Concrete Playground

If laughter is the best medicine, why are doctors and pharmacists still allowed to practise their quackery? Surely I can limp my broken leg into David O'Doherty's show and, with the final pants-saturating guffaw, dance about in the aisle like a Southern revivalist on ice? The day that Des Bishop banters about the craic in his spiritual homeland is the day I regenerate my crystallised kidney and you can bet I'll be happy for it.

So, when the laugh clinic hits Sydney next year, expect a mass healing greater than anything provided by Dr Jesus. Whether its groin pimples cured by Jason Byrne, or Dom Irrera's sure-fire lung cleanser, you will go home happy from this Festival. And if you don't, Shane Mauss will inject you with his own brand of "shut up and stop whining" that will guarantee no-one will ever have to hear about how sick you are, ever again.

Though, maybe go see a doctor before spreading your communicable filth at the Opening Night. Just in case.


Image by Julia Anderson