Dave Thornton is stressed. Not that you’d ever guess from his cool demeanour, though. It’s week two of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, and he has every person in the jam-packed Town Hall Supper Room (seriously, there’s temporary bleacher-style seating set up to accommodate the sheer size of the crowd) on the brink of a chuckle from the moment he walks on the stage.
Before he launches into his set, there’s some improvised crowd work. With over 18 years in the biz, Thornton knows how to coax comedy gold out of the normal folk sitting in the first couple of rows. He gets lucky with Jerome, a powerline worker, who he quizzes about his job. “What’s your favourite powerline?” he spits out with a cheeky giggle, eliciting an even bigger laugh from the audience, who can’t help but join in as he takes the piss out of the fella.
But as fun as it would be to simply watch Thornton bounce off others all night, the experienced comedian knows exactly when to rein things in and get back on schedule. He launches into a bit about doing a gig at a Toyota dealership in Adelaide, muses about how good retirement sounds (instead of pulling a sickie, retirees have the luxury of pulling a “workie”) and scores a raucous round of applause for his hot take on King Charles III finally getting a proper job at the ripe old age of 72.
Things take an ever-so-slightly serious turn when Thornton pivots to the topic of his health. His heightened stress levels have manifested into physical symptoms, including heart palpitations and insomnia (there was a fortnight where he barely got a minute of solid shut-eye). And then there are his kids, who are not only hellbent on reminding him that “old people die” but also won’t leave him alone when he goes to the bathroom – a comment about having a “peeping Tom for a daughter” struck a chord with the parents in the crowd.
And the obvious cure for these tension-induced ailments? Aside from taking magnesium aka “powder that’s legal”, Thornton decides to climb Mount Kilimanjaro with his mates. He relives the ill-prepared trek for us, explaining he was fuelled by nothing but coffee and determination. By the time he’s finished describing what a slog it was to the top, we all feel as though we’ve been on the (undeniably exhausting) journey with him.
There’s nothing too spiky here to create that sense of crackling tension some comedians seem to thrive off, but if it’s an hour of hearty, good ol’ fashioned humour (complete with an obligatory toilet joke) from a guy that just seems genuinely nice, you really can’t go wrong.
