Apparently you have to feed kids good nutrition to help ’em grow. But frankly, I’m sick of cooking. Once upon a time I worked with a woman selling merchandise who wasn’t brilliant at customer service. We used to jokingly say to her, “This shop would run smoothly if these stupid customers stopped coming in,” and I feel the same about my kids coming into the kitchen. I’d have a clean house if it wasn’t for these grotty teenagers. So at dinner time, my kids get two choices, like it or lump it. My daughters usually swap the inedible contents of their lunchboxes for their unsuspecting school friends’ more tasty morsels.
I’ve written a comedy show about my lack of enthusiasm for being left in charge of catering, frankly it’s a job that I’m underwhelmed and ill-equipped to handle, but it has provided my children many opportunities to laugh at me. And made them good cooks.
I’d love you to bring foodie friends to my funny show as I embark on a quest to outsource the catering. You’ll laugh your guts up as I enlist the audience in my hunt for a personal cooking slave. This show contains bad cooking and more culinary disasters than a season of Gordon Ramsay, along with sensational stand-up and me singing a few tunes. If you’re tired of smashing your own avocados, come to Lou Pollard in Kids In The Kitchen for the 2017 Sydney Comedy Festival at Matchbox – The Factory Theatre, 105 Victoria Road Marrickville on Saturday 6th May at 5.45pm and Sunday 7 May 2017 at 4.45pm
Lou Pollard’s Looking For Mike Brady show is a joyous, wonderfully warped, true, raw romp through the minefields and thickets that beset dating, single parenthood and the predations of ageing.
**** Four stars – themusic.com.au
With one week to go before my Sydney Comedy Festival solo show opens I’ve started having my regular nightmares. In the latest one I am backstage at the Enmore Theatre (the venue for my current show), which then morphs into a Wembley Stadium size venue, and for the rest of the dream I embark on a Spinal Tap-esque hunt for the stage I am going to perform on. In the back corridors and bowels of this massive arena I meet footy players, rock stars, roadies, other comedians and officials and I ask every one of them if they know the way to my part of the venue as, “I’m on in five minutes.” Everyone ignores me or laughs in my face as I grow more and more anxious because I know I have an audience, I just don’t know where they are. Every time I wake up thinking that I am late for my show or that I’ve forgotten to get to the venue, I have to look at my phone to check the date and time. It is always around 2.30am.
When I was at acting school 20 years ago, my regular recurring dream was being back stage and other actors coming up to me and laughing in my face because I’d put the wrong make up on for the play we were in. Then one grotesque looking actor would snatch the script from my hand so I had no idea which play we were performing.
I guess the recurring anxiety about my show means I give a rats about the outcome. So please come to my show, I promise to turn down the volume on my neurotic brain
On the first Friday of every month I get together with a bunch of funny chicks and a few lady men and attempt to make people laugh. A lot. My fellow fools and I host Comedy On Tap Sydney at Tap Gallery in Darlinghurst. I’m the youngest child in my family so I’ve been trying to divert people’s anger with my humour all my life. To quote Shakespeare “I was born to speak all mirth and no matter” (Much Ado About Nothing). It’s a laugh innit?