Review by Steve Bennett

Talk about losing the room. Twenty minutes into New Yorker Patrick Melton’s routine the front row were enthusiastically whooping and applauding his offbeat observations. Twenty minute from the end, they left, as the set withered away into the tedious, lazy shtick of ‘offence’ comedy.

It’s easy to pinpoint the mood turned, when he started detailing a Twitter row he had with a ‘midget’, as he kept referring to her, despite her complaints that the term was offensive. Without getting into that, there was nothing funny in the entire exchange, just that he thought her height was funny. On Twitter. Where you can’t see the person you’re arguing with. This isn’t about being delicate and politically correct, it’s just the sheer lack of creativity in thinking the word ‘midget’ is all you need for a laugh.

This segment opened the door to some tired racial stereotypes, admittedly positive ones, about how black people are intrinsically ‘cooler’ than whites; and some shitty misogyny about ugly chicks not getting to make demands of what they want in a man – including ‘respect’. Ugh.

Then there was his political material, which amounted to not wanting Hillary as president as women are ‘too emotional and too stupid’ to lead the free world. Not like Trump then… I’m sure the ‘irony’ of his position goes down great at frat parties, but probably not the sort of man you want talking publicly about women with rape fantasies, but yup, there it is… Even from a point of view of him feeling uncomfortable about the idea of playing along one, the tone feels wrong.

At the first walk-outs – he eventually lost 10 out of the 22 audience members – Melton acknowledged he was ‘not for everyone’, which sounds a lot more edgy than admitting the truth: he was getting boring, even for those who previously loved him. Later he described his job as ‘being an asshole professionally’; but someone should tell him it doesn’t have to be that. What he should have said is that he’s an asshole, and he’s trying to monetise it.

But it all started – and actually ended – so well.

Melton’s a bear of a man, but used to be bigger, losing almost eight stone in a year. He’s got some nice self-deprecating lines on the subject, and even if the fat gags eventually became a bit one-note, plenty of them were funny. And there was a tone of playful mischief in this section, which came to the fore with his material about jokingly vandalising decals on cars.

Only at the end did it return, with some ridiculous imagery based on the incredible fact that Argonaut octopuses can regrow their penises (or should that be octopii and penii?) – a routine with an air of silliness absent from his low-aiming worst.

Melton’s previous claim to fame, at least within comedy circles has been to write a blog that helped expose The London Comedy Club, the clip joint that overcharges unsuspecting tourists for a dire line-up of dismal failures. But it’d be hard to recommend spending money on him, either, despite some flashes of joy in the hour.

Review date: 11 Aug 2016
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Underbelly Bristo Square