The broad themes of the show explore loneliness, alienation and failure, and it is precisely this ability to mine the darkest aspects of humanity (or not) that make Randerson’s work undeniably unique and compelling. Past works have included her brother shooting her point-blank with a rifle, and a gypsy washerwoman dipping McDonald’s fries into the bloodied crotch of her baby daughter’s corpse. Understandably, this kind of material does not always generate laughter, but often it does, which can be very surprising – both for Randerson and for the audience themselves.

Randerson seems fascinated by the audience reaction to her borderline humour. As noted before, her material bombs outrageously as often as it succeeds, plunging Randerson into depression and causing us to doubt her sanity in subjecting herself to this kind of failure. Yet she persists, never diluting or compromising her work but delivering it raw and uncensored.

If any label can be applied to Randerson’s weird, perverse, and wildly variegated comedy, it’s that elusive word ‘cult’. Randerson’s work is ‘cult hit’ material if ever there was such a thing, and she has already established a small, baffled and bemused following among Melbourne audiences. Whether amused, confused or genuinely amazed by her material, people seem compelled to come back for more.

Troubling and difficult it may be, but Randerson’s work is also very intelligent. She has a swag of aussie plaudits to attest to her brilliance’a Golden Gibbo for Carry On Randerson (2004) and ‘Best Comedy Melbourne Fringe’ for Cracks in the Garden (2003). She has several strings to her bow besides performance, including two published volumes of short fiction (The Spit Children and The Keys to Hell), and a sideline career as a registered marriage celebrant. She recently collaborated with eminent New Zealand physicist Paul Callahan for ‘Are Angels OK”?a Victoria University lecture series pairing writers with scientists.

What drives Jo Randerson is uncertain, but one thing is clear – her comedy is unlike anything else on this earth.

Quite obviously aimed at an audience of children, the show is also highly entertaining for adults. Especially enjoyable is watching the front row squirm and shriek as they are covered in eggs, flour and other food explosions (Aprons are supplied, but not required.)

MAN the MYTH is all about initiation into manhood, be it through beer, bongs or ‘bombs’ (the kind that splash water over people, not flaming bits of debris). It’s essentially a rites of passage show, where Grant recalls tales of his misspent youth and connects easily with the testosterone in the audience. As a female, I was able to appreciate the characteristics of the Aussie male, but I couldn’t laugh with the same intensity as the boys. I also found some of the material dated and predictable’has there ever been a time in history when comedy hasn’t mined the differences between men and women?

On a more refreshing note, Grant sends a quiet but clear message to his fellow man: don’t be afraid to visit the prostate doctor. It was a gentle reminder that in between the bottle shops and boxing rings, life can grip a man by his you-know-what. I applaud Grant for broaching a sensitive issue with an overtly masculine audience.

The reason Jimeoin’s observation comedy is so successful is because he illustrates a condition of insecurity that is common to all of us. He is a master at picking up on the self-conscious habits that people adopt when they think they’re being watched. Who hasn’t parallel parked badly when there’s a crowd of onlookers? Who hasn’t fluffed their dance moves in front of members of the opposite sex?

There are shades of stand-up Seinfeld to Jimeoin, with universal truths being thrown under the microscope and studied though a comedic lens. Jimeoin isn’t an energetic comic; unlike other highly strung Irish comedians, he delivers his material in a style that suggests he may have a hammock strung up backstage. The crowd seems to reflect his laid-back attitude, laughing in friendly outbursts rather than machine gun hysterics. Although he’s not a must see on my list, Jimeoin’s lyrical charm still had me smiling and shaking my head.

Text messages range from gushy sentimentality (‘I am the coral to your ocean, darling.’) to pointless everyday observations (‘I’m having a sore boob day.’). It’s an excellent formula for improv, which requires random themes to intersect with random characters in an unscripted narrative. The comedy lies in the absurd storylines that unfold, as well as the cliched and flawed nature of the ‘instant’ characters.

As a long-time fan of improv, I’ve seen enough shows to differentiate between an average performance and an awesome performance. Unfortunately the caliber of this year’s cast fell well short of last year’s, but that said, the audience had no such yardstick and laughed solidly for an hour.

With a rotating cast of eight, 160 Characters includes Monique Dykstra, Joshua Lawson, Brett Wood and Geoff Paine. Keyboard accompaniment is provided by Gep Blake, whose atmospheric music helps to underpin the mood of each sketch. If, like me, you’re tired of ’staged’ spontaneity and would like some genuine improvised comedy, Umbrella Revolution is the place to find it. It’s also a fine place to catch a cold (as I discovered) so rug up now or drug up later.

