>>>Wil Anderson Articles<<<

Born again comedian, Wil Anderson's earlier incarnation as a political journalist fuelled him

with enough rage to take what he thought was the sanest option out - stand-up comedy. Anderson

has a guest spot on Triple J's Breakfast Show, has appeared on Good News Weekend writes a

column for The Australian.

As a journalist I didn't like the restrictions were placed on me in the media.

It used to be a really simple explanation. Loved the Billy Bragg line from The Great Leap

Forward where he said, "Mixing pop and politics they ask me what the use is/I offer them

embarrassment and my usual excuses." But the style now is less manic, less preaching and the

audience has to do a little more work.

There has always been an element of rock & roll in comedy but it has got to the stage that someone like Jimeoin can

get thousands of young people coming to a gig like they would go to a rock concert. Good News Week live telecasts get

thousands of people there cheering and screaming.

To be a comedian you have to be able to relate to the everyman. Looks probably just make your job a little more difficult.

For starters I'd give Daryl Somers more TV. I don't think that man is getting enough exposure. We should have Daryl

every night.

Comedy is funny.

Without natural talent you could get to a certain level but you could never be brilliant. Others brilliant talent but never

practice their skills.They just float through.

If I had a choice I'd only do stand-up.

People have talked about anything. It is harder to shock people now.

I don't know if I've paid my membership, so I don't know if I'm a member.

A woodcutter and a little girl walk into a forest. The little girl goes, "Oh, my God, it's so dark. I'm terrified it's dark.

And the woodcutter goes, "How do you think I feel? I've got to walk back home alone."

Published June Juice, 1999

20 Signs You've Joined A Really Bad Millennium Cult

BY WIL ANDERSON

1. The name of your cult contains the words 'kiss' and 'army'.

2. Instead of reading from the Bible, your cult leader gets all his predictions from Max Walker's "How To Hypnotise Chooks".

3. Your cult leader pretends to know everything about computers yet still thinks that the Silicon Valley is the gap between

Tori Spelling's breasts.

4. The good news is, your cult's Apocalypse bunker is well-stocked with emergency supplies of baked beans. The bad

news is, it's also air-tight.

5. Your leader's last job was playing that guy Urkel on that really hilarious television show "Family Matters".

6. If you don't sell 100 boxes of special Apocalypse cookies you don't get to join everyone else on the mothership.

7. The leader of your cult doesn't love Raymond, and as we know, Everybody Loves Raymond.

8. Your cult leader thinks he's a kitty-cat and keeps asking other cult members to sit him on their lap and stroke him.

9. Your cult leader gets all his predictions from fantales wrappers and thus is convinced he will star in "Working Girl"

and marry Antonio Banderas.

10. Your leader makes you wear electronic brain hats and watch hours of him making speeches, which wouldn't so bad

but he also makes you watch hours of Richard Stubbs doing stand-up on "The Late Report".

11. The name of your cult....The Daddo's.

12. The compound where your cult is located is just the granny flat at the back of your mum's house.

13. Your cult leader thinks Y2K is the latest fragrance from Calvin Klein.

14. Despite his predictions about impending Apocalypse, you notice your cult leader has already renewed his subscription

to "Nutty Cult Leaders Digest" for the years 2000 and 2001.

15. Your cult leader told you all about the free Nikes, but didn't mention the fact that to get on the spaceship you

have to remove your genitals.

16. After touring for almost 2 years, you realise you're not in a Millennium Cult at all, but a member of The Jim Rose Circus.

17. Your leader has named your compound "The House Of Burning Death".

18. The leader wears really little mini-skirts and gets all her instructions from a mysterious dancing baby.

19. Your cult leader keeps predicting when the world will end, and then, when it doesn't happen, says: "Did I say

today? No, I meant next week. This is a 9 not a 6...I just can't read God's handwriting."

20. Your leader has put all the cult's money in a bank account with the combination 666, which everyone knows is the

PIN number of The Beast.

DESCRIBE YOURSELF AND YOUR WORK IN 20 WORDS.
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride and I'm wanted- Dead or Alive.

WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU'RE FUNNY?
Everytime I take my clothes off people start pissing themselves.

