The Exford…it’s like that friendly old Uncle who had the most amazing stories but who dribbled and smelt of stale beer. No matter how intriguing the stories, you only visited now and then. Then one day he’s gone, and you’re left wondering what you missed out on.
Often regarded as the ugliest room in town, the Exford nonetheless had a certain charm, and if not that, some kind of magnetism that pulled you back. Maybe it was the combat-comedy element of the hecklers, maybe it was the no-holes-barred approach you could take (it was the first stage I dropped the c-word on) or maybe it was the levelling effect – a room full of backpackers doesn’t know if you’re Judith Lucy or Jane Doe… if you’re funny you’re funny.
One thing was certain at the Exford. You never knew what would happen next. Heckling turned to brawls, punters took performances for conversation, Ged Cogley got naked.
And why? For the kids. Over its 2.5 years Comedoke raised thousands of dollars for the Royal Children’s Hospital.
The last night at Exford, MC’d by Exford regular Evan Jones was a bittersweet affair. The crowd ranged from ambivalent to enraged, and one of them either had, or impersonated brilliantly, tourettes. Around the edges stood many comedians, it was a reunion of comrades who had fought and died or been victorious at the Exford, some who had done both, many times. There was Jamie McCarney, the brains behind the operation, as always, behind the sounddesk but never on the stage, despite his theatrical excellence. There was Aaron Keeffe, leader of the Guinness World Record breaking comedy show held at the Exford (53 hours 11 minutes). There was Exford-regular Jason Carstens, who closed the night.
The line up was long, with many comics keen to have one last turn, and as usual featured a broad range from up-and-comers to experienced acts. Highlights included Ged Cogley taking a choir of punters and comics across into the 7 Eleven to sing Wham’s Last Christmas to an unsuspecting cashier, and Karl Chandler and Andrew Drinnan’s observational comedy duel (in pyjamas and a soccer uniform respectively).
One of the most interesting things about this night was the mood. Part reunion, part wake. A celebration, but a certain melancholy. It really was as though we’d all assumed the Exford would just always be there. Many comedians closed their sets speaking about how they’d miss the Exford, and the sentiment was in stark contrast to their pub humour, and in many cases, blokey personas. For all the things the Exford was, it was somewhere, in my experience, where comics from all walks of life came together for a beer and got along.
Many comics see the Exford as unique, but for different reasons, Jaymie Wilson put it, “Being a Bogan type of guy from a ruff neck country town The Exford was the only Venue where I felt like I was performing in front of my home town. The was nothing false about it, it didn’t pretend to be nothing more than the Exford and that’s what made it special.”.
John Burgos comments on how the city’s most dangerous room was perhaps also its safest, “The Exford was a great training ground for new comics. There was something unique about that place that other clubs and pubs cannot capture. Sure it wasn’t the kind of place you would bring an agent to see your act and it was hostile at times, but always challenging and fun. It was a place where you knew that death or success would not affect you in the greater scheme of comedy, it was merely there to try new and different things. When we were in there it was our place. It was also great to know that, even though you were not getting paid, money was going to a worthy cause. I will miss it.”
Halley Metcalfe confirms that there’s nothing quite like an Exford Education, ‘I learnt something new every gig I had there, it was the first place I ever MC’d and I never knew if I was going to get bottled by a biker, or picked up… (I was up for either…). The Exford will be sorely missed’.
The pub itself has changed and so will its activities one assumes. Downstairs is looking much neater with exposed brick walls and if I’m not incorrect more suits (drunken disorderly suits, but suits nonetheless). The new upstairs, just a concrete cavern last Comedy Festival is looking decidedly dapper with polished floors and pressed tin ceilings. It seems ‘ol Uncle Exford has sorted himself out! Best of luck!
Lou Pardi is a Melbourne comedian