If you saw the Easter Monday Short Film Festival screening (plagued by projector issues, disgruntled audience members and rapid exits) you may have been underwhelmed. However, the Awards Night screening was blessed with a sense of pomp and ceremony. Our most convivial host, Brian Nankervis, did a sterling job of warming the crowd up and helping the event flow smoothly (if only he had been at every screening). There was also a sense of Melburnian pride, adding to the receptiveness of the audience, and the backdrop of the Yarra through the stunning BMW Edge ‘walls’ certainly didn’t hurt.

Whilst the 16 films showed very different approaches, here are the reactions in order of screening: giggles, existential titters, raucous laughter, snickers, guffaws, chuckles, concerned amusement, hysteria, sniggers, hoots, cackles, gasps for air, gross out noises, chortles, belly laughs and, finally, awkward silence. The very respectable judging panel certainly had their work cut out for them!

The faux Oscars-style 1980s retrospective of comedic shorts, used in lieu of ‘waiting music’, added a rather amusing touch of class to proceedings.

Congratulations to all the prize winners:
Losing Face: CAE Encouragement Award
Carmichael and Shane: The People’s Choice Award & Nova Cinema’s (Runner Up) Award
Jonathon Livingstone CEO: The COMEDY CHANNEL Best Picture Award.

Let’s hope this fine event continues to support and encourage all film-makers who have the guts to get out there and do their thing to get punters laughing.

There is a real sense of conversation to this show, as though you’ve just met Fiona at the pub and she’s decided to confess her most humiliating moments to you. The audience can really relate to O’Loughlin’s awkward situations but breathe a collective sigh of relief that she is the one who has, in fact, lived them. Throughout her performance, O’Loughlin keeps the audience at a constant giggle level, which is regularly interspersed with big laughs.

She posses quite a unique delivery that despite the gravity of some of her topics stills keeps the humour present and alive. The audience is taken on a journey through Fiona’s experiences from Alice Springs to Rome and from infant race relations to a grandfather with roving hands. All these varied topics are delivered with the same unabashed honesty that leaves Fiona playing the fool. I look forward to next year’s show to see what embarrassment and humiliation Fiona has put herself through during the course of the year.

I walked out pleasantly surprised but for different reasons. It would be misleading to approach the show expecting some of the world’s finest comic talents.?? Instead, you’ll meet an assembly of talented – and bizarre – street performers, like a young man from a town called Penguin who learnt how to swallow swords over the internet (Is there anything you can’t learn over the web?).

The show’s linchpin is the seasoned comic and magician Nick Nickolas – think a slightly steadier Ozzy Osbourne plus magic – who, as the master of ceremonies, gives each performer their deserved rev up. Nickolas is a natural showman, as dry as sticks but undoubtedly beguiling.

The rest of the show is a bit of hit-and-miss. The best of the nine acts find a balance between tricks and quips, such as New Zealander Tony Roberts and Philadelphia lad Tim Motley. The others try but don’t stray too far from their comfort zones; that is, what most of us might find, excruciatingly uncomfortable (lifting beer kegs with one’s nipples, for example). While moments of head scratching marvel and stomach churning nausea do punctuate the show, the laughs rest firmly with Nickolas.

Coney Island Comedy has its fair share of potential. But if Coney Island Comedy is their goal, then more practice with the microphone instead of the juggling pins should be on the cards.

This concept leans towards comedy that is even less structured than its closest comparison theatresports, and this is both a blessing and a curse for the show. When it works it’s hilarious stuff, bizarre and risqu‚àö?, but when a joke flounders the whole show can potentially grind to a halt. This is of course the nature of improvised comedy, and half the laughs can come from how a comedian deals with a joke that falls flat. And the Scrabble Unscripted cast do a fantastic job, making the most of the scenes that work and plowing through the ones that don’t with admirable self-deprecation and grim resolve.

Each comedian shines at different points in the show, but the real show stealer was Jordan Raskopoulos (‘The Ronnie Jones Half Hour’) whose quick wit and energetic characterisations often rescued a scene from floundering and brought the laughs.

Scrabble Unscripted is a must see show for fans of improvised comedy. It’s free wheeling nature lends it infinite potential and a very good chance of becoming one of the surprise hits of the Festival.

Sure, there was a fair amount of sexual innuendo, the seemingly obligatory imitation of a gay man and a couple of fine bogan impersonations. Refreshingly though, politics was not on the agenda. One act even used flash cards’quite a treat.