DO YOU DO COMEDY FOR LOVE OR MONEY?
I do it as part of my court imposed community service, I can't say what for but don't mention the words "George Michael" around

me.

HOW DO YOU PREFER YOUR AUDIENCES?
I prefer the audience from "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" You can ask them anything, they're so smart!

DOES IT HURT WHEN THEY DON'T LAUGH? WHERE?
No, only when I urinate, although I fear that might be a completely different problem.

IS SEXUAL INNUENDO LOSING ITS APPEAL OR IS YOUR WORK BECOMING MORE CRASS TO GET LAUGHS?
For me there is still nothing funnier than Mr Humphries talking about Mrs Slocombe's pussy. Champagne comedy, I'm free!

Other people's misfortune. Death, war, violence, tragedy- and kids getting their nuts hit into things on Australia's Funniest

Home Videos.

SO, WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?
I don't know, can I call a friend?

"... serial killer, the Glenelg tram, and five cent deposits on soft drink bottles. And to be honest I'm willing to risk the shallow

graves for the opportunity to enter the competitions on the back of chip packets for free.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ADELAIDE AUDIENCES TO REMEMBER YOU?
Actually I'd prefer it if they didn't. I'm meant to be in the Witness Relocation Program.

Interview by Elizabeth Bentley

Drum Media, 1/11/00

Who are celebrities? What do they actually do? And how come Eddie Maguire looks so smug as he asks a series of questions,

each one more complicated than the last? Comedian Wil Anderson is set to challenge the modern cult of celebrity in his latest

show, "Who wants to be a Wilionaire?"

In the last year, Anderson himself has been magnified in the public eye as one half of Triple J’s Breakfast team and a regular

‘special guest’ on Good News Week. Does he include himself in the glittering calvacade of people who are fortunate enough

to get their mugs on TV?

‘I think you would have to put the words ‘piss weak’ infront of any reference to celebrity and my name;’ he laughs. As far as

the genesis of celebrity goes: "I think it’s probably a pact with the devil. I’ve looked into it, it could be talent, it could be

personality, but I’m pretty much thinking some sort of plea bargain with Satan."

As for Eddie, Wil’s got a theory that he’s a reverse Portrait of Dorian Grey, where he’s the portrait, and someone else is

the real McCoy.

"I’d say its Ricky Martin. So everytime Ricky shakes his bom bom one more time, Eddie gets another chin."

Anderson isn’t out to put the wind up Jimmy Barnes or Fred Hollows. It’s the folk who live off publicity stunts and PR

machines, without contributing to society that really get his dander up.

Anderson is quick to stress that he’s not trying to ‘redefine the wheel, it’s comedy!’ but his reputation as a funnyman with

a conscience precedes him. He just can’t help it. He’s incapable of cynicism.

"Its about how easy it is to forget the important stuff, and how being a celebrity means you can getaway with a lot

of things like you read in the papers everyday, like how the son of some big time judge or big time politician gets off a

speeding ticket or drink driving charge because they’ve got a famous daddy, or getting off something because of who

they are and the pressures of celebrity."

"Alan Bond for example-what did he spend a day in goal for every million dollars he stole? And you think, if you compare that

to Johnno the Aboriginal boy who hanged himself in custody for stealing pretty much 70 bucks worth of stuff, I think that on

the money/time ratio he should have bee in goal for about 15 minutes."

For a comic with a conscience, Anderson is a deceptively sharp shooter. And there’s a few sequined spangled camera hogs

out there who could be feeling a wee bit nervous right now.

Danni Minogue, aka the Where’s Wally of the magazine world and Annaliese Braakensiack ‘Annaliese doesn’t do anything,

she just seems to wear a cowboy hat’ are high on his list of parasites.

But even getting back to the source of all this moral outrage, isn’t the winning of a million dollars, even as a celebrity, a

sizeable lure? Would Wil ever come down off his soapbox long enough to enter Celebrity Who wants to be a millionaire?

"No, because one, people would realise how stupid I was, and two, the awe of being in the same room as Eddie would

overwhelm me, and plus, I don’t have any showbiz celebrity friends to call as my call-a-friend option."

