The Story

Before there was me, there was them. My parents met, fell in love, and decided to get married.

Little did they know they were about to embark on the adventure of raising a future comedian. Someone should have warned them about what they were signing up for.

It all started at Mahatma Gandhi Hospital, where I made my grand entrance into this world. But like any good comedian, I had to make it dramatic.

I was born with yellow jaundice, which meant I had to spend my first days in an incubator, completely isolated from everyone.

At age 4, I read my first book: "Monkey Tricks". Looking back, it was the perfect introduction to my future career - after all, what is comedy but sophisticated monkey tricks?

High school was where things got interesting. I entered with big dreams and left with... well, let's just say it was educational.

I matriculated, but not without drama. I almost failed Afrikaans - which, in South Africa, is like almost failing breathing. But hey, at least I was consistent in my ability to make things unnecessarily difficult.

I was already the class clown. Teachers either loved me or wanted to put me back in an incubator.

College and I had a very brief relationship. I dropped out faster than you can say "student loans."

Turns out sitting in lecture halls wasn't for me. I needed something more hands-on, more practical, more... wooden.

I became a carpenter - building things, fixing things, making sawdust. It was honest work, but I kept making my coworkers laugh more than I was making furniture.

From wood to wisdom, from hammers to humor. Every nail I hit was practice for hitting the punchlines later.

Then I switched to IT programming. From wood to code, from hammers to keyboards. I went from building cabinets to debugging websites.

Same level of frustration, better air conditioning. Turns out coding and comedy have a lot in common - both require perfect timing, and one missing semicolon can ruin everything.

Finally, I started doing comedy. All those years of making people laugh while they were supposed to be working finally paid off.

Turns out being the office clown was actually job training. Who knew that all those meetings I disrupted were just rehearsals for the stage?