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Some people think that to be a comedian, you need to take drugs, you don’t need them, what you need are jokes, but they help. Its like running a marathon, to run a marathon you don’t need shoes, what you need are feet, but they help. Im not condoning drug taking; people are different and people’s bodies operate on different things. Some cars run on diesel, some cars run on vegetable oil, if your Keith Richards' car you run on heroin, everyone has their fuel. The fuelled up experience I had occurred a year ago when Kevin Parker of Tame Impala asked me to perform some of my comedy with them at Big Day Out, the day ended with Snoop Dogg and I smoking blueberry blunts whilst Liam Gallagher of Oasis proceeded to do what he did best, be a bit of a twat. 


          I spent the night before drinking whilst rehearsing my lines, as I was too nervous to do it sober. I woke up in the afternoon and tried to persuade myself it was morning somewhere in the world. I rolled off the couch, the leather cushions stuck to my back because it was 36 degrees outside and I was sweaty. I looked like a turtle someone had tried to turn into a chair. I felt like shit and I was late. My room mate saw how stressed I was and filled my hands with coffee and cigarettes. Breathe in…. Breathe out… Coffee… Breathe in…. Breathe out... Coffee…Repeat.  That was my yoga for the day done. I’m calm again and everything i rehearsed the night before flooded back into my brain, just like the toxins.


         Opened the car door. Found the right song. Put my seat belt on. Priorities. For some reason I was feeling a little strange, a little lucid. I've arrived at BDO and I'd forgot my pass. Standard. 

“You’re not coming in here mate…” said the security guard, who looked so stupid and pumped full of steroids, I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught his reflection and tried to kicked himself out of the festival. 

“Im the comedian opening for Tame Impala.” I was wearing a three piece purple suit carrying 15 pink frisbees… as if I needed a pass to get in. The get-up was quite self evidence. 

“You’re a comedian hey? Proove it,” I hate security guards.

“Ok… Just stand over here, so the sun isn't in your eyes and ill do one of my bits…” I moved the guard into the shade sp he was about 5 meters away from the gate - he was clueless to what happened next.

“Knock Knock?” I asked

“Who’s there?” he replied unimpressed. 

“Not me” I yelled as I ran, laughing at my own joke, through the now unmanned entry. 




          I got about 50 meters before a monster of a man tackled me to the ground. “That ones for Jeff!” he spat. I didn’t know who Jeff was, but i can only assume he was one of the security guards I hit in the face with a frisbee. My Dad told me throwing frisbees would never help my career, he was wrong. There were 5 guys that tried to tackle me, the first, I was able to dodge because he weighed about the same as the stage. He fell over and for a split second I considered standing on his belly to tell a joke, but I was busy. The 2nd guy was 30 meters away from me, I threw a circular disc and remember thinking “fuckkkk, I feel pretty bad, I had no idea the damage a $2 frisbee could do." The 3rd and 4th guys looked like Arnold Swazaniga and Dani Deveto in Twins. I was more confused than intimidated. Frisbee in the left hand. Frisbee in the right hand. DOUBLE HEADSHOT. I felt like a goddam assassin. The 5th guy sat in his chair, he waved at me and I waved back, he took another bite of his $45 burger and stayed seated. I spent so much time wondering how that guy kept his job, I didn’t see the last gym junkie coming. I don’t know how it happened but my face was thrown into my own groin. Turns out, if a 130kg man jumps on your back, you can reach your dick with your mouth.


         “Err... what are you guys doing?" Jay Watson, Tame Imapala’s drummer, asked. “Rory stop playing chasey with Paul Blart Mall Cop, we’ve got shit to do.” That strange feeling I had earlier grew and my legs were feeling a little weak, my vision started to blur but I shook it off assuming my brain was just a little loose from the tackle.

        Jay pulled me up and walked me towards our dressing room. I looked back at the cartoon like carnage and the confused primitive men scratching there heads whilst I giggle “As if that was real.” An African American dude, named Ali, stopped Jay and I. “Mah Nigga!” I thought 'Holy shit did a black dude just call me the N-word?' Life completed. He continued, “you laid those cracker ass motherfuckers out, that was some trill shit homie, holla at a brother later and we’ll get faded on some loud shit” I wasn’t really sure what he meant and i didn’t have time to ask him but I decided once I came off stage I should definitely find that dude. 


