For years, journalist Sweeney Preston issued dating advice for a major news conglomerate while his own love life was the stuff of noncommittal nightmares. Now, at this year’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival, Sweeney’s comedy-turned-conference-turned-confessional ‘Australia’s Worst Journalist’ broadcasts his story in full, excruciating detail (slideshow presentation included).
I questioned what exactly I’d signed up for as a guy in chinos ushered showgoers inside a glorified pantry beneath the Motley WhereHaus known simply as ‘The Vault’, but my worries were (mostly) put to rest as said chino-wearing guy made his way onstage. It was Sweeney Preston, armed with but a microphone and a clicker. With little preamble, he dove into a gritty self-exposé delivered via PowerPoint: harrowing retellings of Tinder dates, romantic getaways for one, radio-broadcasted roasts and roasting sage when all else failed. ‘Australia’s Worst Journalist’ put Sweeney in the proverbial stockyard, exposing his own articles and the ironic stories behind them to an entire pen of onlookers. As a writer, I felt a sick sense of survivor’s guilt, but as a writer whose work wasn’t up on that screen? Couldn’t be more entertained.
Sweeney was hilarious. Highly in tune with the room, he bantered off the cuff and even finessed the audience into the material itself, but this didn’t surprise me in the least. He’s a journalist—they’ll do anything for clicks (IYGIYGI). Even when veering off on baffling tangents, his stage presence and command of the narrative brought with it complete faith that there was always a line to be punched at the end. A tightly written, cheeky hour of non-stop self-deprecation served by a natural storyteller.
‘Australia’s Worst Journalist’ toes the line between public humiliation and raw honesty to create an incredibly relatable confessional piece, not just for fellow journalists and writers but anyone ever guilty of trying. Curating the persona of ‘you’ takes trial, error and a fair amount of bullshitting first. It also means you have to keep throwing that self at the wall to see what about it sticks and what sticks isn’t always what you’re most proud (or even capable) of. For all it’s a comedy show, ‘Australia’s Worst Journalist’ gets that and that’s why it works so well.
Sweeney Preston took control of his own narrative to deliver a show that was effortlessly funny, silly as hell, and with just a dash of heart (but not too much). Brilliant work and a pleasure to watch—I expect to see many more shows in his future. Be sure to tune in to ‘Australia’s Worst Journalist’ at the Motley WhereHaus until the 19th of April.
To book tickets to Australia’s Worst Journalist, please visit https://www.comedyfestival.com.au/browse-shows/australia-s-worst-journalist/.
