Bill Bailey, March 27, 1997

Melbourne Comedy Festival 1997

Supper Room Melbourne Town Hall 7.30pm until April 20, 1997

Reviewed by Kate Herbert around March 27, 1997 (for Herald Sun ed. Robin Usher)

Five words. Bill Bailey: go see him.

He's a really funny bastard. He's an esoteric intellectual, a silly bugger, a musical gagmeister, a lateral poet and king of popular culture. He's Edward De Bono's answer to stand-up. He's a deconstructivist comedian.

He looks like a bonsai Meat Loaf with hippy tresses counterpointed against leather strides and clunky punk boot- things. He has a collection of "three blokes go into a pub" jokes written variously by Chaucer (14th century), lords of the manor (19th century) and a 90's feminist.

He drags the audience laughing from the banal to the absolutely bleeding absurd in a flash. We see a French Doctor Who ( Doctor Qui?) doing bad Belgian jazz. Jean Luc Picard does King Lear a' la Star Trek. He deconstructs German philosopher Wittgenstein's theory of solipsism and Cartesian dualism, amazingly, without being highbrow.

He redecorates his flat in "bloke coming home from the pub" decor. He self-heckles. "It saves time." He creates offbeat sound tracks for cartoons and satirises film musical scores with piano expertise. Not only is he a skilful musician but he gives good accent as well. He whips round Britain with his characters, does a mean US accent.

His encores are worth not rushing off to your next festival event. A compilation of nursery rhymes by famous people includes a scathing send-up of schmaltz-king, Richard Clayderman doing Three Blind Mice followed by a Cockney album of pop songs such as Lady in Red and Eye of the Tiger are a treat.

Bailey is warm, eccentric and accessible. That's six words.

KATE HERBERT