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The Age
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
‘People think I'm a way better bloke than I am': Why this comedian is trashing his do-good image
It was the night of the US election, and Luke Kidgell was working at a venue in Los Angeles. An Aussie abroad, watching history unfold. The residents of the predominantly blue Californian state were anxiously awaiting the results, though many of those Kidgell had spoken to before had resigned themselves to an incoming Republican president. At the venue, the emcee hopped on the mic every 30 minutes, updating the audience with the latest vote count, slowly but surely confirming their worst fears. Tough gig for the guy on stage trying to make everyone laugh. As we sit down to lunch, Kidgell tells me that some crowds are inevitably better than others, though a bunch of progressives staring down four more years of Donald Trump wasn't his toughest audience. That, he says, was when he opened for Steve-O, a prankster from the dangerously disgusting 2000s-era show Jackass. Steve-O became famous for stunts such as sticking a hook through his cheek and throwing himself into the ocean as 'shark bait'. It was safe to say his audience came to the gig expecting some hardcore content. 'They didn't want the jokes,' Kidgell says with a laugh. 'It was just a bunch of neckbeards in heavy metal T-shirts waiting for Steve-O. Like, 'Why is this little boy on stage?'' Difficult shows are bound to happen when you relentlessly tour the world for four years – the trick is to dwell for no more than 24 hours before getting over it, Kidgell says. He is one of a handful of Australian comedians who can regularly sell out shows from Europe to America, at famed venues such as LA's Laugh Factory and Indigo at London's O2 Arena. If you haven't heard of him, you're probably not on TikTok, where he has amassed millions of followers and posts clips of improvised interactions with crowds. Those international gigs are a long way from Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs, where Kidgell grew up. He still lives nearby, and he chose this, his local pub, for our lunch because in his mind 'it would be funny' but also 'extremely convenient'. We arrive at the Diamond Creek Hotel, affectionately known as the Diamo pub, and take in the atmosphere. 'I've never been here at this hour,' Kidgell says, appraising the grandparents shuffling between the bistro and pokie machines. 'I've never made a better choice in my life. It's awesome.' The meal he orders reveals as much about his simple tastes as the location, despite his globetrotting lifestyle. Kidgell ignores my efforts to elevate our dining experience by pointing out there are oysters on the menu, and states he wants a parma. He says it with such conviction that I hurry to the counter – there's no table service, and drinks are ordered separately at the bar – forgetting we are also supposed to get sides. On the spot, I order my Dorito-crumbed chicken burger, glance over the menu again and pick the popcorn cauliflower for a side. Wrong choice. When it arrives at the table, Kidgell looks at the dish as if it has just told a very bad joke, calls it a bold order and doesn't touch it throughout the meal. (The parma, smothered in stretchy, wet cheese, and a side of chips are meticulously devoured.) My Dorito burger has certainly got its namesake crunch, but I forgot to ask for no jalapenos, so I put it down and return to our conversation. Doing stand-up comedy might be many people's worst nightmare but Kidgell relishes it. He recalls his first-ever gig at the Imperial Hotel near Melbourne's Parliament Station: 'I think I got, like, three laughs, but it was enough to get me to come back.' The 29-year-old has been chasing those laughs since he was a teen in high school, which is where we first met, though we haven't caught up for more than a decade. I remember him as someone who was more interested in joking around than studying, dedicating endless hours of his lunchtime filming skits with his friends. The videos would be posted to the early iterations of Facebook in a group that quickly developed a mass following among his classmates. I ask Kidgell to describe what he was like when he was younger, and whether it was natural that he went on to make people laugh for a living. 'Can you [describe me]?' he asks instead. 'I would classify you as a class clown-type,' I say. 'You can use the term attention-seeker,' he says. 