Elliot McLaren walks like he is carrying the weight of his life. He’s been battling drug addiction since childhood.

“I started using drugs at 12,” he says, sipping on a Heineken zero. “Just weed, alcohol and petrol to start.”

By 16, McLaren, who grew up in rural New Zealand, was using methamphetamine, involved with gangs and homeless.

“When I was 18, everyone was on day release from prison at work,” he says.

He saw himself as a career criminal, but a secret would slow his spiral. It was his emergency exit.

“When I came out of the closet before my 21st birthday, I was lining up a few gangs to join,” he says. “I was in a street gang, there was not a lot of power in it, but I saw it as a stepping stone to an organised criminal group.

“The best reaction I got was never hearing from them again.”

“The worst was from a cousin. He said, ‘don’t come to the family Christmas. I won’t eat my lunch next to a faggot’. We haven’t really had a family Christmas since.”

Coming out as gay took Elliot from gang life, and with a supportive partner, he got clean, became a qualified butcher and started saving for a deposit on somewhere to live. After a few years, suddenly, his partner left, and he was given an eviction notice. His partner was a con artist who had stolen everything.

“I was 23, and for the second time in my life, I was homeless,” he says.

Drug addiction is the epitome of emptiness. It’s the epitome of sorrow.

He fell back into his old life and his drug use quickly escalated. Elliot doesn’t romanticise addiction.

“Drug addiction is the epitome of emptiness,” he says. “It’s the epitome of sorrow. Someone told me hell is a place where there’s no god. I said, ‘I’m not looking for God. I’m looking to escape hell’.”

Elliot’s eyes well up as he relates the experience.

“Once I couldn’t find my vein because it was collapsed, I was sobbing with this needle in my hand,” he says. “I was sobbing because I didn’t even wanna shoot up.

“As soon as I found the vein, I plunged it. I didn’t even get high. It just stopped me from crying.”

In his lowest moments, however, watching comedy made him happier. In 2019, when US comedian Dave Chappelle released his Netflix special Sticks & Stones, Elliot had a moment of clarity.

“There was something profound in the material,” he says. “I thought it was special. So I signed up for an open mic”.

Still battling addiction, Elliot made it to the final of New Zealand’s biggest comedy competition.

“When I did the grand finals, I’d been up for three days, still doing crime,” he says. “Sometimes, I’d be on stage seeing shadow people. They weren’t laughing.”

In 2022 Elliott moved to Australia with a backpack and the goal of getting his comedy career going. He was also clean.

Comedy in Sydney is like a family. I’m very lucky, some comedians did more [for me] than most family members.

He made it to the NSW state finals of RAW comedy, the country’s biggest competition for stand-ups. He was getting paid gigs, but in 2023 he relapsed. This time he had a support network.

“Comedy in Sydney is like a family,” he says. “I’m very lucky, some comedians did more than most family members.”

Other comedians Elliot work with agree.

“Everyone comes from a different walk of life, and somehow we all get on, we all try to look out for each other,” says Lochlann McAllister. “If you need a couch to crash on, there’s always one.”

When Elliot overdosed, comedian Mitch Parry took him home and looked after him while he withdrew. Once again McLaren was clean. His journey would now be different.

“I woke up to a phone call from the bloods department,” he says. “‘Mr McLaren, you’ve come up reactive to HIV’.”
“I just burst into tears.

“Having HIV in 2024 is confronting, but in reality, I have a symptomless existence. I am very lucky.”

According to a study in The Lancet journal people living with HIV in 2024 have a similar life expectancy to those without.

Elliot now stands on the verge of his 30th birthday, but more importantly he is a year sober. A newfound passion is driving Elliot with excitement and optimism.

“Last week, I got flown to Perth for two grand,” he says.

Having taken a solo show to the Melbourne comedy festival called ‘Memoirs of a Methhead’ and performed ‘Crips and Creeps’ at Sydney Fringe, he finds himself on stage with something to say.

Main image by Hugh Phillips.