Celeste Barber: Fine, thanks

All right, Sydney Opera House!

Please welcome to the stage, Celeste Barber!

- Hi! Fuck yeah! -

Yes!

Oh yeah!

Hiya, Sydney! What's up?

- -

Oh, this is awesome!

Hey, you guys, welcome to my Netflix special.

Ah, this is wicked.

- I'm so excited to be here. It's so... -

My husband and I have been together for 19 years, right,

and the success of our relationship

is 100% based on distance.

And being away from each other.

We are so good at missing each other,

so good at it.

But then lockdown happened...

...and he was everywhere.

All the fucking time.

If his face wasn't here,

his dick was here.

Oh, you...

It's too much.

Everything was blown out of proportion, you know?

Everything was magnified.

Well, not his dick. That's to scale.

But 19 years, that's a long time, if you ask me.

We've been through a lot together.

I've been the stepmother to his daughter since I was 21.

We've got a really, really strong bond,

but I've gotta tell you, lockdown, it nearly broke us.

How the fuck did people fall pregnant during that time?

"This is our Covid baby."

"We couldn't keep our hands off each other."

How?

We couldn't get far enough away from each other the entire time.

Sometimes, we would just spend the whole day

sitting on opposite ends of the couch in complete silence,

and every now and then, just flip the bird at each other.

"There you are, mate. You can have that today."

"And take a couple for tomorrow as well."

Twenty minutes from divorce the entire time, we were.

The actress Jamie Lee Curtis, she's been married for 27 years, right?

Twenty-seven years!

And she was asked a few years ago in an interview,

"What is the secret to a long marriage?"

And she said,

"Don't leave."

That's what she said. She went, "You just don't leave."

"Yeah, you just have to stay on the bus,

and the bus keeps on going."

"The scenery outside may change,

but you just have to stay on the bus."

Aw.

Yeah, don't really think many of us are saying that after lockdown, are we?

No. I would've jackknifed that bus into a tree,

set fire to the fucker, and run a mile if I could've.

It wasn't all bad, I have to say.

I did learn a few things about my husband during that time.

I learned that every time he has a drink of water,

he wants a high five.

Every time.

"It's 10:00 a.m.,

and I've just finished my second liter of water."

"Well done, darling."

"The medal ceremony will be at 6:00. Good on you."

I learned that every time we have a fight, he cleans the house.

- - Huh.

Oh yeah. You better believe I picked some unnecessary fights with that man.

I also realized how often he wants to have sex with me.

But more importantly...

...how often I say no.

And I didn't realize. I didn't realize at all.

He'll try all different ways as well.

He'll try to be spontaneous.

"Hey, babe, look. The boys are on their iPads."

"Do you want a little bit of afternoon delight?"

And I'm like,

"No, thank you."

Or he'll try to be romantic.

"I just ran us a little bubble bath. Come on. Let's have a bath together."

I'm like, "I'm clean, mate. Get away."

He gave up after a while.

Sometimes, he'd jump out in front of me completely naked.

"What are you up to?"

Aw.

"Nothing with you."

Even me lying there sound asleep didn't stop him.

I would be snoring, and he'd just go,

"Hey."

"You want a little..."

I'm like, "No, stop it. Get off!"

"Can't I just lie here and finish myself off, then?"

"Uh, yeah, but make sure you clean it up."

He goes, "Pardon?"

"I'll pick a fight with you later. Don't worry about it."

I will say, though,

after 19 years together,

he said the most romantic thing he has ever said to me during that time.

I'll never forget it.

He came up to me one day, and he looked into my eyes, and he said,

"Hey, babe."

"Let's go to bed and look at our phones until they run out of charge."

I fucked him all night.

So being home with my kids full-time,

it made me realize how quickly they are growing up

and how much I am not coping with it.

I'm not coping with it at all.

I want... I want them to be babies forever.

I will scream at my children when they outgrow their clothes,

and I refuse to buy them new ones.

"You made that choice to grow up. Sucked in. That's on you."

My 11-year-old's clothes are so tight,

he's at school in a tank top like a fucking Britney fan.

"Get in there, babe. She's free. Represent. Off you go. Get in."

My boys are eight and eleven.

I still sanitize their dummies just in case.

Sometimes, I push them over and hope they'll cry

and only wanna hug me.

I wasn't able to breastfeed either of my boys when they were babies,

and now I'm like, "You guys wanna try? We should try."

"Let's try."

I'm not okay.

So I'm trying to grab as many moments with them as I can.

So when I'm at home, I've started this little nightly routine with the boys,

A little turndown service, if you will.

My boys, they share a room.

They always fucking will.

And they've got two single beds,

and I like to go in there and get it set up for them.

So I'll turn down the lights, put some stars on the ceiling,

and, you know, maybe some lavender smells or something really lovely.

And then the boys come in, and they hop into bed,

and we like to sing a little song together.

Um, we love the classics. Our favorite is...

I always think about, like, what memories my boys are gonna have when they're older

and about what memories they're gonna have of me as well,

and I really, really hope this is one of them

'cause I think it's just such a special time for them.

So I started adding wine to this little nightly routine.

What? Well, it can't be all about the children!

And, look, let's face it. It was during lockdown,

so I was fuck-eyed drunk midweek most of the time.

And after a couple of bottles of wine by about, oh, 5:00 p.m.,

I realized I was moving a little bit away from singing "Twinkle, Twinkle"

and moving a little bit more toward performing Kasey Chambers circa 2002.

And you just know that that shit cranks up as the weekend rolls around.

You know, by Saturday, we've opened up a bottle of tequila.

The baggies have come out.

And I realize, well, they're growing up,

everything's fucked,

and we're all gonna die anyway, so...

Yeah, by Sunday, my kids are traumatized.

Yeah.

Yeah, Sunday's fun.

I just walk around the house, like, "Come on, boys."

"It's time for our nightly routine,"

and I realize they've been in bed since 2:00 p.m.,

pretending to be asleep, like...

"Ooh, fuck."

Kids are so smart these days. Holy shit!

They are so smart now.

Like, I knew nothing when I was growing up.

Nothing at all.

And that is how me and my parents liked it.

You know, if my parents said we were going somewhere,

you just got in the car.

Right?

Yeah, you just got in the car.

You didn't ask where you were going.

Fucking idiot.