Are you a Comedian? Then tell us a joke.

Ah comedy. She has always been my first love.

Funny isn’t about jokes in my world. Sure, they play a part in it but to me, real humour exists in stories, life and truth. When you tell someone you are in the comedy business it can elicit a bunch of responses from people. To be honest, most of them are positive.

The one thing I have learned to deal with over the years is essential in the journey of a comedian… If you cannot ‘shake it off’ then I fear you are in the wrong industry.

I have never been a doctor, or a plumber, or a policeman. I wonder what happens when they meet a stranger. Does the stranger say to the doctor, “Are you a doctor? Prove it, fix some disease or something”. Do folks ask a plumber they’ve just met, “So boet, you tuning me that you are a plumber? Nah, you can’t be. Go and fix my toilet, then I will believe it”. It just doesn’t make sense that folks think some jobs need to be justified. I would never walk up to a cop and say, “Officer? Really? Prove it. Go and arrest that man over there”.

People are always using my job as a method to test me – to prove it. “Are you a comedian? Prove it, make me laugh!”

Trying to sum your career up with a few chosen words… Not easy. Not fun. Not fair. I normally ask them if they would like to hear a few words from my set, which of course, they say yes to.

It’s at that point I go, “I have been Martin Evans, goodnight” and walk away briskly.

It may not be funny but I wasn’t kidding. It’s from my set. It’s about all I can do to ‘shake it off’.

That would be the worst thing ever. But it gets worse. Normally the same folks who ask you to prove that you are comedian will also be the first people to volunteer to tell you a joke. Not a good joke. Not a funny joke. Not an original joke either.

Normally it will be something you last heard twenty years ago in the school grounds when some racist, ignorant kid was spouting off some rubbish they heard from their uncle… “Ja boet, you can use that in your set. You owe me now, hey!”

Stop it. Stop the nonsense.
Please, I beg you all


I bought one of those fold up bikes. Why? Because people cannot be trusted.

Folks are always going on about “going green” and saving the environment.

I have always suggested that we need to “stop the nonsense” when it comes to polluting our lovely planet.

I live in Cape Town. Some folks are quite negative about his place. I call it jealousy. You can call it what you want. But we have a small space in the city bowl and there isn’t a great deal of room for cars and parking.

So to combat this, I ride a bicycle.  This city is made for it. We have the Cape Town Cycle race here as well.  Something like 40 000 people take part in a ride that is over 113kms in length. So you can understand that people take riding bikes here quite seriously. 

I bought one of those folding bikes. You know the kind. It is the kind of bike that whilst being totally practical it is also totally ridiculed.  Everyone in SA rides for pleasure, not to commute. So people go off and spend like nine gazillion Rand on road bikes and mountain bikes that cost more than the GDP of Zimbabwe.  Me? I have my trusty folding steed.  But why a folding bike?  

There are many reasons. One of which is simple. I can fold it up and take it indoors with me.  This is South Africa, I could write a whole blog post on how many bikes I have had stolen over the years. I keep this thing attached to me at all times.  Why?  People cannot be trusted.  I just fold it up and push it along with me.  Some people have thought that I was unpacking and folding up a wheelchair, but no. It is just a fancy bike.  Also, being the fat and lazy man that I am, I can just as easily stick in the back seat or the boot of a friends car. I am no fool. If I can grab an easy ride in a car, just you watch me.  Unpacking the bike and folding has left some folks, particularly the homeless thinking I have just performed a magic trick. It is quite good fun I must admit.

Living where I am, it is actually quicker to cycle to the Cape Town Comedy Club, than it is for me to walk. So I ride.  I am ready for the bumps in the road, I am ready for the traffic and drivers that you just know will treat you like you are made of the of invisible ghost dust.  I am no fool. It is dangerous out there. I take my safety seriously. I have the helmet, the reflective gear, the various bike lights, and I make sure I use the cycle paths are all over this fine city. Sadly, nobody explained to all the trucks and drivers out there that there is a point to the cycle paths. That point of course being, THAT THEY ARE FOR BICYCLES.  So in an attempt to use them, you are forced to ride along your special little track, then veer into the main road and avoid being made into a flat white, much like the tasty hot beverages.   Someone in the city council needs to “Stop the nonsense”.  Cycle paths have if anything, made riding a bike more dangerous.

But by far the hardest part of riding a folding bike in Cape Town, its not the hills and the steep climbs and arriving sweaty.  It is not the fear of a truck not seeing you, no.  The hardest part of it all is being spotted by your friends and the hollering out of their office windows or cars or whatever as you ride down the road.  Looking like a dodgy Pacific Blue Bike Cop.

There is no coming back from that.

Please. Someone. Anyone. Just stop the nonsense. Now cycling may be difficult in Cape Town. But if you live in Johannesburg and you cycle you will need more than a bike. You will need medical aid and possibly a session at the Psychiatrist.


Fat unmotivated man turns 40 and you won’t believe what he does next.


Or is it?  I just turned 40.

40 years of doing what I can consider my own thing. How many of those years have been wasted I wonder?

I would hate to be one of those people that has an existential crisis just due to an age, but I think at the end of the day we are all subjecting ourselves to a series of standards and and controls that we feel we need to meet and exceed.

Am I happy?

Am I stimulated?

Could I be doing more with my life?
-again yes.

But here lies the issue.  What are the measuring sticks that we should be using to judge our success or failure.

Ok the failure ones are easy. We are all far too quick to see our own faults before our personal victories, but again, what am I judging myself against.

Maybe I need to use a car metaphor.  We all start our as standard factory fitted equipment.
Some of these cars over the years will turn out to be better investments than others. We cannot all be top of the range luxury German automobiles, but some of us, we take car of the chassis, we service the moving parts, we store ourselves in garages, some of us have taken the car off road and said “to hell with the consequences”

-you get the idea.

So what does 40 mean to me?
Should I have the house with the white picket fence and the 2.5 children going to private school?  Should I have investments and mortgages and medical aids that cost ten grand a month?


For every time I look at another persons lot, I need to remember that people are looking back..  For every moment I have failed, there are equal moments that I have succeeded (well to a degree without a degree at least).

Here is what I need to do at this juncture in my life.  I need to just keep doing what I have been doing. Maybe with a touch more direction because c’mon.  Nobody is perfect yeah.

But I am comfortable, and I am well set to make the next 40 years (That is a mix of a very long time and equally just around the corner) go rather well. But I also wonder about change.  I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do at 20, by 30 I had started, and now here at 40, I am wondering where the next change will come from.

Does growing older mean growing up?

Let’s see what 50 will be like.

Jim Jefferies Live in South Africa.

Some comics just get it right. Jim has been doing just that for years now.
I first got the chance to gig with him back in the UK in 2006 and loved his work.

I prefer my comics to say it as it is. Jim does just that.

Jim shot to prominence over a bloody youtube clip of him being punched. Granted it didn’t make him funnier, but it did make him famous.

A million of hits later and it certaily cemented some notoraity for a man who was going on to bigger things. Anyway, he moved to the USA a few years ago and has since seen his career skyrocket with his own show “Legit”

He has a string of specials and one-man shows out there too.

  • Jim Jeffries: Hell Bound: Live at The Comedy Store London – Released: 2008
  • Contraband – (5000 limited editions) Released: 10 November 2008 (UK Home Video)
  • I Swear to God – Broadcast: 16 May 2009; Released: 13 October 2009 (US Home Video)
  • Alcoholocaust – Released: 8 November 2010 (Comedy Central UK DVD)
  • Fully Functional – Release: October 2012
  • Bare – Release: 29 August 2014 (Netflix)

Jim has toured South Africa in the past, where I got the chance to open for him here in Cape Town.

He will be back soon with his brand new shop “Freedumb” and will be at the Grand Arena at Grand West Casino and at The Globe at Silverstar.

Jim Jefferies Freedumb SA 2015
I had a quick interview with Jim on Cape Talk/702 a few weeks ago.  Catch the interview here.

I have a few double tickets to give away.
Two double tickets for the shows at Silverstar and at Grand West.

In order to win, you need to comment on the blog at the bottom with the answer to the following question, along with your location (Jhb or Cape Town).

“What was the name of Jim Jefferies American Television show”

Answers below and the winners will be announced on Wednesday 22 July 2015.  The winners will be selected randomly for the reply’s.

Good Luck!

You know what gets on my nerves? #Stopthenonsense

You know what gets on my nerves?

Talent shows.  Not the kind of talent shows where we find the next dog that can bark the word “strawberries” in a French accent, whilst wearing a tutu.  No. I mean those pompous “lets find the next pop star” kind of shows.

You know the type. The formula is pretty simple. Take three or four judges of various dubious talents themselves and stick them on a panel, to pick away at the dreams of a demented farmer from Limpopo who queued overnight in Polokwane, or some Hairdresser with dreams over and above cutting fringes for the next thirty years.

Yes, there have been instances where talented individuals have come forward and shown the world that they are amazing and deserve our money and focus. But really. When did the public become involved with breaking the next new artist. When did becoming the “next big thing” be all about queuing up for hours to get a few minutes to show the judges that you are the boss?

I remember when the first of these shows came out. Suddenly there was two. Then three, then thirty. Syndicated world wide, with hours and hours and hours of schmaltz to deal with. But what gets me….is how they make the money on these shows.

Right. Here is contestant A from “Where-ever-ville”  If she doesn’t get through to the second round. Her mother may have a heart attack. FOLKS.. It is up to you now to vote for them via SMS.  Oh at a cheeky couple of rand each.  So not only do we tell the management who we like the most. We pay the money that gets the artist through to the next round, AND at the same time, making the producers of these shows who are already rich, so much richer that it actually starts to break society.

Oh I just don’t get it.  We need to #StopTheNonsensenonsense

Funny for money. Plus sized model. Professional tit. Words of wisdom and shame from Martin Evans.