Patrick O’Duffy writes…

Laura Davis is 25 years old but still feels like she’s pretending to be an adult, still working out how to assemble the jigsaw puzzle of life.

Armed with nose tampons, band-aids and a bottle of artificial saliva (it’s a real thing and SO GROSS), plus graphs and charts to map emotional Ferris wheels and pressure points, she talks about eating Tim-Tams for breakfast and buying inappropriate underwear in a show about the mistakes you shouldn’t make twice, some big (toxic relationships) and some small (buying $1 food court miso soup).

In her quest to create medical-grade comedy, Laura talks about her McDonalds addiction and regular existential crises, writing jokes for eyelash mites, nearly dying in a steam train accident, being doomed to die a crazy cat lady while being allergic to cats, sexy murder mysteries, discount cremations and pre-school re-enactments of the Crucifixion. All of it tinged with positive and negative emotions; all of it delivered in her chatty, scatty and lovely style.

Laura’s last MICF show, ‘Notes from Birds,’ was a long narrative about sinking into loneliness and depression and then finding your way out again. ‘Look Out, it’s a Trap!’ loses the narrative structure, retains the themes but also adds a strong element of anger, of being frustrated with the limitations of the body, the mind and the heart. And yet, for all that its themes are serious, this isn’t a dark or edgy show. It’s more like a personal therapy session that’s also adorable and very funny, with clever humour that comes from sadness but also from kindness and honesty.

At times you may be torn between laughing or sobbing, but by the end the graphs are proved right, and you walk out on a high, inoculated against sadness. It’s a good feeling. You should see Laura’s show and try it.

Laura Davis in Look Out, It’s a Trap! is on at the Tuxedo Cat, Tue-Sat 7.15pm, Sun 6.15pm until April 21st.

You can visit Patrick O’Duffy’s website or follow him on twitter: @patrickoduffy.

The concept of a performer, alone and silent on stage, is not new. But D’Angelo succeeds in making the idea her own through her kooky demeanour, relaxed self-awareness and wonderfully agile facial movements (exploited most keenly in the opening sequence). Body Poet isn’t a show that shoots for quick laughs; its humour comes from forcing the audience to confront something bizarre in its purest form and having the good sense to enjoy it.

Still, it’s difficult to invest oneself in this show because it offers nothing for the audience to hold on to. Body Poet is a series of relatively unconnected skits bereft of storyline or meaningful theme. It means the audience must re-orient themselves for each new scene, connect the dots and then settle into the performance again.

And while words seem to be against the spirit of Body Poet, music is not, if the last few scenes are anything to go by. But this seems to come too little, too late; where music could have emphasised the humour in certain playful moments—such as a ventriloquist bear’s sneaky movements, an apple love scene or some over-the-top scarf modelling—the audience is instead met with silence, a sure dampener of any laughs.

Body Poet has some great, quirky ideas that challenge comedy norms. It has a sure spark of originality and the signature of its artist tattooed all over it. But without a stronger kind of structure or storyline, it’s difficult to remain engaged for the show’s duration.

Sabrina D’Angelo in Body Poet is on at the Northcote Town Hall, Thu-Sat 9pm, Sun 8pm until April 21st.

Siobhan has her own blog called .ReviewMania. or follow her on twitter: @siobhanargent.

Sammy J’s comedic style is similar to that of Adam Hills. Both are crowd-pleasers who somehow manage to get away with dropping the f-bomb but generally avoid offending anybody. Their comedy is also similarly self-deprecating, which would also explain its inoffensiveness: when the perspective of a show is turned inwards, opportunities to offence audience members are reduced, and hence so is their ability to reflect or nor explain their own attitudes.

That’s perhaps one small complaint with this show: Potentially is a little slow to warm up because it is so kind-hearted. There’s nothing to shock the audience into attention. Still, it takes a certain amount of perseverance and talent for a comedian to nurture a show from something innocuous and simple into something that will have an audience chuckling, and this is Sammy J’s forte.

