By Julia Chamberlain

Bit of a strange one, this.  The lovely Leicester Square Theatre is only  a quarter filled, and that sparse population  disposed in favour of young male metalheads who  also like their comedy.

Chirpy transvestite Andrew O’Neill  parodied some of the standard compere gambits with plenty of friendly chat with the merchandise-wearing classes, and self-deprecating comments about how he was not a Goth but could easily be mistaken for one (though not tonight, conjuring up the look of a racy lady library assistant in ripped Mary Quant tights.)  

His delivery of surreal non-sequiturs teetered on the edge of bemusing, before he slammed home some excellent punning wordplay for the those who enjoy the certainty of jokes you could put a bow on and take home.

He drew the scattered audience to a good focus and introduced Brian Posehn, probably best known for playing neighbour Brian on The Sarah Silverman Program.

Posehn made a classic Morecambe and Wise entry, fighting through the velvet drapes, probably not for comic effect, and made the most of his frankly unprepossessing presentation: a tall, slightly stooping man, bearded and bespectacled in a shapeless sweatshirt and untrendy jeans.

He made frequent reference to looking creepy or monstrous. He was unusually humble for comedian, and it didn’t feel fake.  He disarmingly pointed out that this was going to be a mixture of old bits and new material he was working on, all of it new to me, I’d never even watched him on YouTube.  

‘It’s about to get stupid’ he said – a glorious way of setting expectations low. It led him in to the territory of Fart And Weiner Jokes, the title of his comedy album, clunkily translated as Blow Off And Wank Jokes for the British audience.  

There were several tongue-in-cheek UK/US references, one laboriously achieved for a joke that wasn’t worth the effort, having ‘Love film’ in his nut sac. Please.

He’s the oldest, and most shamefaced, adolescent on the block. Ostensibly  his territory is masturbation, smoking weed,  drinking whisky, heavy metal, being demonstrably not gay (even when being sucked off by a bloke).

At times he showed flashes of  the  vehement contempt of a teenager, combined with the perspective of the 43-year-old bloke he is, still a geek and aware of his geek foibles.

But there was more to this, otherwise he’d would have been as irritating as  a pheromone-soaked teenage nephew.  He talks with genuine tenderness for his gorgeous wife and 14-month-old baby (hmm, not such a monstrous loser then) while cats and dogs  and Star Wars all get name-checked, but in surprisingly non-hack manner.  

His shambling persona and delivery were endearing enough, his more personal material quite winning.  Those fart and wank jokes there for those who wanted them.

This felt like a tentative excursion to work out the UK market . The audience were gently amused and he seemed respectful for the opportunity.  Not mindblowing for those either side of the footlights, but I would give him another go.

Published: 4 Aug 2010