WRITERS NOTE

I’m an interesting person.

That’s the subtext of all these ‘Writer’s Notes’, isn’t it? My fascinating mind pulped some of the more compelling moments from my singular life into an idea so intriguing that we’re charging $80 admission.

Not to brag but… I was interesting straight out the gate (uterus), what with my ragdoll limbs and perfect deadpan ( facial listlessness ).

Doctors quickly ruled out cerebral palsy, spinal damage, all the boring diseases (I’m allowed to say it—some of my best friends have boring diseases).

At 6 months I got a biopsy (i.e. this meaty little chunk from my left thigh) that confirmed muscle disease… but genetic testing couldn’t pin it to any existing myopathy or dystrophy.

It’s not like my doctors were bad. My hometown Perth is the literal hub for smart paediatricians thanks to the annual telethon funneling resources into the kids hospital and all its orbiting research labs.

Per capita, Perth has the world’s second highest donating telethon—no small part thanks to each year’s Telethon Kids—little gaptooth emblems of the good your donation could do. No one really donates to the mere notion of sick kids.

I was never a Telethon Kid myself ( showbiz is all who you know ) but I was interesting enough to pull a few smaller crowds. When I was 11 this world-renowned Canadian neurologist visited my hospital, asking to see any medical mysteries so he could flex some House M.D. diagnostics to a gaggle of six budding student doctors.

I have a vivid memory of stripping to my undies ( de rigeur at this kind of gig ) so he could perform the manual inspection—legs, arms, core, neck, back, etc—for our audience. The best he could muster was that it ‘looked similar’ to something only French Canadians get ( everyone’s cousins up there ), or that I might be ‘something new entirely’ ( pull quote much? ).

After I got dressed and left through the waiting room of a dozen more kids ( all of us oneof-a-kind ) I remembered wondering whether a system that needs so many little chunks from us might have some weird lasting psychological impacts on all our adulthoods.

In hindsight: nah, probs not . Anyway, thank you all for paying $80 to enjoy my tragic little disabled sex-comedy about the medical-industrial complex.

I hope it’s interesting

ALISTAIR BALDWIN / WRITER

DIRECTOR’S NOTE

When Alistair Baldwin & I first met before the initial development of Telethon Kid , it was love at first foyer beer. We talked (for what felt like hours) about pop culture, memes, toxic gays, the medical industrial complex, whether we were Pfizer or Astra Zeneca girlies, and if we could actually get Jess & Lisa (The Veronicas) to attend opening night.

Telethon Kid is an incredible play—it’s obviously hilarious, and beautifully crafted, but its refusal to simplify or provide straightforward answers is what makes it so special. Each character is deeply flawed, and relatable. Sam & Evie offer us two beautifully diverse and complicated experiences of disability, and the work probes our conceptions of agency, consent and power in a late-stage capitalist, ableist system.

During rehearsals, we spoke a lot about what it is like to live in the grey—how experiences and conversations can morph and change based on individual perspectives and the societal constructs that govern us. I’m so grateful to the team for their openness and curiosity—the conversations we had in the development stages and rehearsal room have been integral to the final version you see on stage.

As a director, I’m drawn to works that are not only provocative and challenging, but engaging, entertaining and funny! Telethon Kid straddles (hehe) these two worlds with poise and a wink, and that is a testament to Alistair’s, frankly unfair, talent. Fingers crossed Jess & Lisa get to see it—the first beer is on us.

HANNAH FALLOWFIELD / DIRECTOR

Thank You

The Team would also like to say thank you to

ZACHARY PIDD

ZULEIKA KHAN

HATTIE CLEGG-ROBINSON