500 gigs on from his prison release, Andrew Hamilton is finding plenty to laugh about.
Having your mum show up to your gigs is one thing. Having your mum chaperone you to your gigs when you’re a fully-fledged adult is another. It all pales, however, compared with having your mum chaperone you to gigs as part of your bail conditions.
Comedian Andrew Hamilton knows all this to be true from lived experience.
Sh*t Bloke
- March 27 to April 21
- Spleen Bar
- Tickets are on sale now
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Hamilton’s first full-length show, Jokes About the Time I Went to Prison, earned him a nomination for Best Newcomer at 2023’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
Now, more than two years since his release from prison, Hamilton is embarking on a new chapter of comic material.
Sh*t Bloke, the follow-up to Jokes About the Time I Went to Prison, reveals that life after prison might be a redemptive story for Hamilton, but it’s a work in progress nevertheless.
Your mum accompanied you to open mic nights early on, as part of your bail conditions. Mum’s aren’t known for their harsh feedback when their children perform. How true is this statement of your mum in your earliest days performing?
I think she was just happy that I had decided to do anything other than go back to selling drugs, to be honest. My entire family was very supportive of me doing comedy from the moment I decided to pursue it.
That’s what happens when you’ve already set the bar very low — the only way is up!
What’s your most vivid memory of your first gig?
Absolutely shitting myself on stage. It’s nerve-wracking. I had spent so long timing and memorising my material, and when you first start talking it’s terrifying because the room is silent. Because they’re listening to you.
Luckily when I started hitting punchlines, the laughter followed. And then you just feel this immense relief wash over you. I was addicted to stand-up right away after that first open mic.
Your new show, Sh*t Bloke, follows up your MICF award-nominated show, Jokes About the Time I Went to Prison. It’s been two years since you left prison. Your bio indicates you had it in mind that you’d instantly become a better person if you stopped breaking the law. But you didn’t, it adds. In what sense is this so?
Sometimes I fantasise about pushing over slow-walking people. Sometimes I leave the toilet seat up. I told a homeless guy he needs to get Paywave because I don’t carry cash anymore.
Some days we get it right. Sometimes we don’t. This show is about being a living, breathing, work in progress, and trying to figure out the steps to become a better human being.
Jokes About the Time I Went to Prison has been described as a cautionary tale. Sh*t Bloke doesn’t scream Hollywood redemption. How would you describe the life stage Sh*t Bloke encompasses?
Oh don’t get me wrong, this is a redemption story. The ‘Shit Bloke’ referred to in the show title is the man I saw in the mirror at Long Bay Jail.
The show is about recognising when you’ve become a version of yourself that you don’t really like and having the courage to do something meaningful about it.
What are a few examples of things you have discovered during this period after prison that audiences can expect to learn about?
Audiences will learn some new and exciting ways to ingest cocaine. That alone is worth the price of admission.
They’ll also hear about the many kinds of shame I felt after being released from the clink and insights into the life-changing opportunities that confront someone when they begin to fight back against addiction.
Since starting comedy, you’ve had various successes in the form of reviews, sold-out shows and nominations, to name some. How would you describe your expectations for this MICF, compared with your first time?
Last time I was just trying to introduce people to my comedy and my story. I was just happy that anyone came and my time at Melbourne Comedy Festival exceeded my expectations in every way.
This time, after my famous exploits in 2023, I’m expecting I’ll arrive at Tullamarine to some sort of parade and that there will be similar mania to a Taylor Swift concert. Scalpers will be selling tickets to my sold-out run and these will be purchased by my version of the Swifties, which we are calling Hammies.
You’ve performed more than 500 shows now. What are a few examples of some of the biggest discoveries you’ve made about being a comedian that you didn’t realise at the outset?
I guess I didn’t realise how much comedy would give back to me when I started doing it. Some people ask if it is draining to do shows four or five nights a week, but I actually draw energy from the shows.
I need to be around people to keep me going and I actually feel myself get a bit antsy if I go longer than a couple of days without performing. As someone who has battled drug and gambling addiction, this is easily the most beneficial addiction I’ve had.
What impact did your Best Newcomer nomination have on your attitude to your future in comedy?
It helped validate exactly what I had thought since day one: that I will become the greatest living comedian in the history of Australia.
Your prison experience appears to have been formative, inadvertently or otherwise, in your entry into comedy. Would comedy have happened for you if prison didn’t?
I say this a lot – there is no way I would have ever done comedy if I didn’t go to prison. It was only when I suddenly felt like I had lost everything and reflected on what ‘starting over’ would look like, that I looked inside myself and realised that the only thing I really wanted to do was spend my life doing standup comedy. Weird right?
People who want to see your material can find a lot of your prison food reviews online. Tell us something about prison food that people who haven’t been to prison would not know.
If you are locked up for a while, you’ll be able to purchase a kettle and a sandwich press for your cell. With heat, you can make all of your prison food significantly better.
A lukewarm beef patty can be turned into a pretty reasonable prison burger with a little bread, cheese and sauce when you chuck it all together in a jaffle iron. Thank me later.
You’ve spoken about the transportive power of laughter. I think a lot of people have a sense of this from their own experiences with laughter. But what’s most meaningful about this idea to you?
We’ve all had moments when we have been in a very dark place mentally and then something hilarious happens and you forget about your troubles for a second.
It can be such a jarring feeling to go from one extreme to another like that, but it reminds us all that, even in a dark time, it’s not the end. It’s not all bad. You’ve just got to weather the storm.
Andrew Hamilton performs at Spleen Bar from March 27 (final show April 21). Hammies and the remaining one per cent of the population can grab tickets to Sh*t Bloke here.
