AT THE BEGINNING

of her stand-up career, Hannah Gadsby would kick-start the writing process by listing all her faults on a piece of paper. “That’s how I wrote a show: everything that was awful about me.” In her new show

Nanette, the Melbourne comedian is addressing a time in her life when her self-esteem suffered the greatest blows – her formative years in rural Tasmania in the mid-’90s, when the entire state was debating whether to legalise homosexuality. “The fact that it was illegal to be gay wasn’t as damaging as the active debate and just the horrific, constant chat. And when that started, all you heard from the mainland is how stupid and bigoted and backwards Tasmanians were. It was only until recently that I realised how fucked that was.” Last year, Gadsby became a powerful voice against the marriage equality plebiscite, comparing it to her horrific experiences in Tasmania. “Every day I deal with the effects of anxiety and low-esteem,” she wrote in a Facebook post. “It is not nearly as debilitating as it used to be but I don’t imagine I will ever be truly free of it. Just imagine how brilliant I could have been if I hadn’t been given such a shitshow at such a vulnerable time in my life.” Very few comedians could write a routine blending such searingly personal reflections with political turmoil and make it funny; but Gadsby’s unflinching honesty is why she is one of Australia’s best-loved and most innovative artists. Several years back, she even halfjokingly classified her work in a new sub-genre: “depression comedy”. And yet, she is adamant

Nanette will be her last stand-up show. “I don’t want to be self-deprecating anymore, because I’ve done a lot of work on this situation,” she says, gesturing from her head to her toes. “I think there’s something a bit limiting about comedy. It’s stories I’m more interested in.” So what’s next for Gadsby? Well, right now she’s converting her backyard cubby house into a Renaissance chapel, but she also has a memoir and a new art history documentary in the works.