'That's probably more accurate.' He reveals to me over lunch that it was in our high school history class he was told for the first time he should be a stand-up comic – by a likely disgruntled teacher tired of his interruptions, but still. '[She said] you should do stand-up comedy, laughed, and then walked away,' he recalls. 'I have a distinct memory of her saying that ... It was the first time anyone's ever suggested it, even if it was a joke. She was probably like, 'That would be the worst'. And I was like, 'She's onto something'.' Kidgell admits he was never particularly studious, and he has certainly maintained his laid-back demeanour, lounging in his chair on the Diamo pub's balcony in his plain white tee and jeans. 'I was capable, but didn't apply myself – the correct terminology is underachiever,' he says. I try to tease out what goes into building such an impressive brand, having seen the shift from that kid goofing off in class, but he's reluctant to talk about his success. Kidgell brushes off the size of his social media following, cringes when I use the word 'fans', and claims comedians leech more off society than they contribute. ('Oh, such a service that we do,' he quips. 'Getting up there and having people pay to hear our thoughts!') But a serious drive lurks beneath that unassuming surface. Kidgell co-owns a business with his brother and manager, Jack, and they have 10 employees working on a plethora of projects: they have a new, self-produced comedy special; they've built an almost 3 million-strong social media following; Kidgell is in the midst of a three-year-long tour schedule; he's just written a new show; he performs up to four times a week when he's in Melbourne; and he has a podcast. And his attention to detail extends beyond being able to mop up every inch of a pub parma. Kidgell colour codes his writing so he can tell how funny his script is at a glance, and he keeps track of how many gigs he's done – 1304 at the time of interview. Oh, and he's training for a marathon. 'I only really do the [social media] videos as a means to make it a career,' he eventually elaborates. 'I just knew it would sell me tickets, and it worked. I think it worked better than I thought it would. I kind of was just like, 'Oh, man, if I could just do this full-time, that'd be great'. And now we've started a whole business, and it's a whole thing.' Kidgell rode the wave of social media as Instagram and then TikTok exploded, and says being online is increasingly becoming a requirement for entertainers to get exposure. 'I think every comedian now has realised that you need to be on social media. And it works,' he says. 'It's where most people under 30 consume media. I don't know why you wouldn't be on it at this point. It would be a disservice to your career if you weren't where everyone's eyes are.' He says his willingness to take a punt and improvise with crowds plays well online, but it was an interaction with a woman with Tourette's in regional New South Wales that first propelled his content into virality. 'She started ticking,' he says. 'She said eff off, which is not uncommon in Tamworth, so I just thought it was a regular heckle.' She explained and they had a laugh, and the interaction went viral. She came up after the gig and thanked him; she didn't normally feel comfortable going to shows. 'Then a bunch of other people with Tourette's started coming to my shows, and I ended up doing a fundraiser for them last year,' Kidgell says. 'That's the thing, people get so uncomfortable joking about it. [But people with Tourette's are] Like, as long as you're not being mean, and you're including us in it, it's great. So I think that has been maybe a bit of a point that has differentiated me in the sense that I don't go in on people – unless they deserve it.' But he wants people to know he's no angel. In fact, it's the theme of his show Good Intentions, which he's touring Australia on the back of another stint in the US. 'People think I'm a way better bloke than I am,' he says. 'That's what my new show is about. It's about me telling people, like, I'm not actually that nice.' Kidgell looks around and says he doesn't go to the Diamo pub that frequently any more. His friends refuse to come with him at weekends because he gets recognised too often, though he glances towards the pokies-playing pensioners this Tuesday lunchtime and reckons we're safe for now. 'We have the pub at home now,' he says. '[My partner] Meg got me a kegerator for Christmas. It's like a beer tap in a fridge, so now we just do it up the road. 'But the parmas aren't as good.'
