Josie Long's Supper Club Bake-Off

Just some pictures to share with you from a highly pleasant Saturday afternoon in the Bosco Tent for Josie Long’s Supper Club Bake-Off. Mostly an excuse to make, talk about, joke about and eat cakes of all colours, ethnic backgrounds, sexual persuasions and dietary requirements it was also a nice chance to meet some of the folks who’ve been making us laugh these past few weeks.

The rules of attendence were simple; bake cake, bring cake, get in cheap, share cake with cake-loving strangers and comedians. Mrs Custard knocked up her world-beating brownies, Ms K made her trademark lime and coconut cake whilst I brought a particularly luminescent batch of mint custard. Not cake admittedly but it got me past the guards.

Ms Josie Long, gluten intolerant comedian extraordinaire

Josie’s enthusiastic hosting duties (‘just look at that fucking cake!’) were punctuated by some cake-themed routines from guest comedians including Maeve Higgins, Josh Earl and the gorgeous Sarah Millican who signed my illegally imported cheese and onion pasty paper bag with the legend ‘I miss Gregg’s too’.

Mr Josh Earl being berated by a disgruntled pirate

Cake judging was undertaken by a mystery-celebrity panel that included a surprise appearance from Mint Custard favourite Isy Suttie (who was completely lovely afterwards and also signed my pasty bag) and possibly included Claudia O’Doherty and Nick Coyle. I may be wrong though – they were disguised with elaborate yellow cardboard crowns.

the Mayor of Cake holds court

Looking back it was perhaps inevitable that the awards would be dominated by young ladies in cardigans and vintage dresses and too much time for craft on their hands. Still I will say that judging processes based on looks rather than taste set dangerous precedents for progressive ideologically-orientated comedians. It’s what we are on the inside that counts isn’t it? Of course it is (although personally speaking what I was on the inside, at least a few hours on Saturday evening, was full of cake).

the winner - muffin/brownie burger treats!

Scrabble cake and Josie-inspired Hallmark card message cake

'best effort' winner - note spectacular bean juice

Josie Long's Be Honourable is on at the Bosco Tent until Sunday. Read her Melbourne Comedy Festival Blog here

Ivan Brackenbury's Hospital Radio Roadshow, Elephant and Wheelbarrow, Melbourne

I’m sure I’m not the first festival virgin to ask myself what it is that makes me laugh. Many years back Mrs Custard and I watched Jam, the television adaptation of Chris Morris’ late-nineties graveyard shift radio show, Blue Jam. Disturbing themes (child abuse, murder, incest, corrupt medical practitioners, sexual deviance), inventive use of sound, distorted lenses and uncomfortable camera angles and amazing performances by some of the best comic actors in television (including Amelia Bullmore, Julia Davis, Kevin Eldon and Mark Heap) created something fiercely intelligent that was as frightening as it was funny; more horrific than hilarious. I loved it... but I didn’t laugh much.

The same week we watched Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere, Peter Kay’s mostly average spin-off from Phoenix Nights about a couple of bouncers touring the UK in a campervan. Big but not clever, Max and Paddy take the all the lowest common denominators from its parent show (porn, drinking, shagging, going on the pull… more porn) and proudly project them on their giant knock-off plasma screen telly. One episode featured a farting pig, which – and I’m not proud of myself here – killed me. In a heap on the floor with tears streaming from my eyes I was left wondering why a badly-squeezed whoopee cushion and the line ‘how dare you, this is our mobile home’ could paralyse me in a way that three hours of immaculately crafted cutting edge comedy could not.

I left the Elephant and Wheelbarrow last night in a similar state after seeing Ivan Brackenbury's Hospital Radio Roadshow. In three week’s of MICF shows I’ve seen clever, inspired and inspiring, witty, well-observed, surreal, original, sharp, occasionally flat, lots of funny, and a fair bit of hilarious - but nothing that left me with tears drying on my face from an hour’s worth of laughing my bottom off. Nothing that is, until dear Ivan.

Moulded in the same factory as the Wiggles and Eighties UK children’s television star Timmy Mallet, hospital radio DJ Ivan Brackenbury is an over-enthusiastic camp man-child with a microphone, a laptop full of jingles and chart hits and a few community service announcements to get through. Dressed in dirty tracksuit pants (pulled up too high), baseball cap and grubby self-promoting t-shirt, Ivan broadcasts his show from behind his temporary console, alternately dancing, playing pocket billiards and picking his nose during songs.

