Why I Should Not Be Let Loose At Oz Comic Con

I first became aware that there was such a thing as Comic Con (aka Comics Convention) back in 2010, when I happened across Joshua Jackson taking off Comic Con with his hilarious Paceycon.

Comic Con is a mega geekfest of everything comic and pop-culture—The Walking Dead, Marvel, X-Men, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Star Wars, Game of Thrones, Neil Gaiman, Japanese manga etc. Admittedly, I’m a fairly soft-core geek/nerd, more of a TV & movie pop-culturalist (because I’m posh, too) than a Marvel or Cosplay fan but Comic Con is everything I love about everything.

Australia has their own version— Oz Comic Con, and whilst it might not attract the same huge names as the San Diego original (the Adelaide leg excepted, sniff), it is an incredible weekend. People come here and leave their inhibitions at the door. There is fun, there is pop-culture and geekery, there is spectacular artistry and design, and there are touchables. Actually, did I just say that? Touchables? Cough, sorry, must be all the excess blood that’s gone to my head.

Which brings me to my first segue (and apology for disgraceful behaviour) by confessing that the following photo was taken at the end of the day, I was thoroughly shattered and they were piping arse-slapping porn music into the photo booths. What was I meant to do? Act normally?

Actually, this kind of is normally for me.

It all makes sense to me now.

The queue for Daniel Portman (that’s the bloke in the above photo in case you didn’t know—he plays Podrick in Game of Thrones who is totally getting together with Brienne of Tarth in season 6, but anyhoo) was a third as long as the one for Kristiaan (Hodor). I’m sure Kristiaan is a very nice man, but ummmmmm, hot boy with delightful Scottish accent? Not rocket science, people.

And yes, my hand just suddenly appeared on Daniel’s man chest. Apparently my subconscious wanted to know what the fuss was all about. Any more questions?

The Royal Exhibition Building may be a freaking maze, but it’s a beautiful freaking maze.

They really should rename #ozcomiccon, #ozqueuecon, because that’s what you do an awful lot of at these things—queueing. It’s not the organiser’s fault—there are literally thousands of geeky punters wanting a piece of everyone and everything. Ahem, one of them was me, because Game of Thrones, Sherlock and the Walking Dead.

Some people really wanted to see Arthur Darvill.

I mean, really wanted to see Arthur Darvill.

Arthur Darvill (Rory in Doctor Who) was a delight, the kind of bloke you could see yourself popping down to the local pub with for a pint. Or a cup of tea. Judging by that aran sweater, I’m voting the latter.

I was tempted by the Cumberswag but exercised admirable restraint.

I was tempted by the merchandise, but exercised admirable restraint.

Admirable restraint wasn’t such a hotly contested thing for others.

Tom Skerritt's panel was so inspirational I may have had bits of water in the corner of my eyes.

Tom Skerritt panel

I am a bit of a Tom Skerritt fangirl (Alien is seminal, dude) and his panel was so inspiring, with all the remarkable perspectives of an 80 year old having had an incredible career. Tom talked about how we are all storytellers, that our stories are unique and that life is all about taking risks and seizing on opportunities. I may have been one of 300 people at the panel, but he talks to the crowd as if he is talking directly to you, which is an exceptional talent. I may have ended up with some of those pesky wet things in the corner of my eyes by the end.

This was me before I felt up a celeb. I don't look so scary now, do I?

This is me before I felt up a celeb and wept during a panel. I don’t look so scary now, do I?

You’ve got to start them early, yes?

I would probably bring a particularly hardcore 8 year old geek/game fan to Oz Comic Con, but much of the content and merchandise was fairly adult. I did see plenty of parents with their kids here,who seemed to be having a brilliant time, I’m just not sure I’d do the same. Plus, queues. Unless you have a particularly patient child, queues are a special kind of hell to be endured.