Paul Hogan - The Tap-Dancing Knife Thrower: My Life (without the boring bits)

For providing my ancestors with free passage to Australia,

I dedicate this book to the wonderful judges

of the Old Bailey.

I t all started in a little box at the top of the arch of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The little box was known as a crane cabin, and thats where Id sit on my break with my workmates, having our morning smoko.

It was 1971 and Id been a rigger on the Coat Hanger for a decade or so. I was thirty-one years old and had worked in dozens of jobs, but this was the one Id stuck with. It was in the great outdoors, with one of the best views in the world, and with good blokes all around me.

This was a Monday. We were dragging on our cigarettes and talking about the weekends television, though there wasnt much to choose from. There was Skippyand The Mary Tyler Moore Showand I Love Lucyrepeats all in black and white, but the most popular show was Australias own New Faces. It was the godfather of Australias Got Talent, Australian Idol, X Factor, Y Factor, The Voice, The Voice for Kidsand The Voice for Old Age Pensioners. It was the original. However, as nice an idea as it may have been, the trouble they had in 1971 was that Australia didnt have much talent.

Maybe for that reason, the show had rapidly deteriorated into a competition between celebrity judges. Theyd have a panel of them, passing judgement on the amateurs. It was mostly a contest between them to see who could be the funniest or the snarkiest, or the most sarcastic. And that was supposed to be the entertainment.

I said to the blokes, I think thats too cruel. Its like watching the Christians being fed to the lions. Just once, itd be nice if one of the Christians jumped up, you know, and bit the nuts off a lion.

You could do that, Hoges, my mate Athol said. Youre a sarcastic bastard.

Yeah, Id like to do that, I said. Id like to go up there and, on behalf of the amateurs, give all the celebrities a bit of a serve.

Another mate, Archie, wished me luck. Youd never get on the show. My niece has been accepted she can sing a bit but she wont be on until July of next year. Its like a two-year waiting list.

Two years? I couldnt be bothered waiting that long. Id lose interest. But then I thought, Theyre not really looking for talent, theyre looking for galahs who think theyve got talent. You know, so they can tear them apart. I can do that.

Now, to get on the show in those days, you sent in a letter. And for the young ones reading this, thats when you get a pen and a piece of paper... actually, your parents can tell you about it. So anyway, I wrote this letter, and I remember pretty clearly how it went.

Dear Sirs,

I am a former shearer from Lightning Ridge, and a former trapeze artist. I am currently working on the Sydney Harbour Bridge, but theres an extraordinary talent I wish to share with you and your viewers: I am Australias leading tap-dancing knife thrower. Looking forward to your eager response and the opportunity to share my gift with all of Australia.

Thatll get them, I thought. And you know about that waiting list of two years? Two weeks later a letter arrived. Congratulations Mr Hogan, youll be appearing live next Sunday.

It had worked! But, umm, now what?

Well, first off, I needed some knives.