Gags mostly revolve around song dedications with Ivan playing Kenny Loggin’s Footloose to someone with a dislocated ankle or cheering up a self-harmer with The First Cut is the Deepest. Throughout the evening the patients’ back-stories become increasingly more elaborate (‘contrived?’ Ivan innocently asks the audience at one point) but surprisingly the inevitable corny pay-offs still hit home 99% of the time.

It’s crude and brash and it’s all been done before to different degrees, notably by Alan Partridge, Smashie and Nicy, and even in a hospital by the League of Gentlemen’s Mike King, but never quite so relentlessly (I lost count of the number of song snippets) or with so much infectious energy. Helped by the intimacy of the venue Ivan’s child-like naivety allows him to interact with and enthuse the audience in ways that a regular stand-up show might not - although his creator Tom Binns is occasionally present such as when Ivan admits that he’s not real, poignantly wiggling his fingers through his empty glasses frames to prove his point. Such moments - and there are many of them amongst the rapid-fire gags - add beautiful depth to the performance; turning a 2D cartoon into a 3D person.

There are a few videos of Ivan on You Tube if you’re interested, but I’d recommend avoiding them and getting yourself a ticket to see him in the podgy flesh. To the casual observer Ivan Brackenbury's Hospital Radio Roadshow may seem to have all the subtlety of a farting pig (and if that’s your thing then you’ll be fine) but Ivan has something for everyone in the room and you’d be a big daft ‘apeth not to find out what it is. Why do we laugh? Because it’s funny, you silly billy.

Pi in the Sky

Calling all scientists. I need your help in a quest of utmost importance that could change life in the antipodes forever. Come Bunsen, come Beaker, Come Doc Emmet Brown. Come Spock, Professor Frink and your pal, Doctor Nick. Come Doctor David Banner, but don’t get angry – for it is your scientific brain and not your enormous green hands that I need.*

For what purpose do I hear you cry? What is my sudden urgent need for the way of the petri dish and test tube after years of wanton neglect? Science, my needs are simple but they are magnificent; I need you to clone a cheese pasty. But wait. Hold on. Don’t turn away with a tut and a swirl of your pristine white lab coat (for one it’s dangerous in a lab with so many open flames and glass equipment). This is no ordinary fromage-filled baked savoury product – this is a Gregg’s three cheese and onion pasty.

‘Hold on there Mint Custard my dear chap’, I hear you say, ‘cloning of a pasty? Why don’t you just buy one?’ 'Well, like, duh, I eloquently retort – they don’t sell Gregg’s pasties in Australia do they? If they did I’d be happier about 17% more of the time and an equivalent amount wider in the waist. If they did I wouldn’t pine for them like a newborn puppy separated from its mother. If they did I wouldn’t beg overseas visitors to try and smuggle them back in their hand luggage – because even a 24-hour old cold Gregg’s cheese and onion pasty that’s been squashed under a mountain of duty free plonk and used travel stockings is still better than any pasty in Australia.

And of course it’s illegal (no, thank you over-zealous Australian quarantine laws) which means that no one ever tried – until now. Kind of. Because one kind soul at my work who happens to hail from the North East took pity on me and, doing the best she could, successfully smuggled her used pasty bag on the plane after indulging in some last minute snackage at the 24-hour Gregg’s at Newcastle airport. But the news, dear science, is that the bag WAS NOT EMPTY. Buried in its depths was a luxuriant amount of slightly crusty illegal pasty crumbs. In short, pasty DNA.

Now I may have no idea how science works, but I have been Questacon and more importantly I have seen the important bits of Jurassic Park (though not the whole film because I got scared of the velociraptors). If Richard Attenborough can clone a walking crunching biting dinosaur then surely science, surely, I can indulge my baked-turophilia down under?

Science, I may have shunned you aged 16 for the allure of the language lab and the promise of attractive mademoiselles but now I recognise the error of my ways and come crawling to you cap in hand begging for your nerdy expertise. Help me. Scientists of the world, hear my plea. Join with me and together we can share melty cheesy pasty goodness.

* I did try and think of some famous fictional lady scientists but as already explored by Astrodyke there aren’t any really… are there? Boo..

Josh Earl, the Swiss Club

My mother is a terrible cook. I love her dearly, but even she’d admit she shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen. As a child my favourite meals were cooked by my Grandma or (despite what Jamie Oliver says) lovely dinner ladies called Maureen and Dot with friendly soft faces and bingo wings. When my Grandpa died I made the long pilgrimage home to Yorkshire only to be served up a welcome-home meal of microwave chips (another UK culinary triumph of technology over taste) that made look back on 24 hours of aeroplane food with unexpected fondness.