Sydney Morning Herald
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘People think I'm a way better bloke than I am': Why this comedian is trashing his do-good image
It was the night of the US election, and Luke Kidgell was working at a venue in Los Angeles. An Aussie abroad, watching history unfold. The residents of the predominantly blue Californian state were anxiously awaiting the results, though many of those Kidgell had spoken to before had resigned themselves to an incoming Republican president. At the venue, the emcee hopped on the mic every 30 minutes, updating the audience with the latest vote count, slowly but surely confirming their worst fears. Tough gig for the guy on stage trying to make everyone laugh. As we sit down to lunch, Kidgell tells me that some crowds are inevitably better than others, though a bunch of progressives staring down four more years of Donald Trump wasn't his toughest audience. That, he says, was when he opened for Steve-O, a prankster from the dangerously disgusting 2000s-era show Jackass. Steve-O became famous for stunts such as sticking a hook through his cheek and throwing himself into the ocean as 'shark bait'. It was safe to say his audience came to the gig expecting some hardcore content. 'They didn't want the jokes,' Kidgell says with a laugh. 'It was just a bunch of neckbeards in heavy metal T-shirts waiting for Steve-O. Like, 'Why is this little boy on stage?'' Difficult shows are bound to happen when you relentlessly tour the world for four years – the trick is to dwell for no more than 24 hours before getting over it, Kidgell says. He is one of a handful of Australian comedians who can regularly sell out shows from Europe to America, at famed venues such as LA's Laugh Factory and Indigo at London's O2 Arena. If you haven't heard of him, you're probably not on TikTok, where he has amassed millions of followers and posts clips of improvised interactions with crowds. Those international gigs are a long way from Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs, where Kidgell grew up. He still lives nearby, and he chose this, his local pub, for our lunch because in his mind 'it would be funny' but also 'extremely convenient'. We arrive at the Diamond Creek Hotel, affectionately known as the Diamo pub, and take in the atmosphere. 'I've never been here at this hour,' Kidgell says, appraising the grandparents shuffling between the bistro and pokie machines. 'I've never made a better choice in my life. It's awesome.' The meal he orders reveals as much about his simple tastes as the location, despite his globetrotting lifestyle. Kidgell ignores my efforts to elevate our dining experience by pointing out there are oysters on the menu, and states he wants a parma. He says it with such conviction that I hurry to the counter – there's no table service, and drinks are ordered separately at the bar – forgetting we are also supposed to get sides. On the spot, I order my Dorito-crumbed chicken burger, glance over the menu again and pick the popcorn cauliflower for a side. Wrong choice. When it arrives at the table, Kidgell looks at the dish as if it has just told a very bad joke, calls it a bold order and doesn't touch it throughout the meal. (The parma, smothered in stretchy, wet cheese, and a side of chips are meticulously devoured.) My Dorito burger has certainly got its namesake crunch, but I forgot to ask for no jalapenos, so I put it down and return to our conversation. Doing stand-up comedy might be many people's worst nightmare but Kidgell relishes it. He recalls his first-ever gig at the Imperial Hotel near Melbourne's Parliament Station: 'I think I got, like, three laughs, but it was enough to get me to come back.' The 29-year-old has been chasing those laughs since he was a teen in high school, which is where we first met, though we haven't caught up for more than a decade. I remember him as someone who was more interested in joking around than studying, dedicating endless hours of his lunchtime filming skits with his friends. The videos would be posted to the early iterations of Facebook in a group that quickly developed a mass following among his classmates. I ask Kidgell to describe what he was like when he was younger, and whether it was natural that he went on to make people laugh for a living. 'Can you [describe me]?' he asks instead. 'I would classify you as a class clown-type,' I say. 'You can use the term attention-seeker,' he says. 'That's probably more accurate.' He reveals to me over lunch that it was in our high school history class he was told for the first time he should be a stand-up comic – by a likely disgruntled teacher tired of his interruptions, but still. '[She said] you should do stand-up comedy, laughed, and then walked away,' he recalls. 'I have a distinct memory of her saying that ... It was the first time anyone's ever suggested it, even if it was a joke. She was probably like, 'That would be the worst'. And I was like, 'She's onto something'.' Kidgell admits he was never particularly studious, and he has certainly maintained his laid-back demeanour, lounging in his chair on the Diamo pub's balcony in his plain white tee and jeans. 'I was capable, but didn't apply myself – the correct terminology is underachiever,' he says. I try to tease out what goes into building such an impressive brand, having seen the shift from that kid goofing off in class, but he's reluctant to talk about his success. Kidgell brushes off the size of his social media following, cringes when I use the word 'fans', and claims comedians leech more off society than they contribute. ('Oh, such a service that we do,' he quips. 