Review: Tom Ballard, dear reader, is gay. This isn't really much of a revelation, since he's very proudly out in his professional, Triple J-presenting life. Also, given that his show begins with him listing off all the things that he is – including "a gay", "a faggatron" and "a member of the no-pussy-posse" – this piece of information doesn't really constitute being much of a spoiler. And before you point out the obvious next point, having explained that his entire show is about coming to terms with being gay, Ballard quips "Well, it worked for Josh Thomas."
The difference is that Thomas's show, while very funny, had a bittersweet emotional core. Ballard's, by contrast, is pretty much non-stop jokes delivered by a 21 year old man who was raised in country Victoria and at times borders on the ocker (which he freely acknowledges: in one bit about gay bars he even comments on how he'll occasionally find himself faced with a particularly camp fellow patron "and I'll find myself thinking ‘Pff, fuckin' faggot – and then I'll go looking for a boy to kiss").
It gives his show a point of difference: after all, there are hundreds of one-man comedy shows about coming out, but Ballard's is gleefully matter-of-fact about everything. And his material, most importantly, absolutely kills – especially the section about his father, a worker for Vision Australia, forbidding his son to put money in the Guide Dogs box ("No! They're the competition!"). It's tightly paced, it's perfectly delivered and it's funny as hell. If you've not caught Ballard yet, do so during this run – if only so you can boast in years to come about seeing him in a tiny theatre way back when.