Josh Earl loves his mum too, but whilst mine was burning carrots, his was busy in her Tasmanian kitchen working her way through the 100 plus cakes detailed in the Australian Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book. Equipped with a scary combination of enthusiasm and talent it would seem her raison (and indeed the occasional raisin) d’être was to ensure no significant Earl family milestone passed without an accompanying novelty cake.

Tapping into the excitement that people normally reserve for that drunken conversation recalling kids-television-programs-from-when-they-was-little, our evening is spent basking in a shared warm glow of cakey nostalgia as Mr Earl pays homage to the lo-fi and gloriously naff joys of every single cake through song.

Using slides and actual photos of his mum’s creations we see confectionary-laden swimming pools, castles, football pitches, primitive PCs, old school calculators, trains, trucks, ducks and - as Josh politely describes them ‘enormous black wangs’. Said wangs didn’t feature in the official Women’s Weekly range - they were the product of his mother’s entrepreneurial ventures into hen’s party catering – but they clearly left an equally deep impression on the young Josh.

Particular delights are had deconstructing some of the book’s stranger decorating tips including the rights and wrongs of combining chips (as in crisps) with icing sugar and in one case – for a cricket oval cake – the dangers of Maltesers given an inedible coated of red nail varnish.

Elsewhere Josh gets distracted by a phone call with his parents about their neighbour’s digestive system and writes letters (on a typewriter cake, naturally) to the publishers of a recently updated version of cake bible to complain that the designs are too elaborate. He’s trying to mobilise a campaign to have the original book republished, including enlisting the help of Ita Buttrose, the former editor of the Women’s Weekly. It doesn’t seem to matter to the crowd that he’s had no success at all and the crowd are just happy to have a chance to talk about cake.

I’m not a big fan of musical comedy but I enjoyed Josh’s songs which didn’t smack of ‘I-wish-I-was-a-pop-star-instead.’ My favourite was a moment of beautifully controlled chaos in which Josh traded insults with a disgruntled pirate rendered in cake form with a solitary ear, mismatched hair and an eye with two eyebrows (‘garr! the only time you need two eyebrows on one eye is to express your surprise at having two eyebrows on one eye… arrr!’) Overall the balance between songs and stand-up was just right and there was even room for some Lime Champions-style audio trickery which was a nice treat for folks such as I.

Given my liking for Lime Champions it was always on the cards that I was going to enjoy tonight. What was nice was sharing that enjoyment with a room full of strangers who were all happily digesting what Josh had to say. Of all the shows I’ve seen at the festival this year Josh Earl versus the Australian Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book is the one which has elicited the most love from the crowd – proving that – for Josh Earl at least, you can have your cake and eat it.

Click here for my pre-festival interview with Josh. He will also be bringing his cakey expertise to Josie Long's Supperclub Bake Off tomorrow at 3.30 in City Square.

Shaun Micallef and Steven Curry in Good Evening, Melbourne Comedy Theatre

I’m a reasonably honest chap, so in the interests of disclosure I feel compelled to admit something upfront that might otherwise lead to accusations of impartiality re this, my tuppence-worth of thoughts about Good Evening. Without further delay, here it is: I, dear people, am addicted to Cooper Black font. Shocking form I know, but I’d rather you knew.

I find it cute and clever and slightly cuddly and sexy and a bit 1920s and a lot 1960s. Cooper Black makes the most mundane words seem fun and cool and stylish all at the same time. If I had my way I would introduce rules to bring about its greater use, especially in government documents, religious texts and telegrams from the army about missing loved ones. It is no over-exaggeration to say I love Cooper Black.

In this context it is possible that you might disbelieve anything I have to say about Good Evening - Shaun Micallef and Steven Curry’s tribute to the sketches of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore. It is after all a show which is not shy in its use of Cooper Black to promote its joys on flyers, posters, buses and websites and I am obviously susceptible. Still hear me out, because there are some things you need to know.


Firstly Shaun Micallef is ace. I’ve said this before and having finally seen him live I only feel this more keenly. If you don’t like him you probably don’t deserve to (and probably aren’t reading this anyway). There are few people who can make me laugh just by walking into a room. Micallef he do dat (something that no amount of series of Talkin’ Bout My Generation will change).