Though in Breakfast running mate Adam Spencer, Wil is sorted, as they say. He could have the whole Quantum team

on the phone if Adam said the word. Doesn’t Wil dream of financial independence?

"See I don’t think it works like that" Anderson argues. "Surely you have to answer a series of questions, each more

complicated than the last. And I just wouldn’t be able to do that. But I’d be quite happy for Adam to goon, and he could

share the money with me."

At the moment it appears that Wil’s too busy to dream of mega bucks. His day starts at 3am to prepare himself for the

rigors of Breakfast with Adam Spencer, ’fabulously talented, totally intelligent, and very funny, and nice, and clever, and

warm and all those things that you gotta hate in another person!"

But while he’s having a creative, if stressful time on ABC radio, stand-up is his first-and perhaps only- love. And Wil’s not

intending on kipping on his laurels either.

"The feeling of a good joke is fine, and it’s the est thing you can have, but in stand up, I personally would prefer a new

thing that went wrong than an old thing that’s really consistent.

I’ve done stupid things in standup. I hit an old woman over the head with a rolled up newspaper in Tasmania, and I

jumped off the roof of a theatre in Rockhampton and I pashed somebody to finish the show at the Melbourne Comedy

festival one night. You’ve sorta gotta give that stuff, so people can say ‘Yeah I was there the night he did the whole

thing lying down onstage. Okay, it wasn’t the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was interesting, because he was

pushing it to see what he could do"

About half an hour of busking should be enough to rebuild my entire fortune, another half hour if I also wanted a cup of coffee

Eddie Maguire’s. So I could resign and singly-handedly solve Australia’s unemployment problem.

Do Pokemon cards count? I’ve also got an old Leigh Matthews football card I got with a packet of bubblegum

Put it this way, if Winona Ryder would stop making movies, I would be a very wealthy man

When I’m out drinking with rugby league players, I always go before it’s my shout

Underwear. It was starting to get really embarrasing in the change rooms at school sports carnivals.

I’d risk it all and play on for the million, thanks Eddie.

Pay off my part of Peter Reith’s phone bill. Yes, that’s right, I am Miss X.

Ring Woody Harrelson and see if that offer still stands with Demi Moore.

…do exactly what I do now, but in much more expensive shoes.

Sydney Telegraph, 7/11/00

considering that, after a stint as a newspaper journalist, a brief experiment as an author, followed by a successful stretch as

a stand up comic, Anderson has ended up co-hosting theTriple J breakfast show with Adam Spencer.

His years in stand up have made him a tough critic of his own performance.

"A regular listener once described the Triple J show as sometimes brilliant, at other times a car accident, and that sums it up

pretty accurately" he said

Anderson has taken time out from Triple J this week to perform his sixth solo stand up show, called Who wants to be a

Wilionaire?, at the Glebe Vahalla.

Five years ago, Anderson was building a promising career with the very serious Australian Financial Review in the Canberra

press gallery when he threw it in to live in Melbourne and writea book.

"There wasn’t much writing involved- there was a lot of drinking, a lot of hanging out, and a lot of telling people I was a writer."

He says

Nor surprisingly, his money ran out fast. A friend suggested he try stand up comedy.

"My first gig was the try out room as theEspy in St Kilda on a Saturday afternoon and I was mind staggeringly awful" he said

But Anderson persisted amd last year he was nominated for Best Newcomer at the Edinburgh ringe festival. Stand up is

clearly his first choice. "I see myself as a stand up who has a radio job, not a radio person who does stand up shows." He said

Radio has forced him to be more profilic.

"A good stand up might write two hours of jokes a year, whreas we write two to three hours of jokes each week for a radio

show" he said

But he concedes, some of the jokes misfire.

"On radio you can kid yourself that they’re laughing at home. In front of a live audience, there’s no room for self delusion."

Sydney Telegraph, 9/11/00

Comedians Wil Anderson and Dave Hughes are at important stages in their careers. At least that’s what they think.

Others will tell you they are both past that moment when you move from being a pub standup to a brand name comic.