There could only be one winner though and this year’s champ was Hannah Gadsby from South Australia.

The show was truly a smorgasbord of the nation’s young comedic talents, with a side helping of the comedy stylings of Wil Anderson and Dave Callan, who himself won the first Raw Comedy Competition some 11 years ago. This was the perfect show for anyone wanting quick snippets of stand-up, the chance to get their face on the telly, and the ability to claim, in a few years time, that they were there before the winner was famous.

The musical possibilities of jazz and toys intrigued me. I thought of the brave contemporary territory created by Margaret Leng Tan and her toy pianos, of Architecture In Helsinki and instrument swapping.

Adam Simmons’ eight piece band are, indisputably, a solid jazz outfit that accessorise with and dabble in…toys.

When jazz did fuse with toy play, Adam called these ‘toy pieces’, the music and ambience was at its most fun, and, musically, the band at its most creative.

The audience delighted in the whimsy of toy pieces like ‘Circle’, a rhythmic sequence of swannee whistle with distinct plastic toy noises that defy spellchecker. This piece was all boinging, squeaking, chiming, screeching, tinkling, tweeting, rubber chicken bashing, miaowing and plastic trumpeting noises. The audience participated with distributed party blowers – Great! – a sound that resembled a child crying.

I couldn’t help wondering whether Adam and his band were part of a cunning ruse to inflict jazz on the very young. A kind of jazz version of ‘Do you want a sweetie little child’?

Each voice has a different personality, and while each was distinct, the character development was better in some than others. It was no coincidence that ‘Pierre’, the hilarious Libido, was the only named voice, as he really took on a life of his own. However, this had the effect of highlighting the fact that the other voices lacked the same caricature quality. This, along with the use of PowerPoint, occasionally left me with the impression that I was sitting in a very funny business meeting.

The narration was painfully honest and funny, demonstrating that Yianni doesn’t need to take on a character to be successful at stand-up. His organic, quirky humour puts the audience at ease.

That said, his four voices could provide him with a lifetime of stand-up material. With a little polish and bravado, Yianni’s Head could be a long term crowd puller and a conversation starter for therapists everywhere.

Luckily, the people behind Wonka! found the masters and interpreted them into their own hilarious show. It is the original film onscreen with live voice-over, sound effects and music. It’s a bit confusing at first, but don’t look towards the group of performers at front’they are just components of your home theatre set up. Rather, sit back in the comfortable chairs, watch the screen and go on a magical trip.

The Wonka! ride takes in zombies, alcoholic candy shop owners, Grandpa’s obsession with Batman, Charlie’s love of chimneys and his dangerous drug habit??and that’s just in the first ten minutes.

The voice-overs are on the money. When Willy Wonka opens his mouth to speak onscreen, the live voice is completely in sync, spitting out Wonka’s demented lines about Oompa Loompas or abusing his guests. It is both surreal and brilliant to watch. The scene hooking-up Beastie Boys rhymes must have taken forever to get right, and it is worth the ticket price alone.

My only gripe with Wonka! is that it is too funny. As I recovered from laughing fits, I kept missing the next five jokes. Take the trip to Wonka!

The show included a couple of songs that showcased Snelling’s singing talent and proved that he really could belt out a tune, but most of the set comprised of Wes and Steven trying to work out the best way to play their ‘hit single’. Should it be funky? More Sinatra-esque? Or a little Robbie Williams? This is where the comedy comes in. The interplay between the two musicians was fantastic to watch, as Steven was forced to stop playing over and over again to incorporate every whim that entered Snelling’s head, no matter how ridiculous. The two have great chemistry on stage, and that’s a good thing; for without, it this show wouldn’t work.

I strongly recommend this show to anyone after an inventive concept and a lot of good laughs.

The idea of a show based entirely on a Robbie Williams parody runs into trouble almost immediately. The inexplicable Mr. Williams has already diverted so much effort into self-parody that after seeing Trevor Major is…Throbbie Millions I’d decided it would be far funnier to see the man himself. Possibly sleeping.

Throbbie Millions is rather like the kind of show I’d expect on a P&O cruise: single entendre comedy about the hilarious capacity of the word ‘come’ to sound rude. Sorry, the nauseating capacity. The almost full house apparently composed of package tour bogans only added to the sense of dread’when the heckling reaches the standard of ‘What colour are my wife’s undies’? it’s class all the way, people. Poorly angled projected video and mistimed lighting cues only highlighted the sense of being trapped in a horrible Over-28s cruise to Ibiza, where you’d be trapped with them all again.

