Dispatches from the Fury Road: Ipswich
Another town, another old friend.
We drove from Noosa in the morning and used the orbit of Brisbane to sling us toward Ipswich. I was in the car with our tour manager Shannon and comedian Bonnie Tangey. It was funny to discover that all three of us were feeling a bit queasy on the car ride. We’ve been out on the open highways driving in straight lines for nearly three weeks. The sudden onset of traffic and winding roads was something our bodies weren’t prepared for.
I haven’t been to Ipswich in ages and the gig was another sold out show with an audience ready to have a good time. Some of the punters were having an even better time during the show, but afterwards were starting to look the worse for wear. I had three different people tell me they don’t normally drink but this was their big night out. I believed them, especially the woman who waved a hello and promptly turned around to look out over the railing of the car park. Who knows what happened next, but being a gentleman and also someone who doesn’t cope well with people having a liquid laugh, I rapidly moved along.
A few weeks ago I was rapt to receive a message from Rebecca, an old pal of mine from last century. Last century! It’s wild to think we can talk about life in those terms. Bec and I worked the bar together at Boltz Cafe in the 90s, which was also the home of the first ever comedy show I performed at as one half of the Bunta Boys. She was right there to see my fledging attempts at becoming a full time comedian, learning the lessons on and off the stage that provided me with a solid foundation to build a career.
We’d enjoyed some pretty wild and hilarious times together. Then late in the 90s Bec had some stuff go down that prompted a move interstate. Meanwhile I had the Bunta Boys draw to a close, so I set off abroad for some much needed travel. We’d stayed in touch but like most friends whose lives diverge, those catch ups became scarcer until you’re living parallel lives that no longer have those natural crossover points. I think we worked out that it had been 15 years since we last saw each other.
After the gig I joined Bec and her partner Matt for a drink. We found a gay bar that was serving up some pretty loud and dire karaoke that provided a hilarious back drop for our reminiscing. Bec bought us a round of Jack Daniels and coke, our go to drink back in the day. I honestly don’t think I’ve had one of them in well over two decades. It is quite confronting how sugary they taste now. The mixture of JD and the syrupy coke felt like it was burning the enamel from my teeth and eating away the stomach lining. Yet it was fun to share a couple together again.
I won’t bore you with the memories that were shared. It would take too long to explain the characters that filled our every day lives and are now stories that we tell each other. I wonder what stories these friends tell of me, if at all? What emotion is most prominent when my face pops into their head, or my name suddenly appears in a random post? That’s how Bec knew I was performing on this Roadshow. A random advert with my name prompted her to book tickets and reach out. It’s comforting to know that Bec’s first reaction was, “I”m going to the show” and subsequently emailed me so we could catch up.
I’ll leave you with this.
I’ve been performing for just over thirty years now. I started off in the duo The Bunta Boys where my colleague and I played brothers, Jezza and Dougie Bunta. That duo evolved over five years until we were done and it was time to reinvent myself. I took on the task of transforming into a stand-up comedian. There were bumps and missteps along the way. I was impatient to be at the same standard as the double act without realising how difficult it would be to transition from the dynamic of two performers to just me.
I worked diligently on my act and that began to change as I found my voice. I had checkpoints I wanted to achieve, pretty much all centred around the live experience. I produced a few shows that were challenging, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I still have a particular goal in mind that I have worked towards for all these years. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach it but then again, I don’t know who I’d be if I were no longer striving in some capacity.
It’s all about evolution. Keep evolving in your skills, and enjoyment. They’re the only aspects of your career that you can truly control. Everything else is chaos.
After the show when I was talking to Bec, she squeezed my shoulder and said, “Watching you onstage. You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still Jezza Bunta”.
And I laughed. Not because I found it funny, but because there was a real comfort in hearing this. After all this time, after all these shows, there’s still something intrinsically that same kid who bounced around on stage, bristling with enthusiasm for a future that was a mystery for him. I don’t know how young Jezza would feel about it, but I hope he’d like me enough to let me explain that this was a fantastic result.
Justin Hamilton
Ipswich
10th of May, 2024