Secondly Steven Curry is wonderful in this show. A gifted character actor, he captures Dudley Moore’s slightly subservient relationship with Cook without resorting to pastiche or crass impressions. Good Evening nicely updates this imbalance with digs at Micallef’s ego and Curry’s (relative) obscurity, some of which raise bigger laughs than the sketches themselves.

Thirdly, not knowing many Cook/Moore sketches was actually a blessing. I only knew two and of those I thought one didn’t quite match to expectation. Like with the American version of The Office it was far more rewarding to forget all about the originals and just enjoy what was going on.

Fourthly the set was beautiful. I liked the feel of the Comedy Theatre (though we were very near the front) and the stage - a cross between an MGM musical set and a Morecambe and Wise show, with giant art deco letters spelling out the word GOOD - was perfectly suited to the content of show.

Finally, there is no denying that the production was a class above many of the shows at this year’s festival. This is not to suggest that it was funnier or that I’d want all shows to be like this, but given the $40 plus price of the tickets you definitely get your money’s worth. You do have to share the room with lots of older snobbier folks though who clearly won’t be going to any other shows this month.

Anyway, in summary Good Evening = a good evening, and that’s not just me putting on a brave font.

Important Choc Top Update: following my dissing of the choc tops at the Astor in Saint Kilda it’s worth noting that the choc tops at the Comedy Theatre were high class. Crunchy waffle cones, creamy vanilla and a thick layer of chocolate made for happy little Custards. Bravo Comedy Theatre (though $4 for a 250ml bottle of water is fucking preposterous…)

Jon Richardson, This Guy at Night, Powder Room, Melbourne Town Hall

Fittingly for an event with venues scattered through Melbourne’s Chinatown picking out what to see at the Melbourne Comedy Festival is a bit like going out for Yum Cha. Most shows are relatively cheap and come in pleasant bite-sized lengths, meaning you can sample two or three a night before you're full. The names on the comedy menu outside the Melbourne Town Hall can be as strange and unrecognisable as the fare served up from the restaurant trolley, and sometimes it’s easier to just fill up your plate and hope you find something tasty.

One delicious dim-sim of a show is Jon Richardson's This Guy at Night which we took a punt on despite its terrible pun of a name. A former BBC Radio 6 DJ and winner of the Best Breakthrough Act at the 2008 Chortle Awards I hadn’t heard of him prior to the festival but overseas reviews tempted me in.

Continuing the Chinese food allegory far longer than is necessary or pleasant, Richardson in the flesh is sweetly sour. He may describe himself as a grumpy perfectionist misanthrope but in truth he comes across as anything but. Whilst unquestionably funny I initially found it hard to reconcile the glass-mostly-empty OCD-like behaviours being related with the smartly dressed, friendly young man on stage. I wasn’t alone, and even Jon noticed the reaction in the room, admitting that he had never felt so out of control a crowd in his entire life. True or not it didn’t bother him for long and as the hour progressed the crowd clicked with his self-depreciating style.

Using an increasingly messed up world as a backdrop This Guy at Night turns the mirror back on Richardson, drawing laughs from his recognised lack of coping skills. Irrational anger at situations he can’t change, punishing himself for other people’s behaviours, hiding away from the world with only satellite TV and a dart board for company – this is Jon’s world, but one that by the end is strangely attractive and logical. Always interesting and mostly very funny (a few unadvised attempts at Australian accents aside - what is it with comedians and accents?) This Guy At Night proved well worth a stab of our chopsticks and despite what he may think (and unlike the dumplings I had for tea) Jon Richardson leaves a nice aftertaste.

Laura Davis, Ants Don't Sleep, Trades Hall

Ah Good Friday - the absolute worst of the public holidays because you feel guilty for having fun. Thank goodness then for Laura Davis for giving me an excuse not to sit in front of my television screen for 17 hours straight, get out the house and smile for a bit.

Winner of the Triple JJJ Raw Recruit Comedy Prize in 2008, Laura is a comedian from Western Australia currently performing her latest show Ants Don't Sleep at the Trades Hall in Carlton. Described as an opportunity to see Laura 'introduce science to surrealism and take them both out for ice cream' the shock news was that Ants Don't Sleep is surprisingly light on ants. This is a shame because as you'll see from our pre-show interview below, I got a little carried away with ant-related questions. Sorry about that...

Anyway, the nocturnal habits of ants are just some of a veritable menagerie of fauna-related facts related throughout an evening dedicated to the natural world. Clearly equipped with a special cupboard in her head used solely for storing small animal factoids, Laura peppers Ants Don’t Sleep with Ripley's Believe it Or Not moments from the animal kingdom and practical tips for humans such as how to stare down a duck.

