THE MELBOURNE INTERNATIONAL COMEDY FESTIVAL IS OVER (and great, don't get me wrong) but I bit off way more than I could chew during it.

In this COLD HARD FAX REVEAL I reveal how much money did I lose during the festival. What a wild ride it was.

THE PARTS:

00:00 The Introduction

04:22 Part 1: The Dream

10:53 Part 2: The Math

16:34 Part 3: The Existential Crisis

20:10 Part 4: Would I do it again.

Some algorithm text, read it or don't, it is up to you:

$redacted. That's the exact price tag of my comedy festival dream. After two years of performing at smaller venues outside Melbourne's CBD, I was determined to go big—securing the Doubletree Hilton opposite Flinders Street Station for my show "From Brunswick With Love." The location was perfect, the time slot ideal, and the potential to make $30,000 if I sold out every night seemed worth the gamble.

Reality hit hard when I tallied up the costs: $400 for festival registration, $700 wasted on ineffective Facebook ads, $260 for tech support, $168 for parking, $1,600 in venue deposits, and an additional $670 payment when ticket sales fell short. Despite performing for over 100 people throughout the run, the financial math was brutal and unforgiving.

What I discovered was far more valuable than the money lost. Post-COVID audiences were emerging from "lockdown brain" but still feeling the pressure of rising living costs. They weren't willing to take chances on solo performers without followings, instead hedging their bets on lineup shows or established names. My experience confirmed what veterans had warned me about—location and timing matter far less than audience development and show packaging.

The pressure of trying to fill that 120-seat room made me a better comedian, forcing me to elevate my game. But more importantly, it clarified what comedy truly is: not prestigious venues or perfect time slots, but one person with a microphone connecting authentically with an audience. Would I do it all again? Yes—but very differently, with a smaller venue and much less financial pressure. Sometimes you need to chase the glittering dream to discover that the real magic was in the simpler approach all along.

Subscribe to join my revolution that stands for absolutely nothing, and follow my journey as I continue chasing comedy dreams—just with better math next time.

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