Swindells-Grose has been treading the boards since she was little – in fact she still ranks as the youngest to have been admitted to an acting college in Queensland where she only had to tell a minor porky to get in. “I was 15, but I lied about my age and said I was 17 – I’d basically finished the course by the time I actually turned 17. I was such a brat and so disorganised back then. I never actually even filled in the application form for the audition. It was a really stringent process too – they only let in something like 14 people each year out of several 1,000. Anyway, I just showed up and they said, ‘You can’t audition, we don’t have your details,’ and I threw a bit of a hissy fit and said ‘Well, I mailed this in two months ago, if you’ve lost it that’s your problem, but I’m here to audition and you’re either going to see me do it or not, but either way someone’s going to hear about it. So bold and ballsy.” In a weird and karmic twist of fate, the person she blagged turned out to be her future-husband’s Aunty and she was forced to confess subsequently.
One of Swindells-Grose’s chief skills is making people laugh and she’s been aware of its power since she was a kid. “In grade six I had this teacher called Mr Grey,” she recollects. “He pulled me aside before I was going to grade seven and said, “You know what, you can’t get away with acting the fool and doing what you did this year next year’ and I said, ‘Oh, that’s what they said to me last year.’ He paused and then he laughed and I thought, jeez, there’s a bit of power in being able to make someone laugh – it feels good and it’s a good influence strategy.”
After acting college, Swindells-Grose was temporarily at a loose end and went to work in her family’s comedy club. If there was ever any doubt that she was going to entertain for a living, that coffin was nailed. “For the first couple of years I was an 80-year-old bag lady. Then I went into the show and at some point my brother said, ‘You’ve got one week to learn a stand-up comedy routine and you’re going on Friday night.’ I was absolutely terrified. It was written for me and I wouldn’t say that the jokes were particularly great, but I learned it. It’s like a big cleanse being told you have to perform in a week’s time – there were all kinds of things coming out of all kinds of holes. I went on stage two kilos lighter. But, I did it and it was wonderful and I thought ‘I love doing that” and then I immediately wanted to write material.”
Remember the boldness that fuelled Swindells-Grose’s early endeavours? Well, she’s still got a touch of it now, but she’s made a virtue out of it for Lady ZaZa Sings Taboos. Amongst other things, the show’s about death, daddy issues, truth and knocking one out (although, undoubtedly, Swindells-Grosse would hate that phrase). “It’s about taboos,” she explains. “Not the big taboos though. I’m not talking about bestiality or necrophilia or cannibalism.
“You know all of those things you shouldn’t say? I like to say them. I’m the kind of person that, in the past, has been described as a bit tactless. I like to talk about the things that are a little bit difficult to talk about. I think that we go through life being very correct and trying not to offend people and I get very bored by small talk. I’d rather get to the heart of it, so if you’re talking about cancer let’s talk about cancer, if you’re talking about masturbation, let’s talk about masturbation. I don’t want to use the euphemisms or just talk about the weather. So, it’s about being able to be 100% who you are and talk about what you want to talk about – and it’s all tied up in a bunch of show tunes.”
Swindells-Gross attributes her guiding ethos to her Nan, who also took the splendidly Marxist attitude that we should work and play in equal measure. “It’s a human instinct to want to hold on to something that is going to make you see the lighter side. We’re on the planet to survive and keep living and it’s a survival mechanism sometimes to be able to have a laugh at yourself. Nan grew up during tough times – they lived in a tent for several months and they caught their own rabbits for years because they had no food, they had to build an entire life, but they were really grateful for what they got and laughter just came easily.”
BY MEG CRAWFORD
