Him
A costume with nobody underneath it is just a costume.
So here are three things he doesn't usually say. In his words, not somebody else's.
You already know what he looks like. There are about nine thousand photographs of that, and none of them tell you anything.
This is the other bit. It's shorter, it's less flattering, and it's the only part of this website he was actually nervous about.
How on earth this started.
Look, if you told me ten years ago this is what I’d be doing, I would have laughed in your face. I came out to Australia from the UK on a working holiday visa. I was doing labouring, moving furniture, basically whatever paid the rent that week.
And people kept stopping me in the street or at a bar saying, “Mate, has anyone ever told you you look like Channing Tatum?” every single week. Eventually a promoter came up to me outside a club and asked if I’d ever thought about performing. I honestly thought it was a wind-up.
My first night, I was standing backstage literally shaking, sweating straight through a button-down shirt. But the second the music kicked in and I saw people actually smiling, I realized nobody’s taking themselves too seriously here. We’re just having a proper laugh together — and somehow that has turned into more than ten years.
— Will, on how it started
The thing he got wrong.
Everybody's about-page has chapter one. Almost nobody has this one, which is precisely why it's worth having.
Early on, I thought the job was about looking untouchable. I had this idea in my head that you had to walk in like some brooding, serious tough guy who never cracked a smile. All ego, no warmth.
And about six months in, I did this private party in Sydney. I did the whole routine, full swagger, completely deadpan. Afterward, the host came up to me and said, “Will, you looked fantastic. But honestly? You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else on earth.”
And it hit me right in the gut because she was totally right. People don’t book you because they want to admire a mannequin from five feet away. They book you because they want to feel connected to someone, to laugh, to let their guard down. The second I stopped acting like a statue and just talked to the room, everything changed.
— Will, on what he got wrong
Three in the afternoon, nobody watching.
People ask what it’s like. Honestly? The day after a show, nobody’s looking at you. It’s just cheap hotel coffee, trying to wash baby oil out of three shirts in the sink, and calling home.
That’s the part nobody sees — but it’s the only part that keeps your feet on the ground.
— Will, the day after
