You know those stickers – the ones that many people adhere to their suburban SUVs that insipidly inform uninterested passers-by about the members of their family? Nikki Britton finds them about as enjoyable as licking shit off the hoof of a goat, and if you’re any kind of self-respecting person you’ll agree. In fact, Britton has rather a talent for critiquing those aspects of life that make you want set yourself on fire, especially when it comes to life goals (or lack thereof).

Britton, who is especially proud of her review of a whopping 4.5 stars in the Advertiser, is a 29-going-on-that-which-shall-not-be-named ‘adult’, whose inner fat kid isn’t going away anytime soon. She’s not afraid to admit that she doesn’t enjoy baby showers, or that she’s overwhelmingly attracted to pale, red-headed Scottish men, or that her greatest talents include playing the air xylophone and executing interpretive dances to Alanis Morrissette.

Britton’s enthusiastic and insightful approach to life is a breath of fresh air, especially to those who may be having existential crises themselves. Finally, here is someone who understands that adulthood may not be all that it’s cracked up to be, and that most of us just want to hide under a blanket until the nasty growing-up monster goes away. Britton is magnificently vulgar and outspoken; but she still manages to succinctly demonstrate her points, even if she does have to check her notes now and again.

But amid all of the hysterically crude wise-cracks about Jesus’s toleration of ejaculation, the undeniably sexual nature of bumpy roads, and any part of the vagina that you care to think of, she drives home a single point: that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because you grow up. When people are children they dream of being actors, princesses, and firemen (or in this author’s case, a professional athlete), and when they become older they lose sight of their dreams. They become aware that they should adhere to a certain social ideal, one that will provide financial and emotional stability. But then there are those, like Britton, who achieve the next level of enlightenment and go, ‘Fuck that – I do what I want.’ And that is the underlying message of her show: that life isn’t about doing things because you feel like you’re supposed to. You should do things because you want to.

And if you aren’t going to do what you want in life, then that can only really mean one thing – that you are responsible.

How dull.

If you answered yes to any or all of these questions, then you’re probably a fan of Doctor Who. If you are not, then unfortunately you have recorded a false-positive result, and probably did not attend 50 Years of Doctor Who: Preachrs Podcast Live, a wise decision since the enthusiasm and love of the world’s longest-running sci-fi show is gloriously overwhelming the moment you walk in the door. Lovers of the show both young and old gathered to discuss and appreciate the Doctor, his fabulous blue box, and the courageous companions who have accompanied him for the last 50 years.

Created by Benjamin Maio Mackay, an incredibly talented 13-year-old, Preachrs Podcast is a podcast that focuses on and discusses all aspects of Doctor Who. The Live show at this year’s Fringe was hosted by its creator, along with Nicholas Finch, a fellow 13-year-old ‘whovian’, and Rob Lloyd, a comedian and actor who became hooked on the show in his university years and never looked back. Dressed as an incarnation of the Doctor each, the three hosts provided two hours of discussion, quizzes and analysis of Doctor Who in all its splendour.

The audience was as enamoured with Who as the hosts, many of them dressing up as their characters or wearing Who-related t-shirts. The hosts also encouraged their audience to participate by providing quizzes, discussion about characters and episodes either loved or hated, and all with the appropriate promise of jelly babies as an incentive. This gathering of self-confessed nerds was incredibly enjoyable, and the opportunity to focus on something that everyone present genuinely loved was simply brilliant. Each of the Doctor’s incarnations was discussed, with the hosts expressing their opinions on the actors, their portrayals, and the episodes that have made the show what it is today.

The Podcast was also particularly engaging due to insights on the Doctor himself, and why he became, and still is, incredibly popular and loved. It allowed fans not only to let loose, but to gain a whole new appreciation for the show, its actors, and anything Who-related, really. The hosts were enthusiastically eloquent, and often geeky and awkward (which is to be expected, honestly, this is a show about Doctor Who), and happy to share their opinions and love with everyone else in the room.

And to any Whovians who missed out, don’t despair! You can still get your Who-fix from the Preachrs Podcast, which is available online. And if that still isn’t enough to stem your sorrows, why not go watch Earthshock, or The Angels Take Manhattan? Missing out may not seem so bad in comparison.

If you can imagine the love child of Spoon and Mumford & Sons, then you’ll have a rough idea of what Thom Lion has to offer in his self-titled show. The Adelaide-born indie/pop musician showcases some heartfelt and engaging lyrics this Fringe season, as well as his talents on various instruments. His momentum as a performer has only grown since the release of his last album, The Minimalist, in August of 2012, and his popularity is especially strong in South Australia where he grew up.

A product of Triple J’s famed Unearthed initiative, Lion certainly proves that he has earned his stripes as a folk singer. A three-piece band backs him for most of his set, but he does deliver a refreshing change of pace with several acoustic pieces, as well as a clever rendition of Jay-Z’s classic 99 Problems. His songs ‘How To Be an Astronaut’ and ‘The Seaside’ provide the audience with a window into his childhood, the latter accompanied by a wailing harmonica which enhances the little stories woven throughout the song. The boy who chose the middle name Lion at the age of four has turned into a man who sings fondly about his childhood growing up in Grange.

Lion’s talent also extends to selecting a wonderful supporting band: Tasmanian born and bred Halfway to Forth, a fraternal duo who get the audience in the mood for two hours of indie folk and blues. And the audience love it. Halfway to Forth are similar in many ways to Lion; the wide range of guitars, heartfelt lyrics, and a self-confessed feeling of awkwardness. Too much of a good thing? Never. Their similarities are also key points in their differences, and by the end of the evening, one feels a sense of contentedness, shown in their different experiences growing up, their approach to music, and the more bluesy style of Halfway to Forth.

The musical genius of Thom Lion is one that must be seen, or rather heard, to be believed. His understated yet intelligent lyrics come out in his beautiful songs, and it’s obvious that his heart is in whatever he is playing. He gives a strong performance, but not to the point of being overbearing or threatening. He is strong because he plays the chords confidently, the harmonica is stitched in to hold the song together, and he dips and lilts his voice in such a way that you feel yourself being completely drawn into the song. Oh, and make sure you find out about the underage driving story – the one with the drunk family and one very helpful bare-breasted woman. Actually, no need to ask, he’ll probably tell you about it anyway.