TGIF is upstairs at Tonik, a funky, cosy bar located in a quiet street in Kensington where you can definitely enjoy your night. The laid-back attitude was awesome, and the couches at the front of the room give off a comfortable feel. The set-up of the show was great, encouraging the audience to relax and take it easy.

The MC of the night Lach Ryan provides a light, funny interlude between the acts, bringing his own humour to the night.

Lou Pardi was the first comedian up, picking up on current world events. Pardi is in a show with Jacky Claff called Fran and Roxanne are Best Friends, which looks as if it could be worth catching based on her set.

Dave Thornton was another great comedian. He entertained us with his everyday humour, but what brought down the house was his Hughesy impersonation.

TGIF was a great laugh all round.

That being said, I don’t think I’m her target audience even though Tanya and I share similar upbringings (growing up in Australia with strong ties to an Italian heritage) because the stories were all too familiar to somebody like me and failed to hit the mark. Tanya does, however, manage to connect with her audience quite well using iconic childhood memories such as the canned food drives we all endured at Primary School.

Her use of Italian-Australian stereotypes is a bit tired, but her own personal slant and how she manages to tie it all in with risotto is a nice touch. There is an air of sincerity about her show that is refreshing to see at a Festival loaded with acts that are too sure of themselves; Tanya exudes a self-awareness that is appropriate for the material she presents to her audience. Though, at times, her delivery starts off casual and low-key and then shifts to a drawn-out emphatic statement for her key phrases or words in a somewhat-similar style to Judith Lucy.

I recommend seeing Tanya Losanno as a local talent who if given the right amount of attention and direction, could develop into a popular grassroots comedian, there’s a heap of potential here – plus you’ll get a cool sticker.

The evening began with former Giannopoulos cohort Simon Palomares. He skillfully worked the room, showing how laughing at people’s differences could unite them, regardless of background. This gave his routine relevance and depth. It’s a shame then that the same could not be said for the main attraction.

Tahir entered to an enthusiastic response. It’s clear he has many fans and an unstructured act that relied heavily on audience participation. This could have worked if Tahir possessed the wit or likeability to playfully engage with his audience, but sadly he did not. The night’s low point came when he stormed into the audience and rather aggressively interacted with a nine-year-old boy, leading one punter to accuse him of bullying.

Tahir retreated back on stage and attempted some jokes. These too often fell flat. His observation that the recent trials of Schappelle Corby and Michelle Leslie received such abundant media coverage because, ‘They’re hot,’ was hardly revealing.

He may be funny on Pizza, but on this occasion, Tahir failed to deliver.

Expect the mandatory gags about drugs (of any sort), murderers, how Melbourne stole the Grand Prix, and the inherent boredom of living in the city of churches and the resulting strange things the locals feel compelled to do.

Boasting a varying line-up of Adelaide comedians, many of whom have made the trek to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival for the very first time, this show guarantees diversity in both style and humour.

Craig Egan gives a punchy performance as MC, and Jarrod Fitch is a definite highlight. Combining natural ease with a confident routine, Fisch steals the show. Particularly fervent is his languid, tender ode to his childhood babysitter’s inappropriate sexual advances.

With the last few shows this coming weekend, and a promised supplemented line-up of various Adelaide comedians currently performing in the Festival, Something In The Water is a must do.

Although Australia is the world’s smallest continent, it is fairly sparsely populated, which can make travelling between major capital cities a particularly gruelling process when you have an almost pathological inability to catch a plane. But it can make for a very entertaining Comedy Festival show.

Nestled under Duckboard House, J bounces around on stage in what must be one of the smallest festival venues, in his well written, high energy 55 Minute National Tour. Accompanied by some very funny video material, which fills in the travel time storyline as he wings his way from Brisbane to Perth and places in between, J performs a collection of catchy tunes on his keyboard and delivers some biting political comedy to each of his audiences. (It was interesting to discover that Adelaide still rates as a destination on a national tour.).

J’s performance as the smooth, garish cabaret performer was hilarious; although, at times his slick keyboard playing overshadowed his brief attempts at straight stand-up, and occasionally made his song lyrics difficult to understand. With that said, I doubt you could find anyone in the audience who wasn’t glad they came on this Contiki Tour of Comedy.

