man!

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