'Getting up there and having people pay to hear our thoughts!') But a serious drive lurks beneath that unassuming surface. Kidgell co-owns a business with his brother and manager, Jack, and they have 10 employees working on a plethora of projects: they have a new, self-produced comedy special; they've built an almost 3 million-strong social media following; Kidgell is in the midst of a three-year-long tour schedule; he's just written a new show; he performs up to four times a week when he's in Melbourne; and he has a podcast. And his attention to detail extends beyond being able to mop up every inch of a pub parma. Kidgell colour codes his writing so he can tell how funny his script is at a glance, and he keeps track of how many gigs he's done – 1304 at the time of interview. Oh, and he's training for a marathon. 'I only really do the [social media] videos as a means to make it a career,' he eventually elaborates. 'I just knew it would sell me tickets, and it worked. I think it worked better than I thought it would. I kind of was just like, 'Oh, man, if I could just do this full-time, that'd be great'. And now we've started a whole business, and it's a whole thing.' Kidgell rode the wave of social media as Instagram and then TikTok exploded, and says being online is increasingly becoming a requirement for entertainers to get exposure. 'I think every comedian now has realised that you need to be on social media. And it works,' he says. 'It's where most people under 30 consume media. I don't know why you wouldn't be on it at this point. It would be a disservice to your career if you weren't where everyone's eyes are.' He says his willingness to take a punt and improvise with crowds plays well online, but it was an interaction with a woman with Tourette's in regional New South Wales that first propelled his content into virality. 'She started ticking,' he says. 'She said eff off, which is not uncommon in Tamworth, so I just thought it was a regular heckle.' She explained and they had a laugh, and the interaction went viral. She came up after the gig and thanked him; she didn't normally feel comfortable going to shows. 'Then a bunch of other people with Tourette's started coming to my shows, and I ended up doing a fundraiser for them last year,' Kidgell says. 'That's the thing, people get so uncomfortable joking about it. [But people with Tourette's are] Like, as long as you're not being mean, and you're including us in it, it's great. So I think that has been maybe a bit of a point that has differentiated me in the sense that I don't go in on people – unless they deserve it.' But he wants people to know he's no angel. In fact, it's the theme of his show Good Intentions, which he's touring Australia on the back of another stint in the US. 'People think I'm a way better bloke than I am,' he says. 'That's what my new show is about. It's about me telling people, like, I'm not actually that nice.' Kidgell looks around and says he doesn't go to the Diamo pub that frequently any more. His friends refuse to come with him at weekends because he gets recognised too often, though he glances towards the pokies-playing pensioners this Tuesday lunchtime and reckons we're safe for now. 'We have the pub at home now,' he says. '[My partner] Meg got me a kegerator for Christmas. It's like a beer tap in a fridge, so now we just do it up the road. 'But the parmas aren't as good.'
Axios
30-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Axios
ComFest, Steve-O, an NHL Draft Party and other Columbus weekend events
🥳 Party with a purpose at ComFest, back for its 53rd year at Goodale Park. Noon-11pm Friday, 10am-11pm Saturday and 10am-6pm Sunday. Free! 🏒 Meet fellow hockey fans during the Blue Jackets' official NHL draft watch party at Nationwide Arena. 6-9pm Friday. Free! ☠️ See "Jackass" star Steve-O when his "Crash & Burn Tour" stops at the Funny Bone. 7pm and 9:45pm Friday, 6:30pm and 9:15pm Saturday, 145 Easton Town Center. $37. 🎤 Celebrate 35 years of harmony with the Columbus Gay Men's Chorus during " 35-n-Thrivin'" at the Davidson Theatre. 7:30pm Saturday and 2pm Sunday, 77 S. High St. $10-56.
Irish Independent
30-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Independent
See inside former Wicklow schoolhouse that hosted ‘Jackass' TV star's wild parties
Located in Castlemacadam, just outside Avoca village, 'Old School House' is steeped in history, serving as the Castlemacadam National School from 1887 before being transformed into an enchanting, granite stone family home that caught the eye of one Hollywood party animal. Known for his outlandish stunts on MTV's Jackass, and the Wildboyz spin-off with Steve-O, entertainer and actor Chris Pontius purchased Old School House in the early 2000s. Reflecting his 'Party Boy' persona on the hit TV show and cultural phenomenon, a spokesperson for McDonnell Properties revealed that 'many wild parties were reported' during Pontius' ownership. In pristine condition throughout, having been lovingly maintained and preserved by the current owner, the c.227 sqm home has many original features. Entering from the parking area of what would have been the schoolmaster's home, a hallway with original flagstone flooring leads to a cosy sitting room with a solid-fuel feature fireplace, a guest bathroom and the utility room, which was the main entrance to the school. The bespoke handmade kitchen and diner/lounge has glazed floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, a large kitchen island, an oil-fired AGA, granite worktops, hardwood flooring and space for a large dining table to comfortably sit eight people. The lounge area of the room features a multi-solid fuel burning stove and exposed original beams. Stepping down two steps to a large double room with original wood floors, the main suite has fitted wardrobes, views of the garden, its own access to the back garden and an en suite with a large walk-in shower. There are three further bedrooms with picture windows and wooden bench seats upstairs, along with a generously sized family bathroom. Old School House sits on approximately 1.65 acres of well-maintained, south-facing gardens and boasts a large paddock area, with access to a sunny deck provided via the kitchen/living room.