The main problem is the delivery. Lead comedian Dave Ryan needs to bone up on his vocal skills, and his sidekick Diane Armstrong sounded terribly over-rehearsed and stilted. The show made use of an AV projector, which was left on ‘pause’ during the live action, filling the room with a low-pitched hum at all times. Some of the parodies were a bit outdated or obscure, and Armstrong’s jokes became quite gross towards the end. All up, I got the feeling that Ryan and Armstrong had gotten a bit ahead of themselves and put on a show before they were really ready.

Which is a shame because there was some promising material in there that would have fared better in more experienced hands. Some of the filmed sketches were quite amusing, albeit with terrible production values – muffled sound and bad camera angles. With Melbourne overflowing with film students, surely they could have found someone with the right equipment and technical skills? It got me wondering, if perhaps the folks at Jim’s Comedians might be better off concentrating on writing comedy and franchise out the performing to someone else.

His performance is an interactive game, where he tells eight tall tales and the audience is encouraged to guess which is a massive lie. As the show progresses, he records the crowd’s speculation on a faux blackboard with liquid chalk (a nice touch).

Jones is a pleasure to watch’he is refreshingly confident for a small-time comedian and is a likeable character with natural storytelling ability. There’s something a little bit Tony Martin-esque about his delivery, and the show’s vibe is similar to that of a slightly boozed share house chat involving a talented thespian and his housemates.

Most of the show is planned, yet Jones demonstrates his ability to improvise as he deals with both solicited and uninvited audience participation. Although his show was criminally unattended the night The Pun attended, all 12 of us were splitting our sides laughing. Even the drunken lout who was providing nonsensical (yet luckily non-threatening) commentary had a great time.

It is definitely worth braving the cold and the divey Exford Hotel for Seven True Stories and One Massive Lie. Jones is a genuinely funny comic’not at all cheesy, hammy or similar to any other kind of deli produce whatsoever.

Sam Simmons is all about quirky. He comes to a Pavarotti-style crescendo over chutney and presents nursery rhymes in a fashion your mother would be ashamed of. The Regent Room is an intimate venue, so the confidence that Simmons exudes bounces straight off the stage and lands unexpectedly in your lap. It all feels rather upfront, no matter how far back you’re sitting.

Directed by Alan Brough, this show is tailored to a specific kind of audience – the eccentric kind. You need to appreciate oddball comedy and embrace the notion of nonsense. Being of a sound and logical mind, I found this quite difficult; however, I was in the minority. The erotic moggy referenced in the title is both hilarious and disturbing. It’s just one of many kooky characters played convincingly by Simmons throughout the show.

If you’re looking for something different and disarming, this is the gig for you. Leave your logic at the door and laugh yourself loopy.

Direct from his day job at a paint store, Ian Messig plays MC to Cameron Marshall and Karl Chandler in a tiny theatrette at Loop bar. The show is very DIY, as the comedians also double as ticket collectors and ushers. It’s not the best comedy choice if you’re into dazzling colours and theme music’it’s more of a raw white light, blank backdrop, casual clothes affair.

Although this is amateur comedy, all three comedians avoided (for the most part) sinking to the cheap smut genre made popular by Elephant and Wheelbarrow-style jokesters. Marshall favoured a kind of gag-punchline observational humour, which drew from popular culture. Chandler played up the role of the downtrodden storyteller but has not quite perfected an illusion of sympathy-inspiring insecurity, occasionally portraying the real thing instead. Messig is to be applauded for sheer nerve – he sings joke lyrics to Sinatra’s ‘Chicago’ completely a capella.

All three of these dollar dazzlers have some strong material, but their delivery is often not powerful enough to induce the laughter they deserve. Just like Easter eggs, these guys are on special. Check them out if you’re into inexpensive local laughs.

Shore has the ultimate history in stand-up comedy; his father was comedian Sammy Shore, and his mother Mitzi owned the world famous Comedy Club in Los Angeles. Literally from birth, Shore was surrounded by the creme de la creme of comedic performers, and it seems that at least some of this has rubbed off on him after 30 years.

His style of comedy can only be described as offensive. Really offensive. It’s clear that Shore is open to any topic, regardless of taboo. From his in-depth instructional section on giving a good blow job to his rather candid opinions on child porn, Shore is a master at shock tactics, disgusting his audience whilst simultaneously keeping them on the edge of their seats.

For someone who has fallen from the height of popularity within Generation Y, Shore has a great humility and understanding of his position. Quick to take a self-reflexive stab at his former career, he uses his accomplishments and failures to his advantage, with some great material and an absolutely first-rate performance.

With great delivery, offensive substance with slightly too much emphasis on sex, Shore entertains like a creepy uncle that goes too far. You want to laugh at him, but you’re also worried about what that makes you.