Early a few weeks ago, I had the good fortune of finding out that Dylan Moran* was in the country – and more specifically, practically in my back-yard, hoeing up my beets and swearing at my mother’s bush lemon tree. I, both fortunately and unfortunately, found out this gem of knowledge on the first day of his tour in Brisbane. He was to be here for only four nights, Monday to Thursday, and I was in despair. What if there weren’t tickets? What if my internet decided to spontaneously combust? What if the QPAC decided to spontaneously combust? What if I decided to spontaneously combust?
“Women are like canoes, full of soup. At first everyone is suspicious but then everyone wants one.” — Dylan Moran
“Two young, fit, healthy attractive people in love? There’s nothing worse to look at in the world.” — Dylan Moran
With this in mind, the boyo and I managed, UNDER INTENSE STRAIN, to obtain tickets to his show “Yeah, yeah” and, not surprisingly, we scored tickets at the very back of the Concert Hall. Eventually, hand-in-hand with a cavalcade of drama, we managed to make it to the QPAC in one piece.
Now Mr. Moran has a strict “No cameras, no phones” policy, and rightly so. A woman seated up near the front made the silly decision to keep her phone on – and how rude indeed she was because, in her mortification, she subsequently took ages to find it in her handbag. Mr. Moran deftly picked her up on it and tortured her conscious with a few jabs and derailing his line of thought so much that he called a recess. In any case, this state of affairs turned out to be better than the subsequent night’s show, in which a young woman managed to blow-out-biscuits all over the the front of the hall within the first few minutes of the show, causing the entire space to be filled with the acrid stench of vomit. How. Mortifying.
“So here are some foolproof recipes for those of you who understand the true function of food.
Bean Treat: Gingerly pour four fluid oz of beans or something into a jug. Cry. Eat the beans from the jug and pour the rest from the can down your throat. N.B. These taste better if they belong to somebody else in your house.
Pain au Dunk: Fists of bread, rent from the loaf and dunked into anything runnier than bread. Should eat at least six of these because…you should. Don’t toast the bread. Toast is cookery.” -Dylan Moran
There was a woman, seated not far from the backs of our heads that kept chortling heartily at inappropriate moments and only at the “Men are slobs” sort of jokes. Now, I’m all for a big ol’ belly-ripper of a laugh, but this laugh sounded more like an industrial vacuum sucking at all available dust motes and cats with gusto and it filled up silent gaps with the most intense laughter.
THERE IS ALWAYS ONE.
* You may recognise him from iconic productions such as “Black Books” and general awesomeness.