Review by Steve Bennett

But his style does take a little getting used to. He wants a bit of a friendly, low-key chat, but it can be charged with an engineered awkwardness. You’re not immediately sure where you stand with his ambiguous persona, and he’s slow to build comic momentum.

But gradually, his self-effacing charm wins through, as his knowing comments on his own strengths and weaknesses endear him to the audience. He’s a regular compere, and you can see it in his set; he’s never too far from lapsing into that mode, happier reacting to spontaneous goings-on than he is with his prepared material.

True enough, this quick-thinking Liverpudlian does get some good lines from improvising, although the corollary to this is that sometimes he treads water, aimlessly waiting for something to happen to inspire him.

But even when the comic energy is just bubbling along gently, Silky will suddenly provide an unexpected laugh, most often from his inspired use of language. There’s a generous handful of wonderful little phrases in his set, often as short as a word or two, but so perfectly judged, they cannot help but trigger a heartfelt chuckle.

He has a mastery of the descriptive phrase, even if the set isn’t punchy enough to ride a wave of sharp gags. But if it’s amiable timewasting tinged with some fanciful daftness you’re after, Silky’s your man.

He also has in his armoury a collection of folky guitar songs. He’s a fine musician, even if his output all tends to be stylistically similar, involving routines about filth or pulling in nightclubs set to unsuitably gentle melodies, sometimes to great effect, other times less so.

And that’s typical of his act: very inconsistent, but capable of greatness.

Review date: 10 May 2007
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett