Review by Steve Bennett

A phlegm-filled sack of putrid self-loathing, Neil Hamburger is the perfect satire of a slick, professional nightclub comedian. If you’ve ever suspected that behind the glossy veneer of fake bonhomie of those permasmile acts lies an ugly, embittered, grotesque soul – well Hamburger is that demon made flesh.

In some living Sisyphean hell, every night he dons his tuxedo, greases down his hair and ploughs through the vile set that disgusts even him, just so he can earn a three-piece chicken dinner. Three minutes in to this performance, he asks out of desperate hope of release from this misery: ‘How are we doing for time?’

His contempt for his own pitiful existence is surpassed only for his contempt for the audience who compel him trudge through his despicable cavalcade of jokes. And my, these gags are certainly not for the faint of heart, as he plumbs the depths of depravity for the sake of a laugh.

He often needs hugely convoluted set-ups to place his celebrity victims into positions where he can slam them with the most viciously evil insults. Some of these are the usual suspects – Madonna or Michael Jackson, say – but he’ll pull no punches with even the most obscure targets. Hamburger is a man who seems to harbour a genuine acrid resentment for the minor success of Smashmouth or Blink 182.

The monstrous creation of character comic Gregg Turkington, Hamburger is hilarious because of the seemingly limitless extent of his extremes. The jokes get laughs because they go so far beyond the pale that they come full circle back to being funny again. But then sometimes they get laughs because they are so abysmally poor in the extreme, too.

They are all delivered with an overblown Vegas theatrically that ill-suits the shambolic figure on stage. The punchline isn’t just ‘Robin Williams’ but ‘Miiiiister Rrrrobin Williams!’. And if you’re lucky, the man who gave himself the title America’s Funnyman will tag it with his catchphrase that neatly misses the style of his material entirely: ‘Thaaaat’s my life!’

Hamburger will, however, divide opinion. There is a good chance you’ll hate this character as much as he hates himself. Walkouts are common, and his reputation is almost entirely based on him antagonising music fans by warming up for acts such as Tenacious D and Faith No More. Although ‘warming up’ is probably an inappropriate term given the hostility he engenders.

But savvy, open-minded Fringers who want to witness something truly extraordinary should devour Hamburger with relish.

Review date: 22 Aug 2010
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett