By DAVE THORNTON
Mike McColl-Jones – former head writer for Graham Kennedy – once told me that ‘comedy is laughing at others, humour is laughing at yourself.’
Well, by that reasoning this next story SHOULD be most humourous.
A few years ago I was doing a breakfast radio show. It was a fill-in shift over summer and it was broadcast nationally. (No biggie, stop bringing it up…)
Honestly, I have no idea why they gave me the job. I think they mistook me for Wil Anderson… or someone else who knew what they were actually doing. I was on air with the very left of centre and rad Dylan Lewis (for a reminder fire up your VCRs and re-watch ‘Recovery’) and Hollywood’s Sophie Monk.
Admittedly I didn’t know much about Sophie, aside from the teenage crush on Bardot and ‘that scene’ in Entourage. (Youtube search “Sophie Monk + Entourage” = shameful private viewing *hangs head in disappointment knowing he’s a creep.*) At the time, Sophie had just split from a Madden – the one without the swiveling red chair – and was only in Australia for a few weeks.
It’s easy to judge actors from what you read in the tabloids and nothing more. But once you’re in a room with a performer, especially a super famous one, you find that one thing the tabloids get right is, ah… the fact they’re incredibly good looking people.
Actors are usually hot. And as much as we would all like our cerebral brain to get to know a person on an intellectual basis, our primitive brain gets in the way with messages like ‘me likes food in my mouth hole’ and ‘me like her’. (Yes my primitive brain employs the same lexicon as The Cookie Monster).
So all of a sudden: I was flirting.
Why? Cause why not?
After three weeks on air every morning, Sophie and I had shared bad caffeine breath and mobile phone numbers.
Merry Christmas, Thorno.
Over the New Years break I had gone camping with mates on the Southern NSW coast. I then told Sophie that I could swing by Sydney and hang out, you know, if I could be bothered.
The phrase ‘just as mates…’ quickly followed. (*Pants heavily: not sleazy, not sleazy.*)
Little did Sophie know that ‘swinging by’ actually meant a last minute flight from Merimbula “airport” to Sydney costing $300 (on a comedian’s salary of… well… not lots).
Yes, Happy New Year Dave!