Review by Steve Bennett

Your enjoyment of the Dog-Eared Collective’s loosely structured sketch show will depend almost entirely on your tolerance of ‘zany’.

For while these foursome have bags of brio, their comedy, delivered through a cast of exaggerated freaks, is so broad as to make Horne & Corden look subtle.

Every one of them looks a proper state with a wardrobe that includes bottle-bottom glasses, wacky hats with drinks sellotaped to them, garishly coloured kagouls, orange jump-suits, bin-bags, high-visibility jackets and swimming goggles. They have confused rummaging around in the Oxfam bargain bin for characterisation.

There’s a sort of retro Eighties feel to it all: part Kenny Everett, part the jolly amateurism of early alternative comedy – all cheap props and cheaper scripts, with the only thing funnier than a knob gag being a fart. Men may be from Mars, but in the Collective’s world, women are from a planet called ‘Uterus’, that’s the level

The idea is the that these four losers work for Yorkshire helpline heroes Ni-Nightline, and we are watching a public-service performance giving advice what to do in the event of impending global catastrophe. Though any suggestion of plot is simply an excuse to arse around.

It’s clearly a weird world they are trying to create, but they don’t let you suspend disbelief in the way that the subtle worlds of the Boosh or League Of Gentlemen – both clear influences – do. Instead, it’s all energy and enthusiasm, neither of which they are lacking, over content.

Shame, because the performers are likeable; but a semblance of gags would be preferable.

Review date: 8 Aug 2009
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett