The Fabulous Adam Richard


In lieu of a blog entry, I have decided to paste in some short fiction I wrote over ten years ago, before I became a standup comedian. This first piece was inspired by a friend who I caught up with this weekend at a 20 year school reunion. (Yes, mamma is an old girl now!)

We had the most insane relationship, full of laughter, and now that all of the water has flowed under the bridge, I hope we can have that kind of friendship again.

This piece is very heavy, so don't go reading it if you are having an emo moment and there are sharp objects nearby.

Distant Laughter

This is a story I wrote in 1996 while enrolled in the Professional Writing and Editing course at RMIT. It was one of the winners of the Outrage Magazine Short Story Competition in 1996 in the category "Best Short Story by a writer under 25." It deals with themes of loss and grief, and the effect they have on our perception of time, which appear frequently in my work.

Buy a Chop for Xmas

The delightful Ethel Chop has an iPhone app.

Don't ask me how that cranky old crone got herself on the young people's wireless device, but there you are.

You can pick it up at the App Store.

(Basically, you press a button, and she witters on about, well, the kind of things that Ethel has a penchant to witter on about).


I know that Idol was a great big bucket of nobodies this year, but sometimes a talent bubbles to the surface when you least expect it. Jacob Butler, who I adored not only on Idol but also on X Factor, is divinely talented, and better than a reality contestant should be. His song, Coma, is being used on the Neighbours finale promo. Check out the full clip with Pippa Black here. He's not backed by a label, and deserves all our support.

The Bunch on Mix 94.5

For those of you not in the delightful city of Perth, here's what you're missing out on every Friday morning:



Listen Here


Limpy IV - The Slow Voyage Home

I thought we were all said and done in the land of limpy, but alas, no. I have become increasingly frustrated with the lack of speed when it comes to hobbling around the place, and I may have, once or twice, put a bit too much pressure on my poor little toe and her busted phalanges. (I don't know why my little toe is female, but there you are. I think it may actually be a male toe, but because I'm camp, I call everything 'she,' regardless).

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