For this reason, Potentially may not be nearly adventurous enough for some people. But even the most seasoned comedy-festival attendees would be able to see that behind all that inoffensiveness lies one seriously talented comedian.

For one, Sammy J’s ad-libs are blink-and-you’ll-miss-them quick. It’s a rapid-fire display of whip-smart joke-cracking that seems to be the genetic construct of only the best performers. For added fun, Sammy J also has a bird-like ability to make sensual dancing look like an erotic pigeon mating ritual, which he exploits to brilliant effect.

The structure of the show is also beautifully and lovingly crafted, and the songs within the show are quite dazzling displays of playful inventiveness. There’s the standard song-with-a-bunch-of-swearing, which somehow also manages to stay meaningful; a song about a panicked moment of hand-holding with semi-erotic, spiteful undertones; and a song about blimps that (rather impressively) carries perfectly if sung in complete darkness (and of course, within context).

It’s difficult not to miss the puppets, but for all its simplicity and sweetness Potentially showcases the adaptability and talent of one of Australia’s major comedy talents.

Sammy J in Potentially is on at the Arts Centre Melbourne, Tue-Sat 7.30pm, Sun 6.30pm until April 21st.

Siobhan has her own blog called .ReviewMania. or follow her on twitter: @siobhanargent.

The show kicks off on the premise that Flanagan is keen to get a cat – but that in order to avoid becoming a ‘crazy cat lady’, she must embark on a mission to get a boyfriend first. Needless to say, boyfriends are a little harder to find (you can’t just have the pick of the litter once they’re ready to be weaned). Men, babies and teenagers cop their fair share of criticism, as they all compare unfavourably to that longed-for cat.

There’s a certain level at which Flanagan plays on stereotypes to achieve a laugh, and she’s rarely subtle in her approach. But, like all good performers who make comedy out of complaints, her show works because she hits the nail on the head with grievances that most of the audience identify with. (I must admit that my comic enjoyment of the show was enhanced by the bloke sitting behind me who protested loudly that it’s completely fine to take your morning coffee into the dunny – one of Flanagan’s pet hates and a deal breaker when it comes to boyfriends.)

Early on, some of the jokes were overstated – in most cases, an amusing phrase only needs to be said once or twice for us to get the joke, not four or five times. However, as the show picked up the pace, so did the laughs. Flanagan’s mimicry of others and her witty rebuttal against personal criticism had the audience at her fingertips and laughing throughout.

The unique strength of Flanagan’s show was ultimately in the music – it was well-placed, in good taste, and not naff like some musical comedy. Kitty Flanagan and her sister Penny Flanagan had me tapping my toes to the beat and laughing in equal measure during the hilarious musical finale.

Kitty Flanagan in Hello Kitty Flanagan is on at the Athenaeum Theatre, Tuesday to Saturday at 7.00pm and Sunday at 6.00pm until April 21.

Suzannah Marshall Macbeth blogs at equineocean. You can follow her on twitter @equineocean.

Patrick O’Duffy writes…

In 1970s Melbourne, Bunny met Mad-Dog in a pub and a whirlwind, drug-soaked romance was born. It was a time of cheap drugs and luxurious moustaches, of Southern Comfort and V8 Holdens, when people smuggled bread into Chinese restaurants and you could be blonde enough to never need to parallel park

In 2000s Melbourne, comedian Lisa-Skye is a girl living behind 5″ of reality-shunting Perspex, working out who she is and grappling with complexities like being sexually attracted to fire. Can her parents’ stories of Bunny and Mad-Dog teach her how to navigate her own helter-skelter, pansexual life?

Resplendent in neon hair and matching make-up and armed with all the glitter in the world, Lisa-Skye is a dynamo on stage, overflowing with dirty words and metronome beat poetry. Confident and energetic, she flits from the 70s to the modern day and back again, backing up her punchlines with audio-visual cues. In the process she talks about the process of outsourcing guilt, the scent of history (Southern Comfort and mothballs), the bubble of acceptance, driving drunk through school zones, 70s nicknames for Greek dudes and much more.

Let me be clear: this show is dangerous. It will make you want to drink Southern Comfort, take drugs, have sex and possibly travel back in time. It will make your sides and jaw hurt from laughing, and make you wonder what lessons you could draw from your parents’ adventures. An autobiographical show that could easily become self-indulgent , Songs My Parents Taught Me is instead funny, clever, occasionally confronting and ultimately joyous. Much like Lisa-Skye herself.

Lisa-Skye in Songs My Parents Taught Me is on at The Tuxedo Cat, Mon-Tue 8.30pm, Thu-Sat 8.30pm, Sun 7.30pm until April 21st.

You can visit Patrick O’Duffy’s website or follow him on twitter: @patrickoduffy.

As Hickey points out, this show should have been called ‘how long is a piece of fling?’ However, Love or a Slab of Fudge is a fairly accurate title too – this is a show about successfully managing, and walking away from, an affair that has a deadline. What keeps Hickey on the straight and narrow in this story is, of course, the fudge.

I’m beginning to think there’s a theme emerging among comedians at this year’s festival, with Hickey, like Hannah Gadsby in Happiness is a Bedside Table, proud to have finally ‘grown up’. There’s an element of this in Claire Hooper’s Plums, too, though Hooper’s is expressed quite differently and all three comedians use this as a topic for comedy in very different ways.

For Hickey, becoming an adult is somehow linked to relationships, and that’s the crux of this narrative. Hickey takes a certain pride in being a late starter when it comes to romance, and so while this might be adult comedy in terms of content, it’s not so adult in terms of sophistication. Hickey creates a good rapport with the audience (unless you look like you’re not having fun, in which case beware), but sometimes relies on swearing or cajoling the audience to get a laugh.

This show did have me laughing from early on, and the narrative was engaging so that I was keen to know how things would end up. The finale could have been stronger, but overall this was an enjoyable show if you don’t mind an intimate venue. To top it off, a few of Hickey’s one-liners were comedy gold and have stuck with me – always a plus.

Geraldine Hickey in Love or a Slab of Fudge is on at the Forum Theatre Ladies’ Lounge, Tuesday to Saturday at 9.45pm and Sunday at 8.45pm until April 21.

Suzannah Marshall Macbeth blogs at equineocean. You can follow her on twitter @equineocean.

Patrick O’Duffy writes…

This is Dave’s first Comedy Festival show, after doing 6-minutes spot in group gigs like the Comedy Hole and the Giggle Gulag. He’s got some great material about sex, footy, women and how Sydney and Melbourne are different, and he’s ready to repeat them over and over again until he gets a laugh. Whether or not the jokes are funny.

And then, ten minutes into his set, things take a sudden, terrible turn, and Dave’s act – and mind – start falling apart.

Trying to describe ‘Dave’ is kind of an exercise in futility, other than to say that this one-(wo)man show by Zoe Coombs-Marr is nothing short of brilliant. With a few wisps of stick-on facial hair and glistening, desperate eyes, Zoe vanishes within the character of Dave, the bogan comedian-wannabe whose increasingly absurd, erratic attempts to pad out six minutes of material into an hour were incredibly, horrifically funny.

It’d be easy for a show like this to be a self-indulgent exercise in telling us that yes, whoa, some comedians aren’t very good. But Dave is so much more than that. Alongside the meta-humour, surreal asides and occasional (and gross) physical comedy is empathy for the compelling character of Dave himself, who only wants approval from Wil Anderson and the Footy Show scouts, who only becomes more sympathetic the more incoherent and unfunny his show becomes.

I’ve been lucky enough to see many great shows this Festival, but I’ve never seen an audience driven in constant hysterics the way they were at Dave, or a standing ovation that was so deserved. Zoe Coombs-Marr’s show is utterly incredible, and with only one more performance left, you need to book for it RIGHT NOW or miss out on an absolute highlight of the 2013 season.

STOP READING AND BOOK YOUR TICKETS DAMNIT.

Zoe Coombs Marr in Dave is on at the Northcote Town Hall, Saturday 11pm on 20th April.

You can visit Patrick O’Duffy’s website or follow him on twitter: @patrickoduffy.

Anderson’s Goodwil tour is primarily a massive catch-up session with his audience – here’s everything I’ve been up to in the past year. He presents the claim that he’s had a bad year, and there’s plenty to prove that. There’s medical problems, problems with theft, a new dog in his life, plus a more than generous amount of his political views.

You’re not meant to take any of this seriously – in fact, it’s a bit impossible when he’s cracking jokes about it in front of a huge banner with so many pictures of himself that you could mistake it for a remake of Michael Keaton’s Multiplicity. Despite this constant reminder of the good in Goodwil, his willingness to invite the audience to laugh with himself at himself is welcoming and humble.

At times he strays into loud and opinionated, but usually he’s oddly convincing, even with a few of his more unconventional ideas. There’s a larrikin feel to his comedy which is perfectly matched by the two beers he drains during the course of his show.

A veteran of the comedy festival, Anderson has earned every member of the big audience he draws. He clearly has fun on stage, and is on brilliant form this year.

Wil Anderson in Goodwil is on at the Princess Theatre, Tues – Sat 8:45pm, Sun 5:15pm until April 21st.

Nina D. Flanagan writes…

The crux of this show was the pitfalls of racial stereotyping. Hing discusses career success based purely on positive racism, beginning with a boss who knew he would be hard working because of his ethnicity, despite numerous obvious and irresponsible exploits. Relationship failure due to his girlfriend’s misguided attempt at avoiding social stigma. His own accidental brushes with racism. Doesn’t sound fun, right? And yet the show’s hilarious.

I was waiting for it to descend into a socialist rant, or some moralising on the evils of society, but that never happened. Hing respected the audience enough to not over-explain, and left it up to us to think about what a d-ckhead his boss was to assume his new, drunk employee was first rate, just because he was ‘oriental.’ Or how sad that his girlfriend felt the need to do what she did.

The thing is, Hing just told us his stories. In the same way any other comedian tells stories, just these stories had a little something to think about in the background of them. But you have to think about the moral of the story– if you want to– after the show, because during it you don’t have time to do anything but hang on every word and laugh.

It’s refreshing to see a younger man take to the stage with such confidence and display such engaging comedy. Admittedly, some parts were less intelligent than others, such as the Dyson hand-dryer story, but the show was consistently terrific. A surprising, well-delivered, and tremendously funny examination of the kinds of stuff people don’t usually talk about.

Michael Hing in Occupy White People is on at the Portland Hotel, 7:15pm Tues – Sat, 6:15pm Sun until April 21st.

Mark Pearce writes…

It’s a mystery to me why gay marriage has become such a vexed political issue in Australia. If anything gay marriage, when it comes, will underscore the ‘normalization’ of homosexuality and probably knock off some of its radical activist edge.

This is part of the sub-text to Warrick Glynn’s new comedy which received its world premier at the Mechanics Institute in Brunswick this week. It’s a well-crafted, witty and satisfying piece about a gay couple and their domestic journey towards (what can only be for now) a token marriage plus all the requisite anxieties.

This is Glynn’s second play, his first comedy ‘From Arsehole to Breakfast’ was a well-deserved sell-out hit at Midsumma 2010, and marked the playwright as a comedy and theatrical talent.

If Oscar Wilde had been born in Altona in the 1960′s he probably would have emerged as Warrick Glynn who has an excellent ear for fluent dialogue and talent for crisp amusing one -iners.

Despite the sit-com scenario there is a quality about the production, with its fast moving scenes and pithy dialogue that gives it class.Director Andrew Vial has done well with a new play that flows smoothly despite a few missed jokes here and there.

Daniel Madrigali as Steve and Francisco Lopez as Joe are both excellent as the couple in love, particularly Madrigali whose sharp, angular quips and comic presence brightens the stage from the start to end.

The cast display breadth and depth as the drama takes some unexpected poignant turns. Mary, played by Lynda West, did an excellent job as Joe’s mother. I won’t spoil it by revealing the final plot twist, only to say that I was surprisingly moved.

Never Say Always is playing at the Mechanics Institute Performing Arts Centre, 9:15pm with weekend matinees until April 14th.

Follow Mark Pearce on Twitter: @marcpatrichenry

Lemons. Robots. Voluptuous. Cage fighting. Obliquely. These and other words and phrases are pinned up around the stage, and over the course of her show Alice Fraser works all of them into her act – sometimes seamlessly, sometimes more obviously. Similarly, some of the complex, personal concepts in her act fit in perfectly, while others, well, not so much.

After a quick warm-up from Sydney comedian Matty B and his stoner drawl, Alice comes out, armed with a banjo. But after a first quick song it retires for most of the show, for it’s a show for speaking rather than singing – a show about words and how we use them, Alice says, as well as life, death, feminism and other serious topics.

And there are some very serious topics in this show, especially about Alice’s relationship with her mother, suffering from MS since before Alice was born. But they’re expertly countered by less serious jokes about bus stalking, anal bleaching, English around the world, women’s magazines, the second half of popular sayings, Germans, robots and losing all your consonants.

Alice is at her best when her material is genuine and heartfelt, whether it’s funny or not – and some of the material about her mother and family is truly heartbreaking. But the balance between tragedy and comedy is strong; she has a gift for bringing things to a serious point, letting the point linger and sink in and then tearing back to the laughs again to leave you gasping.

Word Crime is not perfect; it’s a show that starts strong but starts to feel rushed and a bit didactic towards the end. But even when flawed, it’s intelligent, compelling and occasionally achingly sad while at the same time very funny. With only two shows left in the Festival, you’ll have to rush if you want Alice Fraser to break your heart – and then maybe sew it back up again.

Alice Fraser in Word Crime is on at the Butterfly Club, 6pm on 16th and 17th April.

You can visit Patrick O’Duffy’s website or follow him on twitter: @patrickoduffy.

Taylor strides the modest stage with a naive, nervous confidence, his routine well rehearsed and audience engagement smooth. Looking dapper in a velvet jacket and bow tie, his show contains personal experiences and details about how he’s learned and grown as a man, trying to uncover and encourage masculine aspects that don’t come naturally, to earn the beard on his face, as he puts it.

Throughout the show he routinely returns to one of two chairs on the stage, to deliver an argument for the affirmative or the negative as to the relevance of masculinity. As a frame it works well, and has the kind of material that’d find a welcome home in any ‘Great Debate’. The remainder is a personal story of growth and self discovery, and he’s remarkably open and honest.

His casual approach welcomes crowd interaction, and Taylor wasn’t shy to have a chat, at one point completely (and quickly) recapping the first ten minutes for late comers, including coming out on stage again. His use of a song from Disney’s Mulan might have defeated his argument of masculinity a bit, but he seemed to be enjoying it so much it’s hard to begrudge.

It’s an intelligent and clever show, and Taylor deserves big audiences. There’s plenty of the festival left to go and see him.

1 Man Debate with Simon Taylor is on at the Trades Hall, 7pm Tues – Sat, 6pm Sun until April 21st.

Nicole Humphreys writes…

Shenoah Allen and Mark Chavez – The Pajama Men – are talented comedians.  They both impress the audience with their assorted repertoire of characters, facial gymnastics and vocal abilities.

The absurdist storyline bounces between several pairs of characters, each with their own distinctly amusing idiosyncrasies.  It’s eclectic and it takes a little while to start making sense – but it actually doesn’t matter, as the boys’ ability to keep you entertained is an amusing way to keep you guessing.  And once you’re on their wavelength you’re in for a pretty fun ride.

