Dante’s wombat

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 bestial beauty in the stinkin' bloody flesh!

Join us as Eb 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.

Audiences were treated to surreal suburban observations, quasi-literary mischief, and the odd singsong, along with bursts of physical comedy woven through fractured, dreamlike personal narratives. This gloriously strange collage of neighbourhood minutiae, arthritis, art, ballet, biscuits, books, tassels, and subterranean aromatics is equal parts absurdist confession, philosophical floundering, and spontaneous experiment.

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