That’s why the two can mount their own stand up shows in Sydney now without the crunch of a support cast or boozed

up audience.

"You’ve got to do a show up here to make it worthwhile" says Hughes of his career.

"You want a decent profile that comes from doing a show when people see you specifically rather than just see you in

some dingy pub somewhere."

Anderson has taken the leap already in Sydney, doing a three-week season at the Globe in Newtown. He too wants to

get to that "show" stage rather than having to do pub standup.

"To do it you’ve got to get up there and do seasons where no one sees your shows," he says

"We’re young and stupid enough not to have too much to lose out of it but at least enough profile so someone might

come to them"

Their humility betrays their status.

Anderson is already well on his way to wherever he wants to go. He’s a regular television performer and has staged five

different solo shows around the country, even taking Wilennium to the notoriously ruthless Edinburgh Fringe Festival

in 1999. And there’s his breakfast gig co-hosting on the national youth network, Triple J. Not that that is the

promotional vehicle it could be, he smiles.

"Yeah the double barrel of the ABC where you can have a national radio show but you can’t mention the fact you’re

doing any work outside. It’s like being in the world’s most high-profile witness-protection program."

Hughes also has the radio and TV gigs, including a co-hosting role with two former footballers on the

comedychannel’s The Java Lounge that suits his laconic charm just fine.

Hughes also realises now is the time to take the next step. "If you’re pulling a crowd yourself, you don’t want some

dodgy promoter to be making a lot of money and giving you nothing"

"Especially when you’re already paying your dodgy promoter to manage your career" Anderson ships in, across the

table from that very same manager.

"That way you can walk into his office and see where your money’s going. Sometimes the strippers will be just

leaving."

Anderson, a former journalist, has adopted Sydney and, as far as he’s concerned, that’s all Sydney audiences

need to know about his comedy. As far as the laid back Hughsie, the often hyper Anderson can do the talking.

"Sydney needs to know its not often you can find comics in a room who all agree on somebody they enjoy

watching and that’s almost unanimously Hughsie.

"And I live here now so I’m Sydney’s favourite new local comic" he adds. "It’s my hometown, Sydney. I love you

guys. Support Sydney talent. As long as nobody reads this in Melbourne, I’m here for life!"

Sydney Life, Daily Telegraph, 10/11/00, Michael Bodley.

Life in the fast lane was no joke

Comedian Wil Anderson can be brutally honest about his life and idiosyncrasies when he is on stage.

Off stage, life recently began to imitate one of the subjects of his art- the nature of fame and celebrity- and he admits

it was a surreal experience.

He recently struck up a friendship with one of Australia's most famous celebrities, Kate Fischer, and found himself in

the spotlight.

"Its the strange thing about being on stage that you will tell anybody everything- but off stage, i'm genuinely one of

those private people," he said.

"You never see me out at everything- that's not part of my life.

All the stuff that ensued with her (Fischer) were private moments captured in that moment- none of it was orchestrated

or anything- and it was very weird to be mentioned for that"

Anderson returns to his greatest love, stand-up comedy, at the Sydney Fringe Festival this week.

Sydney adopted the former Melbourne journalist last year when he moved to co-host Triple J's breakfast show with

Adam Spencer.

"It's very funny being known as Sydney comedian Wil Anderson- i don't know how that's going to go down at teh

Melbourne Comedy Festival." He laughed.

Anderson was also a regular on Good News week and other television comedy shows and, while he enjoys the work,

he would give up multimedia to perform comedy every night of the week.

"I am one of those people who can be completely inept at a party trying to make small talk, but put me in front of

1000 total strangers and i can talk for hours and say things i would never say to anyone."

There is no doubt Anderson relishes the risk of stand-up comedy.

He has issues a warning to those who are considering going to his shows at the Bondi Pavilion this weekend- stay

away.

"I think you should warn people there will be a lot of crap in these shows because these three shows will set the

stage for what the show will become this year," he said.

Wil Anderson is at the Bondi Pavilion on Friday, Saturday and next Sunday.

Sunday Telegraph, 7/1/01

Wil Anderson will be conduction research in Adelaide for a book he has been commissioned to write on the

Centenary of Federation.

