My Monologue

A few months ago I wrote a monologue for a competition. I was one of the finalists which meant my monologue was performed every night for a week at His Majesty’s Theatre, here in Perth. It was a great opportunity and a real encouragement to see my words bring laughter to a crowded theatre.

The actor who performed my monologue  was Nick Candy, who can currently be seen on the TV ad for Blueprint Homes did a great job, and we both received a glowing review.

Below is the complete script. The performance on the night had to be less than 12 minutes, so a few paragraphs were cut. The theme was Treachery and Lechery in the 21st Century, which meant my story, inspired by my own experiences from a few years ago, was slightly ruder than my usual stuff.

A huge thanks must go to the Maj Monologues, presented by the Brainbox Project, and I’ll be sure to enter again next year.

Hit the Read More link for the whole shebang, and I hope you enjoy the dark humour.




The best thing about having one testicle is the jokes.

“What did the teste cancer patient say at the party?” “I’m having a ball!”

“What do Lance Armstrong and the Tower of Pisa have in common?” “ They both lean to the left.”

Ah, classic.

My own story to becoming a Uniballer is filled with laughs, greed and more needle marks than a Keith Richards weekend at home.

Four years ago, I was studying creative arts at Uni. It was my attempt to avoid working for a living. You see, many years ago, my grand parents won the second ever lottery in Australia. They were already wealthy and were shrewd investors, so they were able to retire in their fifties. As part of their will they left a hefty payment to my parents as long as they had children, and had the same deal for myself. So when I was born my parents’ bank account instantly became filled with more zeroes than my school report. My granddad was a rather paranoid Polish immigrant and was determined to keep the family name alive. He thought that if there was a generous financial reward encouraging children then his name would live on. Not a bad idea really, although it didn’t spur me on to pump out any kids. It just made me veer dangerously close to becoming Hugh Grant’s character in About A Boy – a selfish, bored waster of time and money. Landing at Uni was at least a pleasant distraction from any potential cubicle dwelling existence.

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