As seen on The Bachelor, Steph Crothers is stepping out of the reality TV closet and onto the Melbourne Comedy Festival stage with her debut solo hour, Daddy Daycare – a bold, risqué clowning show that uses nostalgia and satire to shine a light on male entitlement.
Steph talks her show, writing, comedy and future. Read on:
How would you describe your show to someone who knows very little about it?
Daddy Daycare is a daycare centre for grown men. Think a naughty version of Play School: craft, songs, puppets, games… but absolutely none of it is suitable for children. I perform an hour of clowning as a daycare worker, running lessons and teaching the Daddies about consent, bodily autonomy, and respect – all while keeping them engaged with tits, ass and naughty fun. It’s everything you’d expect from a children’s daycare and a night at the strip club, smashed together.
What makes it stand out and why should people see it?
This show plays with the unexpected similarities between children’s entertainment and stripping, something I know intimately after ten years working in both worlds. It asks the question, ‘why do we end up treating men like children in the first place?’
It’s crude, funny, chaotic, and deliberately unhinged… but as the hour goes on, I become more and more doll‑like, and the deeper meaning starts to reveal itself. The show uses my own experiences with assault to shine a light on male entitlement over women’s bodies.
It’s a genuinely unique perspective – not many people have worked in both industries, and even fewer could turn that into a show. I’ve seen how men and children behave when left unsupervised, and I’m bringing that to the stage.
How long was the process from idea to writing to stage? Any challenges along the way?
I’ve had the idea for this show for years, and it finally feels like the right moment. I’ve got momentum, I’m starting to make a name for myself in comedy, and the timing just clicked. I’d been sitting on the concept for at least two years, but I officially started writing in late 2025 when I signed up for MICF.
One of the biggest challenges is consent. The show is intentionally crude and the lines can blur, so I have to make sure the audience feels safe and comfortable at all times. Enthusiastic consent is non‑negotiable. I never want someone walking out feeling pushed into something or unsure if they could say no.
The other challenge is the props. This show is very prop‑heavy. Almost the entire budget has gone into the set and props because they’re essential for creating that bright, 90s kids‑TV atmosphere.
What attracts you to comedy?
As a kid, I loved making people laugh. My sense of humour was always my favourite thing about myself. But somewhere in my early twenties, I lost that part of me. Coming back to improv and performing helped me find it again. It reminded me of who I am and brought me back to myself. Comedy keeps me connected to my core.
How would you describe your relationship with the audience and what do you love the most about live performance?
My relationship with the audience is everything. Comedy lives and dies on their reactions, and clowning especially relies on that immediate, honest feedback. You have to drop your ego, because the audience will tell you if you’re funny. They want you to succeed, but they won’t fake it. That honesty is what I love most about live performance. I get to play with them, build tension with them, and watch them figure things out in real time. There are a lot of interactive moments in this show, and it’s genuinely delightful to see an audience member step into a moment and absolutely nail it. It’s rewarding both for them, and for me.
Who would you say have been your biggest inspirations?
Growing up, I spent hours on YouTube watching SNL sketches on repeat. Women like Amy Poehler and Tina Fey were nothing like what the media told us women should be. I wasn’t a popular kid, but I was a funny kid, and I saw myself in them.
For this show specifically, I was hugely inspired by Natalie Palamides’ Nate. It’s crude, it plays with consent in such a smart way, and it leaves the audience thinking long after it’s over. I also loved Courtney Pauroso’s Vanessa 5000, where she performs an hour of clown as a sex robot slowly unravelling. She builds such a safe environment that by the end she’s kissing audience members and even spits in someone’s mouth.
Closer to home, I saw some incredible shows at last year’s MICF that pushed me to finally make this one. Sophie Power’s CVNT showed me how powerful it is to have the audience completely on your side. I’ve been lucky enough to bring her on board as my director.
What are three things that would surprise people to learn about you?
- I was on the Honey Badger season of The Bachelor. If you watched it, I was the girl who said, “I can’t believe I shaved my legs for this.” I’ve since realised I’m gay.
- I’ve had at least 20 different jobs. I’ve done everything from personal training, to hospo, to social media, to warehousing. I quit children’s entertaining and stripping in 2022 to become a full‑time voiceover artist, but with AI voices taking over, that work dried up. I’ve just finished training to become a marriage celebrant. I also have ADHD, so I hyperfixate and get bored quickly. Go figure.
- I can’t roll my R’s. No idea why, but people are always weirdly surprised.
What do you love to most about performing at MICF?
I love the huge sense of community that MICF brings. I’d never usually be out seeing a show at 10pm, but during the festival I’m out every night watching the weirdest and wildest things. It’s a space where new performers can put up their first work, and established performers can try something completely unhinged. Being part of a festival like this means your show reaches far more people than it ever would on its own, and for so many artists it becomes the launching pad for the rest of their careers.
What comes after the MICF for you?
I’ve got a huge year ahead. I’m launching my celebrancy business, and I’m also getting married to the love of my FRIGGIN LIFE. Since 2023 I’ve been producing the improvised musical Les Improvisé, and I’m excited to see how that grows this year. I’m teaching improv, performing more stand‑up, and generally saying yes to as many creative projects as I can handle.
And of course, I’m hoping to take Daddy Daycare to Melbourne Fringe and maybe even tour? But honestly… it all comes down to how this season goes. No pressure.
Steph is thrilled to present her first solo comedy show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, combining her bold perspective, lived experience, and comedic skill to challenge, shock, and entertain.
April 6 -19
melbournecomedyfestival.com.au
Image: Nick Robertson