It’s a fast paced show but their transitions between characters are seamless.  They even drop in the local reference of an Australian waiter character to the audiences’ enjoyment.

There’s a ‘penny drop’ moment – which for this reviewer came about half way through the one hour show – when all of a sudden it becomes apparent how all of the characters’ stories are going to weave in together.

Allen and Chavez faultlessly combine stories of a medieval king and his hunch-backed sidekick with a one-armed family-friendly-casino-owning hillbilly, a Latin lothario and many others. Situations that you thought were so obscure at the start begin to make sense.

At times, their play on idioms was slightly overdone but that is the only small critique in this very entertaining show.  The Pajama Men will have you baffled and laughing, but most of all impressed at their diverse skill sets.

Just the Two of Each of Us is on at the Arts Centre, 9:00pm Tues – Sat, 8:00pm Sun until April 21st.

The poster was terrible, my vodka was in a plastic cup and there was almost no one in the audience. So it was just as well Geraldine Quinn was hilarious.

Part musical theatre, part rock eisteddfod, part poignant social reflection and lots of sass – Quinn has it all. She flounces on stage in a lycra onesie and devilish black cape, clambers over the audience (such as we were) and belts her way through an hour of original tunes. I laughed so hard I may well have missed the point, but I think it was about an awesome rock goddess who gets sidetracked by the minutiae and monotony of human misery – and whose OTT delivery is at odds with her songs about the kind of ordinary experiences that we all know.

Quinn can a) sing, b) write very funny lyrics, and c) sing them so you can actually understand the words and therefore appreciate their funniness. This puts her ahead of almost every comedian who tries this kind of thing.

She sings of the messiness and inconvenience of the bratty children of one’s friends. She ruminates on awkward, tense family dynamics in which mothers throw out their daughter’s treasured copy of Charlotte’s Web. Excessive text messaging of one’s boyfriend gets a look-in. She glares, struts and singles out the perplexed 12-year-old in the audience for special mention. In a nice way.

I don’t know what shows you’re seeing, Melbourne, but you’re missing out if you don’t pay Quinn a visit, bad vodka and all.

Geraldine Quinn in Stranger at the Trades Hall, Tues – Sat 8:15pm, Sun 7:15pm until April 21st.

Cathy Alexander is the deputy editor of Crikey. You can follow her on Twitter: @cathymalexander

Gadsby’s show is a story about growing up, but it goes much deeper than the surface achievements like passing a driving test. The show’s guiding maxim is that ‘you don’t really become an adult until you regain the confidence you lost as an adolescent’.

And so Gadsby takes us through the inevitable loss of innocence and confidence that she experienced as a teenager, through those intervening years where confidence was still out of reach (the innocence remains lost forever), to the moving but funny stories that lead to regaining that confidence. Gadsby demonstrates with a surprise finale that her confidence really is back.

This is a very personal show – vulnerabilities of body, mind and relationships are all part of it – but Gadsby keeps the audience laughing. There are a couple of moments where there is almost too much reality and we are silent, but I don’t begrudge these moments. They make the laughs that follow all the more heartfelt.

It’s easy to think that comedians must be supremely confident if they are able to get up on stage at the mercy of an audience, but Gadsby shows that it can be quite the opposite – that comedy might perhaps grow out of low self-esteem, and one day be a vehicle towards eventually regaining some of the lost confidence of adolescence.

This is the story of a journey. Viewers who are afraid of confessional comedy might find it confronting, but Hannah Gadsby’s skills as a comedian make this both an inspiring and very funny experience.

Hannah Gadsby in Happiness is a Bedside Table is on at the Melbourne Town Supper Room, Tuesday to Saturday at 7.00pm and Sunday at 6.00pm until April 21.

Suzannah Marshall Macbeth blogs at equineocean. You can follow her on twitter @equineocean.

Nicole Humphreys writes…

Bart is a quirky and entertaining performer – The Age of Wonder is thankfully not your run-of-the-mill comedy gig.  His age of wonder is childhood youth and his cleverly sculpted jokes let the audience reminisce and think about their versions of his anecdotes.

Bart sees things differently to most people.  But he takes you on his journey and it’s funny, intelligent and genuine.

Bart amuses the audience talking about childhood dreams, what kids want to be when they grow up and the simple naivety of being a child.  He weaves in personal accounts, revealing his devastation at realising that he will never be able to recreate his ‘becoming a man’ moment; stepping up from a Happy Meal to eat his first Big Mac.

It’s not all about childhood nostalgia, Bart flows nicely into stories talking about the crazy world of the internet and his experiences with internet dating.  He manages to subtly turn a few perceptions on their head and without you realising, make you think about something in a way you hadn’t before.  Instead of the easy gag and making fun of fat people, Bart casts them in a new light – with potential super human powers – and the positive spin is a humble and funny one.

Bart certainly has unique observations, but has a way of capturing these ideas and delivering them through compelling stories and anecdotes.  The Age of Wonder is a genuinely funny and entertaining show with intelligent and insightful undertones.

Bart Freebairn in The Age of Wonder is on at the Spleen Bar, 9:30pm Tues – Thurs and Sat until April 20.

For what opens as a sexed-up, highly warped fairytale, the plot of Slutmonster manages to get ever more twisted as it progresses. The titular Monster (played by Jessie Ngaio in the most anatomically incorrect onesie ever made) bumps into Larch (Lucas Heil) and Bovril (Wes Gardner), two princes lost in a land full of poisonous berries, boob flowers and friendly puppets. The pair attempt to socialise the Monster, but their increasingly dire situation sends the course of this fairytale spinning into ever filthier, crasser, funnier territory.

The production is surprisingly polished for a team of people that don’t appear to have been on the comedy circuit too long. The set pieces are beautiful and absurd things, packed full of genitalia-like imagery. The music cues and comic timing are almost always spot on, the cartoons that link each section are beautifully and cleverly rendered, and the puppetry is basic but very effective. While there are one or two scenes that drag (both musical soliloquies), the show sails along on the strength of its ideas and production values.

The whole show is a completely bonkers idea (blame Nelson Gardner, director/choreographer).  On one hand, this show is likely to exhaust any need you might have to hear another crude joke. And there seem to be more penises and nipples on stage than there are audience members watching the show unfold. When operating on this level of crassness, most shows stumble, crash and burn in a spiralling attempt to milk the filth out of every last sex joke simply because they’ve got nothing better to fall back on.

But here’s the thing: Slutmonster actually works. Magnificently. At first glance, this seems like one of those shows that is happily swept along by the madness of its own ridiculous plotline. But on closer inspection it becomes abundantly clear just how well each element of the show is structured. It’s a show that’s happy to roll about in its own muck, but it’s also capable of pulling out all these other relatively clean jokes that demonstrate the team behind this is no one-trick pony. Simply put, most of the jokes are in there partially because they’re disgusting, but mostly because they’re good.

Slutmonster is gross-out porn of the highest quality, and dammit if you don’t just swallow your gag reflex and wade through this festering delight of a show.

Slutmonster and Friends is on at the Northcote Town Hall, Thurs – Sat 10pm, until April 21st.

Siobhan has her own blog called .ReviewMania. or follow her on twitter: @siobhanargent.

Patrick O’Duffy writes…

‘Nob Happy Sock’? What does that mean? Wait, check the poster. Apparently this is a show by Simon Keck about… how he tried to kill himself a few years ago? Does that sound like a good night out?

Possibly not, but here’s the thing – yes, it’s a comedy show about attempted suicide. But it’s a bloody good one that’s often hilarious.

