I did my interview with the intriguing Bob Schmidt of Flogging Molly. Nice bloke, a man of passion and conviction. I should be doing my write up soon.
Last night, my old mate Catchy (who is also embarking on a personal development project akin to my own) took me to the Comics Lounge. I have never seen such a thorough validation of the question: "If you put a hack in a comedy club, does that make him a comic?" I revile snobbery, but this performance was so intellectually dim, it actually laid my critical faculties into dormancy.
Russell Gilbert was the emcee for the night. Completely and utterly loathsome, his attempted quick-witted observations were merely statements of fact glossed over with puerile semi-shocking antics, making him seem all the more desperate for a laugh. He recycled moribund material, expecting us not to know any better, and when murmurs indicated imminent tanking, he resorted to shoving cigarettes up his nose. A truly crass and horrible man. He even hugged me. I can't wash the stain of his cigarette-tarred breath from my mind. The only standout was an Indonesian comic who was the only one that didn't devolve into dick jokes or cliche for a quick laugh. I said to Catch after the show, "If that girl took you up on that date (I was his backup, you see) she would never ever talk to you again."
According to the website, Russell Gilbert is:
"[I]s one of the country’s hardest-working comedians. The veteran star of television, radio and stand-up comedy is always switched on, upbeat and effervescent when it comes to performing – and is excited about taking a leap into the singing arena."
I can assure you, he is none of those things. I am very much looking forward to the Comedy Festival this year. You know, because I know whoever I'll end up seeing will actually be funny.