Yahoo
03-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Steve-O 'Crash and Burn' tour brings 'naughtier' stunts to Canada: 'I really treasure my Canadian passport'
Following his successful Bucket List tour and comedy special, Jackass star Steve-O is retuning to Canada for "The Crash and Burn Tour," beginning April 3. Once again pushing the boundaries on daring and shocking stunts, while also having honed his comedy skills, the multimedia show is one not to be missed, coming to cities including London, Ont., on April 8, Toronto on April 9, Ottawa on April 10 and Montreal on April 11. "I always love going to Canada. I really treasure my Canadian passport so much," Steve-O told Yahoo Canada about returning to the country for his tour. "I always have, but more and more, I just really value my Canadian citizenship." Steve-O was born in the U.K. to a Canadian mother and American father. As he journeys through Canada, Steve-O is also travelling with his special road buddy, his dog Moon Pie who, unlike Steve-O's beloved dog Wendy, isn't afraid of the tour bus. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Steve-O (@steveo) This time around, for the Crash and Burn tour, Steve-O is leaning into the fact that the famous stunt performer turned 50. "I would say that this show's really about me confronting middle age," Steve-O said. "I actually turned 50, and as unlikely as it seems that Steve-O would have made it to 50, I'm actually in really good physical shape and seeking to beat myself up as much as ever." "Not all the ideas I came up with for this tour proved to be very good ones, there were a lot of really outrageously hilarious fails, and for everything that failed I doubled down on something else to make sure that I could bring a worthy show." But if you still think age could be a barrier for Steve-O, he's promising an even "naughtier" show this time around. "I go out of my way to create even naughtier content than I could create for Jackass," Steve-O said. "Because that's always my motivation, to just be naughty and break rules and the crazy stuff." If you haven't seen Bucket List and you're questioning what a Steve-O comedy show will be like, you're not alone. "People don't really know what it's going to be and I've never been particularly upset about that," Steve-O said. "I think that's fine, and if anything, I viewed it as a benefit for people to come to my show with some low or no expectations." "Because I just believe so much in what I'm doing that if people come, they don't know what they're going to get, maybe they're not sure how great it's going to be, then the consensus is pretty much always, wow that was a lot better than I expected." But after seeing multiple Steve-O shows, there's something special about his live, multimedia experience, whether you've been a fan since the beginning of Jackass on MTV, or even if it was never your thing. Firstly, you realize that as raucous as Steve-O is, he really takes the time to craft an impressive show. Secondly, the energy in the room is absolutely magnetic. It's a collective bonding experience for the audience, alongside Steve-O, to laugh, gasp, and even cringe and shield their eyes from some of his stunts. It's an experience unique to Steve-O, making his shows unlike anything else you'll see. But throughout the years there have been headlines threatening that Steve-O's latest, greatest stunt will be his last. While he's toyed with the idea, Steve-O's keeping the door open, even to when he's a 90-year-old man. "I've gone back and forth on that. I've treated this show as if it's going to be my last real physical stunt thing," Steve-O said. "I don't want to commit one way or another to whether I'm going to keep doing stunts or not." "[But] I kind of turned the corner a little bit. I imagined what a 90-year-old Steve-O would have to say to me. And I pictured this 90-year-old Steve-O just saying, 'Dude, stop being such a little bitch. F**king go for it. Make your own rules.' ... If I was to think the [show] I'm working on now, there's going to be a bunch after it, it would probably be too daunting. So, yeah, I think as a tool for raising the bar, just viewing every project [as the] last one is helpful." Tickets are currently on sale for Steve-O's Crash and Burn comedy tour. Purchase tickets for a tour date near you here.
