This evening we head to Fox Studios, home of film sets and red carpet movie premieres in Sydney. We’ve booked tickets to the Comedy Club, though we’re not amused by the fact that they don’t do on-the-spot student discounts. Should have indicated so when you booked, they tell us, though their online form was conspicuously lacking in student options. Sneaky, that.

In any event, keeping with the theme of Sydney’s beachside suburbs, the first act is a suntanned blond from Bondi, though he’s quick to point out he’s down from Brisbane. His whole set, in fact, is based around bitching about the Bondi beach folk. He’s had a gutful of eco this and bio that, he tells us – “there’s nothing artifical there except for the people.”

Granted, though, he admits that an event like the race riots that rocked the southern suburb of Cronulla a few years ago could never happen in Bondi. “Can you imagine five guys from Lebanon – sorry, Lakemba – piling into their Skyline to brave the traffic to Bondi? ‘Aw man, what toime this riot start anyway, we gonna be late…Oh moi god, man, parking’s foive bucks an hour, how long’s this riot gonna last anyway?’” They’d have to park in Vaucluse, our comic says, three suburbs over, and by the time they got to the beach they wouldn’t be able to find any Aussies there to beat up anyway, on account of Bondi being the hub of the backpacker trail.

This guy’s a riot, so to speak, but sadly the next act is slightly more ordinary and so on progressively through the night until the aging headliner comes on and bores everyone to tears for 45 minutes with his lame attempts to show us how cool he is by cracking lots of weed jokes.