Sanderson
Jones' Comedy Sale
By
Lee Bemrose
Not
very long ago, British comedian Sanderson Jones had a dream of
performing at the iconic Sydney Opera House. He was relatively
unknown at the time and came up with the idea of selling tickets to
his show by hand, in doing so getting to know his audience
personally. His show, Comedy Sale, has been successful in the UK and
now in Australia, most recently with a sell-out gig at The Melbourne
Comedy Festival, along with a string of weekly appearances.
And
now he is indeed about to perform at The Sydney Opera House.
Meantime, he's hitting the streets of Sydney, selling tickets and
getting to know his audience. But don't expect to find tickets to
this unusual (and very funny) show in the usual places; track him
down on Facebook, follow him on Twitter or log onto comedysale.com
Sales
can be a tough job, yet you choose to personally sell tickets to your
show... why, Sanderson, why?
It was
technique born out of necessity. I wasn’t famous, had no buzz and
needed to get people in my show. Then I discovered two things: 1)
Doing a show to people you’ve met before produces a uniquely
convivial atmosphere. 2) I was really good at selling tickets. Two
years later I’m getting ready to play the Sydney Opera House. It is
weird.
For
the uninitiated, give us a quick rundown of the nature of your show.
I sell
every ticket to my show by hand. That way I get to meet everyone and
customise the show to the crowd. In order to customise it I go
online, find out funny things about my guests and weave it into the
show. Long forgotten Bebo pages are a bloody goldmine.
What's
the ratio of sales of people who approach you to cold calling?
About
80/20. Though I wish more people just came up to me. One woman did
that yesterday. It was aces. Her name was Shannon and I’d bumped
into her in Adelaide, then Melbourne and finally they can come. That
is awesome.
Do
you have a spiel or technique when you approach strangers in the
street to sell tickets to them?
Yes, I
do. I have a very well honed script that ascertains whether they’re
free, makes me sound great and convinces them to hand over their
money on the street.
How
do you pick your targets?
People
who like Venn diagrams have a certain look about them. Those are my
guys. Oh, and if I see someone in a science t-shirt, they’re mine.
Have
you ever had any odd or awkward encounters selling your tickets?
Rarely.
It generally involves one drunken tool going “Jesus! Jesus! You
look like Jesus. Can I touch your beard?”
Any
violent encounters?
No.
Whenever I realise someone is an idiot I walk away with my flyer, and
then they can’t get a ticket. My audience has precisely zero
dickheads.
Any
romantic encounters?
I met my
girlfriend when I gave her a flyer on the street.
At
the time of writing these questions I think you had sold more than
100 tickets for your Opera House gig. Do you start the
internet-stalking phase of the operation immediately or just focus on
the sales part until you've sold out?
As I
write this I have another word document open with people’s names,
websites and other internet tidbits written down. The information
gathering has begun.
It
must be fun searching people on the internet and on Facebook. Some
might suggest that Comedy
Sale is just a way
of legitimising an otherwise slightly suspect activity. Your
thoughts?
As one
of the world’s few professional Facebook stalkers I wholeheartedly
encourage the pursuit. Like photos of potential dates from years ago,
befriend people you hate just troll their news feed and, of course,
look at profiles of your exes as often as possible.
Is
there any audience participation in the show? Have you ever managed
to get someone up on stage when they really, really, really, really
didn't want to go up on stage?
The
person who least wanted to go up on stage, Lee, was you and,
eventually, through the power of mass peer pressure you got on stage
and you ended up throwing a cream pie in my face. I reckon we ended
one all. That Melbourne show had the most people on stage because it
was proper old theatre and had lots of room for dicking about. The
elf in a lion costume fellating the woodsman, being serenaded by a
Belgian beatboxer with Jazz trumpet accompaniment, while a deer
hopped in the background was a highlight.
You
are obviously a people person. Tell us about the get-togethers you
arrange outside of your shows.
The
whole point of these shows is to try to create truly one off
experiences. So I try to do everything possible to make that happen.
On Sunday September 23rd
I’m having an afternoon of barefoot bowls at the Petersham Bowls
Club so the audience can get to know each other. I want them to be as
excited about the show as I am.
How
do you feel about performing at The Sydney Opera House?
It’s
unbelievable. I started selling tickets by hand just as a way of
getting people into my show. I had no idea I would end up on the
grandest stage of all.
I
noticed on your website your bit of Melbourne bashing when you moved
to Sydney, an obvious attempt to garner goodwill in your new host
city. Not that us Melburnians care at all in bashing that
superficial, shiny bauble of a city with its inflated prices, its
wankiness, its egostistic inhabitants preening themselves on their
beaches so that they're the best looking shark food money can buy...
with its vacuum of creativity and its nauseating air of
too-busy-on-the-treadmill-to-give-you-the-time-of-day-ness... erm...
how have you found Sydney so far?
Of all
my time in Australia I have spent 95% of it in Melbourne. I love
cafes, men with beards and girls with tattoos. I expected to hate
Sydney and Sydneysiders, and that hasn’t really happened. I’ve
been blown away by the harbour, the Opera House and the weather.
Finish
this sentence: Come to Sanderson Jones' Comedy
Sale gig at The
Sydney Opera house...
Because
it will be the greatest show in the history of matter.
1 comment:
Lee, you miss Sydney, don't you?
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