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Life in the Big Shoes A Play by Wayne Anthoney Humbolt the Clown has spent many years entertaining both city kids and Aboriginal children in the bush. Suddenly, he finds himself in for a career change:
Here follows an excerpt from Wayne's solo play, "Life In The Big Shoes." You can follow the link at bottom for the full version. “In
1995, me having been at the coalface of urban and outback clowning
for about twenty years, something amazing happened.
I got a phone call.
I’d made a lot of friends in the Centre in those years and one
day, when I was at home in Adelaide, scratching my balls and waiting for
my agent to ring, ha ha hollow laugh, right out of the blue one of those
bush friends rang and asked me to come up and work for him.
His name was Laurie Gorman. He was the Executive Officer for
Nyangatjatjara Aboriginal Corporation. He had a big project on and he
needed help and he reckoned I was the go. I thought about it for a
millisecond and said, “Yep!” I said, “When do I start?” He said,
“Tomorrow.”
Overnight, I stopped the clowning, stopped the stand-up comedy,
stopped the pretence of being an actor, left the city and went bush to
work for Laurie Gorman and Nyangatjatjara Corporation.
(LAUGH) Talk about a sea change! Suddenly, I, Humbolt the Clown,
was a Project Manager. For Nyangatjatjara Aboriginal Corporation. Laurie
handballed me the job of planning, developing and building a secondary
school for Aboriginal kids at Ayers Rock. He lived at Ayers Rock. I
moved in with him. A
LONG PAUSE. HUMBOLT EYEBALLS THE AUDIENCE SLOWLY. THEN HE TURNS AWAY AND
LOOKS OUT OF THE WINDOW AGAIN.
(TO THE AUDIENCE) I know what you’re thinking. You’re
thinking: Humbolt the Project Manager? Aboriginal Corporation?
Bull…shit. Right? You think I’m making this up. HUMBOLT
TURNS BACK TO THE AUDIENCE, PICKS UP PHONE, DIALS, ROLE-PLAYS A PROJECT
MANAGER
Colin. It’s Wayne. Yeah, good mate, good. Yeah, flat out. Is
that rain I can hear? Bloody amazing. I know! Yeah! It rained here for
four hours last night. The place’s is bloody awash. Amazing. Yeah. Heh,
supposed to be a desert. Anyway, back to reality. Look, there’s a
couple of things. You did say I could have the detailed drawings Friday
and I still haven’t got them. OK, I understand that. When can I have
’em? (PAUSE) See, I told you, Resort Management are having their
quarterly meeting this Friday and we HAVE to have the presentation for
them. I have to do it! Otherwise, they’ll have us for breakfast. Mate,
today’s Tuesday. We have to. I know, mate. (PAUSE) Thursday morning.
Good. You bloody better have them. OK. I have to press your buttons,
that’s my job! OK, number two, what’s this item in your budget,
“Contingencies?” Yes, I know what it means but why is it fifty-two
thousand dollars? No, I didn’t say that.
Yes, I know we’re mates. No. Listen to me, what’s it for?
Don’t get defensive. I need a breakdown. (LAUGHS) You’re having a
breakdown? I’ve got to give the government mob more information. I had
a specific enquiry from Peter Hains, what’s in the contingencies
budget? Ah, come on, Colin. Good. OK. Yeah, fax it. Thanks mate. Talk to
you tomorrow. Yeah. Love to Claire. Ciaou. HUMBOLT
HANGS UP, SWIVELS CHAIR, TURNS TO AUDIENCE
Easy peasy. Piece of cake. Role play. I role-play a clown, I
role-play a project manager. That wasn’t me being a hard bastard
because Colin’s a mate. You ought to hear me role-play a hard bastard
and sail into some poor, incompetent prick in Canberra! There’s me in
a demountable building in the desert in the 45-degree heat, shouting
down the phone at some peanut in Canberra who seems to think Aborigines
are well off! Sometimes I quite enjoyed it. Woo hoo! Unfortunately, the
peanuts pulled the purse strings, so I had to learn a bit of
dissembling, a modicum of discretion. PHONE
RINGS
Hello? Wayne Anthoney speaking. Roger! Yes, it is warm. About 45
degrees warm. Snowing? You’re joking. Half your luck. Yeah, global
climate change. No, I rang yesterday arvo but I missed you. They said
you’d gone. About half past two. Flexi-time. Ah. Yeah, we don’t have
that here, mate. (PAUSE, LISTENING) I faxed that through two days ago.
All complete. Your name on the cover sheet. Big letters. (SHARPLY) I
know you’ve been waiting for it. I said, I sent it two days ago
(PAUSE) How would I know? OK, I’ll fax it again. I’ll do it straight
away. See you. Bye bye. (HANGS UP, TURNS) Fuckin’ idiot. Twenty-five
pages. How could he lose it? SOUND
EFFECTS – CLAPSTICKS SWELL AND FADE But there was a lot more than coping with idiots. We were building a high school for Aboriginal kids in the desert, for God’s sake! |
