Mark Norman Harris has an extensive history
of being funny. This comedic flare, which
began with bouts of class clowning, and
university literary societies has expanded
into the kind of CV that is rejected by even
the most open-minded HR departments.
Career highlights include a brief stint in
Nepali rap music, semi-pro stand-up
comedy, and periodic releases of soulful folk
songs. Now 37-years-old, Harris, a cultural
migrant escaping the bleak Canadian
wasteland of gas station suburbia, lives in
the ugly part of Paris. During seasonal bouts
of unemployment, he operates an artist
residency out of his Sicilian villa, where he
navigates the minefield of fragile artist egos.
He currently tours a musical about vegans
colonised by cannibals and has written a
screenplay about a xenophobic minotaur.
He is committed to reducing his salt intake
and buying a gym membership, not for
reasons of vanity, but to ensure a long-life
with the woman he loves. His participation
in ComedyLab was inspiring.