Celebrity is an odd thing. Celibacy is also odd, but not nearly as fun. I’ve just been a contestant on an Australian TV show called Australia’s Got Talent. I’m sure you’re all aware of the format of the these things. People compete, performing whatever talent they have, or think they have in some cases, and then three judges get to humiliate them in front of a national audience.

Before I start, I shoulod let you know that I live in a small town called Hobart, which is the capital city of Tasmania, the island down under, the land down under. We have Tasmanian devils. They have cancerous tumours, but the tumours are tastefully omitted from the Warner Bros cartoons. So, not too much happens in this sleepy little city of ours, so when someone gets their mug on national TV, it turns out to be a bit of a sensation. It’s odd, I’ve been performing around this city for nearly 20 years, but it takes 30 seconds on the telly to be recognised. Ha. So now I have this thing that as I wander about, people start pointing and whispering to each other “Hey, it’s that guy who does the ladder thing….” I climbed a ladder in my first round on the show. Yep. Quite a talent, right there.

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