         I was about to go on stage, I felt really weird, really good, but really weird. My breathing was heavy, I was sweating like a glass blowers ass. Someone rolled me up a $20 note, because I wasn’t famous enough to be given $100. I railed some phramaphutical grade prescription speed aka ADHD pills and instantly it felt like someone had right clicked the folder in my mind and sorted all my files by date. My upstairs was great but my hand shook more than Michael J Fox with a spray paint can. I kept making Bruce Lee ‘Whatcha" noises as I karate chopped up my marijuana because your body is a temple and you need balance. 


         I’m on. I felt alive! To be on stage and to be loved is soul affirming! I’m Off. It always feels quicker than it actually is, i guess that adds to the beauty of performing live. I don’t remember the gags I used but I do remember hearing a lot of relentless cheering and laughter so I can only assume it went as planned. I get extremely nervous before bigger gigs, I know some comics throw up before they perform, but I didn’t have anything to throw up because eating is for rich sober people.


         Tame Impala had an amazing set. Musicians are so much cooler than comics, they create ballads about their great achievements and their sorrows. Comedians talk about that time they shit themselves, how small their dicks are and how its impossible for them to have a healthy relationship because their parents did irreversible damage to them as a child. 


         Speaking of children, I met Mac Miller and he looks like one. I overheard him hitting on Group Love’s Hannah Hooper. He walked over to her and with his best Joey Triviani impression said “Heyyyy, how you doing?” He was definitely on something if he thought that line was going to work. I just wanted to yell at him. "Dude, you’re a fucking rapper. YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO QUOTE “FRIENDS”” 


        I stumbled around until I found the Tame boys: Kevin, Jay and Cam, drinking. So I joined them. We had a fair few beers and started filming stop motion short movies with bottle caps and champagne corks on Kev's iPhone. According to Instagram, "The Adventures of Captain Cork and The Bottle Shop Tops Boys" won best plot line for the afternoon, with a special mention going to 

"The Sailling Tales of The SS VB’s;” which was a group of short stories set inside empty Victoria Bitter bottles, that we turned into a fleet of 'cargo ships' where cigarette sailors floated in to exchange tales of the VB sea.



        Ali, came over “Fool follow me, we gunna roll up.” Kev, Cam and Jay continue their film making careers and added more bottles to their fleets as I followed this magical man. 


           While following Ali, my phone goes off, it was a message from my room mate. “Hey Rory, totally forgot to mention it this morning… but I put some LSD in your coffee. Have a nice trip. Steve.” “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…fuck.” Well that explains a lot. I realise I just performed in front of 15000+ people on acid, I started to freak out, I’d never taken it before. I looked up from my phone in panic to see a door with a star on it and with the words “SNOOP DOGG." I must of been tripping hard. Ali walked me in and standing taller than I imagined, singing “Is this love” as loud as he possible could, wearing sunglasses inside, was Mr. Dogg. He put his hand out to shake and I knew there was no way I couldn’t handle this situation. Snoop Dogg was trying to shake my hand and all I was trying to do was categorise the days events into was real and what wasn’t. 

         This handshake wasn’t a white, plain and simple Frank Sinatra handshake. This was some ghetto, rhythmic, secret, Wesley Snipes martial arts, fist pump shit. It didn’t make it easier when I looked at Snoops hand and i thought he had 7 fingers. Thanks Steve.There was only one thought going through my head now… “Whatever you do, don’t fuck up this handshake!” The world stopped spinning; I leant in towards Mr. Dogg, our hands collided with a pop like a new years eve count down. Pop. Tap. Slap. Leant in. Elbows into the chest. Back out. Up. Down. Clicked the fingers. Nailed it. He smiled, we got a couple of photos together, he passes me a blueberry blunt and ends the interaction with a sentence even more incomprehensible than Ali’s. This was either the greatest moment of my life or the best acid of all time, regardless, I'm pretty sure I came in my pants. 


        I wish I could say that we hung out all night and we smoked together but the encounter was brief. I walked out of the room, smiling more than if it was raining blow jobs.  I lit the gutted cigar with Jason “Jay” Mehler of Beady eye, we kicked back and he told me of his travels, his life and how to create the perfect Philly Cheese Steak, because talking food while smoking is essential.


        Liam Gallanger, Oasis leader and front man of Beady Eye comes over. His head was bouncing around on top of his shoulders as though its was half a second in front of his body. “Oi, give us a bitta that! Love me a cigar I do” I really enjoyed passing him the obviously well disguised blunt and watching him cough. He’d drank too much and everyone knows; grass before beer your in the clear, beer before grass, you’re on your ass, everyone knows this. Except for Liam. The day ended beautifully as Jason and I walked off into the sunset, giggling at Liam Gallarger as he threw up violently in a bush. 


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