"I'm writing a book about Australia, what it means to be Australian and Australian history in this centenary year of

Federation," he said.

His writing effort is due out before Christmas through ABC books. It;'s hoped Adelaide will fare better than Brisbane.

"There's a chapter in the book called Beer and Loathing is Bris Vegas which is basically the experience of blue

singlets and rednecks up there" Anderson said.

"So i don't know what Adelaide will be the city of...I might just call it the Glenelg tram or i might just write the

whole thing about that guy that walks through the mall with the G-string and the big boots.

Daily Telegraph 21/2/01

It's not all fun and games at the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It just looks that way, writes perennial prankster Wil

Anderson.

Let's start at the punchline. Stand-up comedy is the not the hardest job in the world. Not even close. With what other

job could you turn up for one hour a day, spend most of that drinking and talking about yourself and at the end get

applauded instead of sacked?
It has always surprised me that in a country where ppl have proved willing to put a live scorpion down their trousers

just because Mike Whitney offered them 50 bucks, that more ppl aren't willing to make a fool of themselves full

time. Well, with the obvious exception of various members of One Nation.
That said, for the 200-odd performers about to take part in the Melbourne Comedy Festival, the next four weeks

will be some of the most challenging in their lives, especially as each day one of them will be voted out of the

festival. Oops, sorry, wrong show.
The first challenge they face is to finish writing their shows. Sure sounds simple enough but, despite the

registration deadline being in Decemberm, the simple truth is most comedians are still basically older, hairier

versions of the kids who stayed up all night to get their essays in at school. Unfortunately, at the comedy festival

you can't get an extension, a not from your mum, or say that the dog ate your show.
Next you have to deal with the hecklers. Every comedian knows the sobering tale of the comic playing the illustrious

Edinburgh Fringe Festival who, after completing 20 mins of his strongest material, had still not managed a laugh.

Not one, and even 'Hey Dad!' got at least one laugh per episode.
As the crickets started to cheep in the background and the tumbleweeds rolled across the front of the stage, the

comic played his final card. Spottin an older gentleman in the audience, he asked him his name. The man looked

back at him, slightly surprised and in a softly spoken Irish brogue said two simple words: "Dave Allen".
Suddenly the oxygen sucked out of the room and the audience held its breath as on, as if witnessing a car accident

in slow motion. But the worst was still to come when the young joker, not recognising one of Ireland's most famous

comedians, pursued his line of questioning. "So Dave," he continued, "what do you do?"
Allen looked back at the young lad, paused and then softly said the fatal words: "I'm a comedian. What do you do?"
And then when you thought things couldn't get worse, there's the parents. For me, the toughest crowd for any

comedian is one that contains mum and dad, or even worse, grandma and grandpa. For starters, the temptation

is to remove all offensive material, which means most shows end up running on average 4 mins. Even more

mortifying is when your parents don't enjoy the show, and start to heckle: "You're shit. Get off. You're not our real

son. You are the weakest link. Good-bye."
With any luck this will also be the night you have reviewers in. One of the real challenges comedians will face

regret every minute of my life. I wish I was dead. Not funny at all. He is a tragedy. No star.", into a poster

quote that read, "This show was the greatest … every minute … was dead … funny. He is a … star."
But then it's time to relax, right? No. That's when the tough part really starts. The partying. Because, above

all else, the comedy festival is the time an Australian comedian, a Scottish comedian and an Irish comedian

all walk into a bar… and then stay there for about a month.
Sure, David Boon might have drunk 52 cans on the plane from Australia to England, but there are some comedians

during the festival who can give that record a nudge in the tram between the Trades and Town Hall.
The Festival is a great opportunity for comedians from around the world to get drunk together, share ideas, give real

meaning to the term "foreign affairs" and say insightful things like: "Wow, a hot chicken roll. Yummy. I'll have 2."
But it is not always a big love-in with everyone sitting arounf the campfire singing Kumbaya. The sad truth is

comedy can be highly competitive and incredibly bitchy. The sort of place where describing someone as "a laugh

a minute" can actually be an insult about the pace of their show.
Or, to put it more simply, how many comedians does it take to change a light globe? Ten. One to screw it in and