With a mix of wit, sensitivity and a deep, sympathetic sadness, Simon spends the next hour working his way through his journey from Sydney to Melbourne, his attempts to get his life in order and his failure to do so due to an inability to ask for help, all culminating in his eventual decision to pack it all in. That might sound grim, but along the way there are stories of filth lattes, Redfern cockroaches, why he can’t get arts funding, the call of the inner Sherpa, Iron Chef, failure tennis, a sexual Mexican standoff and a near-death experience with a beloved Muppet. And while the destination of the trip is serious, getting there is both moving and utterly hilarious.

Nob Happy Sock (a strange title, yes, but it makes sense in the end) is both a confronting emotional examination of depression and a very funny comedy show, and Simon deserves all the credit for somehow pulling the mix off. His mix of smart, self-aware writing and polished performance gives this show a visceral weight, while the jokes and stories stop that weight from crushing the audience.

This isn’t a show for everyone, because it does get confronting and uncomfortable at times, but if you can handle the subject matter then you’ll be rewarded with a powerful, intelligent and very, very funny show. Go see it. It’s worth it.

Simon Keck in Nob Happy Sock is on at the Portland Hotel, Tues – Sat 6pm, Sun 5pm until April 21st.

You can visit Patrick O’Duffy’s website or follow him on twitter: @patrickoduffy.

Inspired by great detectives from the past (ranging from Sherlock Holmes, to House, to Jonathan Ames) Leung embarks on a journey to become a detective, exploring how a detective thinks and exercising his powers of observation, before tackling his own case involving a an unsolved case from his past of prank gone wrong at his birthday party.

Armed with a list of suspects, he methodically carries out his investigation. At times he’s at danger of being upstaged by the footage of his parents, and I’m tempted to wonder when they’ll have their own festival show.

As he makes methodical progress through his case he laces it with generous segues to keep the jokes rolling, and he uses his slides and videos well. The show could have benefited from a bit more of a stage – those sitting at the front had a better view of the screen – but between Leung and the presentation there’s a lot going on to keep the momentum strong.

Leung has an easy style of comedy, and a natural energy with gags that should be accessible to all. It’s the kind of show front-loaded with as many facts as there are gags, and you should come away learning something as well.

Lawrence Leung’s Part Time Detective Agency is on at the Swiss Club, 9:30pm Tues – Sun, 8:30pm Sat until April 21st.

Matt Smith has his own blog, The End of the Spectrum, and you can follow him on twitter: @nightlightguy.

Caught in the glare of the lights and with an audience looking on, all four are more than happy to perform a story that explains their purchase of cabbage. If there’s one lesson to be learned, it is that people who eat cabbage are definitely not shy.

Although the characters are strangers to one another and never meet (inevitable, given that the play is acted by Edmonds alone), they are linked by their connection to a fifth person who flits around the edges. As a linking device, this fifth character is not wholly effective; her presence in some of the stories is a little tenuous.

Rather, the strength of the show is in the two hilarious female characters that we see on stage. At least initially, these are characters who, although exaggerated and based on stereotypes, are funny because they feel like part of an awfully realistic nightmare.

Like the female characters, the male characters are very ‘out there’ – one needs a love of the absurd in order to appreciate ‘John Watts of Pasfield Street’ and ‘Trevor, your Mental ’Ealth’.

The Quarter Cabbage is Melbourne-based and so suburban references no doubt make the most sense to Melbourne locals, but every city has its Laverton or its Northcote equivalent and so this is not a show that would exclude outsiders.

Edmonds does a great job shifting between characters, and relates well to the audience. However, this was without a doubt the most random comedy show I’ve seen in a while. Unexpected and slightly insane, it will appeal to those who like their comedy interspersed with drama and music, and enacted by totally whacky characters.

Anne Edmonds in The Quarter Cabbage is on at the Melbourne Town Hall Lunch Room, Tuesday to Saturday at 8.30pm and Sunday at 7.30pm until April 21.

Suzannah Marshall Macbeth blogs at equineocean. You can follow her on twitter @equineocean.