She gamely puts these skills to the test by instigating a game in which the audience are challenged to name random creatures so she can big up their particulars too. This brave piece of audience participation was a charming but a bit hit and miss; the facts were impressively recalled but not always funny and the Good Friday crowd was a little shy. Still, our host had enough one-liners and lo-fi charm to mostly pull it off.

She may still be a little raw around the edges but there is much to like about Laura Davis. Her enthusiasm for her topics - including inter-state aquarium espionage, an irrational dislike of iguanas and why cows need stairlifts – and a nicely awkward delivery meant that the calendar year's dullest public holiday finished a little bit brighter for some of us.

Hi Laura, thanks for talking to Mint Custard. How the hell are you? I am very well, thank you Mint Custard.

What in a word is your show about? Animals.

What in a foreign word is your show about? Djur.

How many people are involved in putting on your show each night? Well….Mostly me. But there’s also my flyerer ladies, my tech lady, my door lady and publicist lady. There wouldn’t be a show without all those ladies.

You’ve been a regular on the comedy circuit for a couple of years now – are comedians a supportive, warm and cuddly bunch or ruthless ego-driven narcissists? I think it really depends on what mood you catch them in. I have a lot of friends that are comedians who are very cuddly and supportive. There are ruthless ego-driven narcissists but it’s less common than you might expect and even then they are almost always highly insecure ruthless ego-driven narcissists.

Your show is called Ants Don’t Sleep. Bad news for ant manchester manufacturers and hammock makers? Terrible news. That and the GFC has practically sent them under.

Apparently there are a few hundred ants for every human. Clearly they can take us when they want. What are they waiting for? I really think that you are underestimating yourself, Mint Custard. And the human race. Yes there are more of them than there are of us, but I still reckon we’ve got the upper hand (with an opposable thumb on it). Watch the movie Marabunta if you can find it. It is hilarious but it's not meant to be - it is a serious horror film. Ants drive a helicopter into the side of a mountain. Terrible... and I am pretty sure that they use plastic spiders instead of ants in the shots. If you can find a copy of it please send it to me. I would love to watch it again.

Are you just sucking up to the ants in case they do decide to attack? No. Even if they did attack they don’t speak English or come to small independent comedy shows. I say some pretty disparaging stuff about them in the show as well, so if they do take over the world I will be the first to go.

Unnerved by the ability of bees to make honey, Eddie Izzard once asked if spiders could make gravy or earwigs make chutney. Can ants whip up any conserves or condiments? Some of them grow fungus extremely well. So I guess it just depends on whether you consider fungus to be a condiment. Or Aphid jizz…they farm that as well.

Who is your favourite Aunt from the following: Aunt Sally from Worzel Gummidge, Aunt Em from the Wizard of Oz, Aunty Jack or Aunt Fanny from the Famous Five? Probably Aunt Em. Yeah. Aunt Em.

Antz or A Bug’s Life? A Bug's Life. I don’t like the movie Antz. I don’t like anything that is spelled with a ‘z’ instead of an ‘s’ to be cool. I’m glad it’s not called ‘A Bugz Life’ cos then I’d really be stuck.

Do you have any ant-related merchandise on offer for fans? Deely-boppers? I have some freebies that you can have if you come to the show. Just little prizes for games. They’re animal bookmarks. I made them myself.

What international act would you bring out to perform at the Melbourne Comedy Festival if you had the chance? Oh, there are so many. Demetri Martin and Eddie Izzard would be great to see live.

Are there any shows that you’d recommend at this year’s festival or ones that you’re looking forward to seeing? I would highly recommend seeing Josie Long, Claudia O’ Doherty, Xavier Micheledes, Josh Makinda, Joel Creasey, Justin Hamilton, Four Minute Warning, Smart Casual, Felicity Ward, David O’Doherty, Andrew McClelland and Josh Earl.

Finally, Adam Ant once declared that ‘ridicule is nothing to be scared of’. Good advice for a comedian? I think so. Good advice for anyone really. I mean it probably does depend on the kind of ridicule but ultimately ridicule can’t hurt you. Not like ants. They hurt.

Laura Davis is performing Ants Don’t Sleep at the Trades Hall, corner of Lygon and Victoria Street in Carlton from 25 March – 4 April everyday but Mondays (Tue-Sat 7pm, Sun 6pm)