If there is one thing you will take away from watching Joel Creasey, it is that you will forever have the mental image of a cup of fluorescent yellow cum.

This 27-year-old Ellen Degeneres doppelganger hits the stage to celebrate the 2018 Comedy Festival with his new show ‘Blonde Bombshell’. Creasey warns everyone outside of this room is a target for unforgiving humiliation. When he reveals his own version of the ‘Mean Girls’ burn book, you know you’re in for one laughable, back-stabbing bitch fest.

Creasey’s approach to hate mail is innocent and charming despite how guilty his comebacks may be. Each throw he delivers has a deprecating tone to his haters that is so witty, it makes the haters hate him more.

As the intimate audience watches on projector for five-and-a-half minutes about his scandalous life from having an affair with an AFL star to him shitting his pants in a Ukrainian gay nightclub, Creasey’s misadventures have a relatable touch to everyone. There may be gay people in the audience, there may be gay references to the ‘yes’ vote and Mardi Gras, but you don’t have to be gay to find the jokes funny.

The bitch fest continues when Joel Creasey and his hot AF Clavin Klein model of a boyfriend ‘Jack’ get row A seats for the ARIA awards. When he realises that popular music artist Vance Joy sitting behind him in row B is gas-bagging the shit out of him about his presenting skills with Julia Michaels, Creasey gets all fired up. Vance Joy turns into Vance Hate as the audience gasps at the behind-the-scenes backstabbing events that went down between them. Ironically in such Joel Creasey fashion, audiences walk out to the tune of ‘Riptide’ after the show has finished.

Creasey’s relatable quality is apparent when he acts as the middle man between ‘pleb’ and ‘celeb’. His ability to humanise his impressive television credits like Eurovision and Mardi Gras is seamless by delving into the mishaps—like having gastro at Eurovision in Ukraine last year. Let’s just say, we shall wait for 2.0 of the Portuguese Eurovision shitting-in-his-pants saga.

And, of course, there is no show without a hint of publicity for his newly released book Thirsty. Creasey’s charm comes from lowering his own esteem to that of Kevin Rudd and comparing his own success to the infamous French bulldog, Manny the Frenchie. It would seem only Creasey could be jealous of a “fucking dog that shat in the corner” of a Gold Coast book fair. 

Creasey’s attacks are full of punch and spite, with a dash of gross seduction. If you revolt at yellow man juice but like a hard dick pic joke or a solid celebrity bashing, you will think this show is ‘so fetch!’


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