Ebenezer Brittlebank

Everyone gets it sometimes: sometimes a snuffling by your head at night, sometimes a distant grunt in a cold dark alley, sometimes an enveloping marsupial warmth when you're feeling blue. But it's only when you walk with Ebenezer that you can finally catch a glimpse of the rarest of creatures, that waddling scar-faced vat of waddling bestial beauty, in the stinkin' bloody flesh!

Join us as Eb Brittlebank emerges from the depths – dirty, wriggling and unabashedly ripe – to share, with orchidaceous warmth, the comic potential of confusion itself through an hour of lyrical chaos: a greedy pinion’s fractured journey through a subterranean vestibule.

Expect surreal suburban observations, quasi-literary mischief, sing-song breakdowns and bursts of physical comedy woven through fractured, dreamlike personal narratives. This gloriously strange collage of neighbourhood minutiae, art, biscuits, books, tassels, arthritis and subterranean aromatics is equal parts absurdist confession, philosophical floundering and spontaneous experiment.

In Dante’s Wombat, fresher than fresh local produce delivers what is sure to be a blistering debut hour, portraying a perspective so askew that it almost approaches the profound, the mystical, the cinematic, the, well… just a raucous plunge into the odd and endearing little things behind everyday existence, really.