Dispatches from the Fury Road: Townsville

Townsville was loud tonight.

It was in complete contrast to our first day in town. We flew in on ANZAC Day and had time to ourselves. I’d planned on some bonding time with my tour pals but was dealing with some major congestion issues. I caught my first cold of the year over the weekend, beginning as a feeling of lethargy that I put down to the general sludge of 2024. With each victory this year, there has been a setback, and I know I’m not alone in that experience. For every time I declared, “I’m on top of the world, Ma!” the world has kicked me in the balls until I slid right back down to the bottom of the heap.

A sense of ennui felt about right.

Then the cold made it’s presence felt as it crawled across my shoulders, up my neck, and into my throat. My heart sunk, wondering if it was Covid again. I dreaded all three of my tests, but three negative was like winning Viral Lotto.

Meanwhile the cold was still hanging around, like a friend of a friend who has stayed at your party longer than the actual friend, and it is time for them to move on, go away, fuck right off. A quick visit to the doctor allayed any fears that I was contagious, and in fact, I was on the mend. He gave me a script for antibiotics but told me to hold off because he felt strongly this would clear before my first flight.

Four flights later, and now my head felt like it was about to pop like a balloon. I found the Rockhampton show difficult to hear onstage, and my hearing was now worse once I landed in Townsville.

I had a day to myself to try and loosen up the sinuses and place the sentence, “Sorry? What did you say?” back on the shelf . I slept for a bit, and then decided to go for a walk. I crossed the Ross Creek and watched what appeared to be a derelict boat floating without purpose, while three seagulls chilled out on the roof under the soft sunlight. I stood there watching that boat, wondering what had happened to leave it gently spiralling alone on the water. Was it a ghost boat? Did it house escaped criminals slowly attempting to evade the law? Did the seagulls steal the boat to go on the journey of a lifetime? So many questions.

With the sun setting the city felt more like someone trying to remember the town they grew up in and had forgotten important details. The streets were mainly empty. Beautiful old bars were closed. Shop fronts were covered in a heady mix of graffiti, posters, and dust. Times are tough everywhere. The lack of people unnerved me. They may have been at home. Maybe they were on holidays. It’s possible the city isn’t the place to hang anymore. Walking down an alley, I could imagine a picture of this place in the paper with the headline reading, “No Joke! Last Place Comedian Seen”.

I didn’t want to be confined to my room, so I picked a suitable destination and decided to treat myself to a double movie night at the local cinema. The surprising Civil War defied expectations, while The Fall Guy fell just short, but at least had two charismatic leads and a couple of friends appear in delightful cameos. My main issue was that my hearing was still clogged and I sat there alone in the cinema, doing a Prince Charles impersonation, as I pushed the backs of my hears outwards in the vain hope of catching more audio. There was nothing to worry about. Both sessions were hardly packed and I doubt anyone was looking in my direction when they could gaze at Ryan Gosling on the big screen.

A visit to the chemist stocked me up with all sorts of decongestions tablets and sprays, and I set about getting my hearing back on track. While it did improve, it was still mainly blocked, and I was bummed out before the gig. I resigned myself to the fact the experience would be like performing in a silent movie.

I needn’t have worried. It turns out the Townsville Civic Theatre was sold out. Not only that, the roughly thousand people were switched on. From host Marcel Blanche De Wilt’s opening, the audience was ready to go.

And they were loud. Really loud. Loud in a good way. By the time I hit the stage, even with the muffled ringing in my ears, I could hear Townsville giving it up, and I could ride their energy like a surfer enjoying the perfect waves.

FYI I have never surfed so I’m not certain that metaphor works. If not, feel free to add your own.

The point is, Townsville was loud tonight.

They were great.

And I could hear them perfectly.

Now if anyone can tell me what’s going on with that ghost seagull boat on Ross Creek, I will be rapt.

Justin Hamilton

Townsville

26th of April, 2024