nine others to stand around and say: "That was shit. I've seen it before. I could have done it better."
So with all this said, why am I about to start my 6th solo comedy festival season? Well, for one somple reason:

lack of other skills and the rent won't pay itself. Well, that and the simple truth that making ppl laugh is the most

fun you can have in a room full of strangers without a bowl of cream and getting CHarlie Sheen and the police involved.
Laughing is a complete release from all the problems of the world. The only thing that comes close is the orgasm,

and even Sting can't give you 60 of those in an hour. Better still, most comedians won't be jealous if you laugh with

them and then get up and go and laugh at someone else straught away.
So that's why, even on the night when you are standing there thinking you would have been better off staying at

home and flushing your money straight down the toilet, it is still all worth it.
It is worth it, because when you hear the greatest sound on earth, a simple laugh, you know you have earned

the right to say: "I'm a comedian. What do you do?"

Age: 26

How did you get into comedy? It was a complete fluke. I killed a mob boss and i had to go into the witness

relocation program and they had two identities left, one was Daryl Somers and one was Wil Anderson, and i

think i made the right choice. Serious, i genuinely don't' know how i got into comedy. But if there was ever a point

where i became a comedian, it was at the Edinburgh Festival last year. I stepped on stage in front of 100 people

in a room, none of them were from Australia, and they had no preconceptions on what it was that I did. When i

made those people laugh, that was night where i went "Oh hang on, i can do this" and I'd been doing comedy

for four years. And that was probably the first time i went "I'm a comedian, this is what i do"

Describe your sense of humour: I wouldn't. I don't think that's my job. My job is to tell jokes- it's probably for

other people to describe what it is i do.

What's your best/favourite joke? I can't think of one of my own that i like, but this is my favourite kid's joke:

Why does Edward Woodward have four d's in his name? Because otherwise his name would be ewar woowar.

Worst moment on stage? Because there's a bit of language in my shows, if there's a young person sitting

down the front i ask them, "What's the rudest word you know?" And the kids always go with "shit", and it's

funny because people just love hearing a kid say shit. It's pretty funny. And so i go "Come on, you've heard

something ruder than that," and you know the kid wants to say it, and eventually, the kid, i would say 9 times

out of 10, will say Fuck. It's not clever. But one night i did it and this kid's there with his parents, he's got to

be 10 or 12 and I've done the whole thing and he says Fuck, and i guess i wasn't even listening because I've

done it so many times. And i went "nah, you've heard something ruder than that", and so he dropped it. He

dropped the 'c' word. And everyone thought it was pretty funny. Now I've probably had worse moments where

a joke dies, but what makes this the moment that sticks in my mind is that i don't like my family coming to

see my show and standing in the corridor was my grandmother who'd come up to Melbourne from the country,

paid to go and see my show and she just looked at me and didn't say anything. But all i could see in her

eyes- this is a woman who gives you nothing but love for 26 years- and i those eyes all i could see was

" So that's what you do for a living.- you make 12-year-old kids say the "c" word. You are Satan." That

was the worst moment I've ever had on stage.

Best moment on stage? It was in Edinburgh. My venue was in a bar- really crowded- and the stage was

shaped like a horseshoe. I did my offstage introduction from another room and there's this guy coming back

from the bar. His seat was across the other side of the stage, so he's decided to take the easiest way

across straight over the stage, with the drinks. I can't see any of this and my stage-hand has given me the

go-ahead, so I'm doing my introduction and the last bit of it is "Blah Blah Blah, Wil Anderson!" As i said

"Wil Anderson, the lights go up, the mike goes on and this guy is centre stage. He's stunned by the fact

that lights have suddenly flashed in his face. So he stopped. The audience have just gone "Well there's a

guy standing on stage with a beer, that's probably Wil Anderson." So now there's this audience of about

100 people applauding and this guy is like the rabbit in the headlights. And he looks into the microphone

and says, "I'm not him" And then just stood there. And it ended up being one of those shows where i told

my first (prepared) joke about 40 minutes into the show. From that we just had the best time.

- Vogue April 2001.