Funny lady, ju­dith lucy

She's jelly-wres­tled Amanda Palmer for the sake of fem­i­nism and tried to wee stand­ing up for the same noble cause. She is Ju­dith Lucy.


Ju­dith Lucy’s early days are harder to be­lieve than the words: It’s not her­pes, just board short chaffage. The co­me­dian grew up in Perth, WA, un­der the wing of ec­cen­tric par­ents. Her dad wore make-up and of­ten wrote let­ters to the Prime Min­is­ter in So­cratic dia­logue; her mum was afraid of run­ning wa­ter and wrote a let­ter to her daugh­ter graph­i­cally de­scrib­ing how she gave birth to her – which would be kind of nor­mal if Ju­dith Lucy wasn’t adopted, a truth she learnt when it was let slip at a fam­ily Christ­mas when she was 25 years old. Merry Christ­mas, Ju­dith. She’s been on the Aussie com­edy scene for 27 years, has penned two books, done the sis­ter­hood a solid with the TV se­ries Ju­dith Lucy is All Woman, stepped into Mar­garet Pomer­anz’s shoes as a film re­viewer, and has nailed count­less one-woman shows, as well as, yeah, a male es­cort. The lat­est notch on her belt is her new stand-up show Ask No Ques­tions of the Moth, so we catch up to talk about her ca­reer in com­edy, and what’s grind­ing her gears to­day. What kind of kid were you? I was an un­bear­able goody two shoes. I was a de­bater, I was a public speaker, I was the lead in the school play – yes, I was An­nie Sul­li­van in The Mir­a­cle Worker. So it’s a mir­a­cle that I didn’t get beaten up more of­ten re­ally, and that com­bined with the fact that my par­ents were fairly un­usual Ir­ish peo­ple and, you know, lit­tle de­tails like not hav­ing a shower un­til I was 15, it’s amaz­ing that I wasn’t just a smelly, friend­less per­son in the cor­ner. When did you get a taste for com­edy? In pri­mary school I was ob­sessed with mak­ing my best friend laugh. We had th­ese char­ac­ters, I was called Cap­tain Weak­ling and she was my side­kick Bog. I would make up th­ese elab­o­rate sto­ries for Cap­tain Weak­ling and Bog, and used to try to make her laugh all the time. Who was your role model when you were younger? I think it’s prob­a­bly a weird thing to say, but in many ways my mum was my role model but she was kind of my anti-role model be­cause Mum was a re­ally smart woman, but she was very frus­trated and in many re­spects Mum was born in the wrong place at the wrong time. My brother gave this amaz­ing eu­logy at her fu­neral where he talked about that and said, you know be­cause she was smart, she was tal­ented, she was very beau­ti­ful, and she should re­ally have had the world at her feet – but you know, I loved my fa­ther and god knows my mother adored my fa­ther, but he was a sex­ist pig, and so she wasn’t re­ally al­lowed to work, she led a pretty iso­lated life, and I think I saw my mum’s life and I went “I’m not go­ing to have that life.” What do you know about com­edy now that you wish you knew at the be­gin­ning? There are so many things. In a way when I think about that sort of stuff, no ques­tion there are things that I re­gret, but I’m re­ally go­ing to say that bor­ing clichéd thing of ‘Yes, but if I hadn’t made all those mis­takes, I wouldn’t be where I am now’, and I’m quite happy where I am now, so I would prob­a­bly travel back and say, “You know what, just keep be­ing a fuck­wit, be­cause you’ll work it out even­tu­ally.” What are you talk­ing about in your new show, Ask No Ques­tions of the Moth? Well, as any­one who has ever seen my stand-up shows prob­a­bly knows, I do tend to just bang on about my­self and what’s hap­pened since the last time I banged on about my­self. I talk a lot about last year, and last year was not a great year in some ways. I put a photo of my fam­ily up on a slide for most of the show, and it’s a pho­to­graph of me when I’m eight, it’s my first holy com­mu­nion pho­to­graph so I’m look­ing as cute as a bug’s ear. I’m ac­tu­ally look­ing like some sort of de­mented child bride, but any­way, so it’s there and I’m there with my par­ents and my brother and my grand­mother, and I guess if the show has a theme it’s kind of change, and how so much has changed since that photo was taken, and par­tic­u­larly quite a lot changed last year. So I guess that is my deep lit­tle theme. But within that I’m also go­ing, “Why the hell have we lost our minds about frozen yo­ghurt?” so it’s me talk­ing about my life but it’s also ob­ser­va­tions and a bunch of cheap gags. And I do come on stage danc­ing with mara­cas, so that’s got to be a plus. What is the last thing you laughed at? The tele­vi­sion show Broad City. I just love Abbi and Ilana, I think they’re fan­tas­tic. What is your big­gest gripe at the mo­ment? Look, a lot of things are get­ting my goat, but I’m go­ing to go with the fact that we are drink­ing juices and other things out of jars. It’s just, it’s a mys­tery to me. Be­cause I hon­estly thought that tooth­less peo­ple who slept with their cousins drank booze that could blind or kill them out of a jar, be­cause it was a slightly bet­ter op­tion than a trough or a toi­let, so I am slightly mys­ti­fied that this is some­thing that is hap­pen­ing.

Lucy’s new show tours na­tion­ally, head to ju­

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