Presented by Token Events
@ The Garden of Unearthly Delights – The Deluxe
SUNDAY 26 February (until March 18)

So speaks the good-looking man sitting next to me in the front row of the Deluxe. It’s a nicely air-conditioned island in the warm and moist Garden of Unearthly Delights. There is an edgy air of anticipation for the show and an undercurrent of anxiety, especially in the front couple of rows. Sam is well known for his comedic genius, and equally well known for his delight in picking on audience members.

He enters to some shitty music, his balding head shining in the spotlight. Maybe he is aware of the distracting glare because he soon dons a cap. Right from the beginning he has energy and he’s clearly enjoying himself. Although no doubt he has run through the jokes and sketches hundreds of times in practice, you can still see his little smiles of satisfaction when they go down well. The stage props are simple – there’s plenty of shitty Ikea furniture – but he’s got a great story for each one. He breaks character a couple of times, but always to pull in another laugh. Soon enough, the time comes for him to humiliate an audience member who, coincidentally, happens to be the man next to me who earlier expressed his fear of being picked on. Well, he shouldn’t have sat at the front. Sam rubs his sweaty belly all over him. On two separate occasions. Poor guy.

The show is based around a main narrative – the story of The Man, a sad and lonely man who therefore makes a perfect target for some pithy comedy. This narrative takes several wide, absurd, and hilarious turns, from the ritualistic humiliation of the man next to me, to some ridiculing of the shitty Ikea furniture, to descriptions of himself as “Doctor Phil’s inbred cousin” and an “AIDSy Magnum P.I.” It is punctuated by sporadic rants that involve The Man being kicked out of various establishments. Sam’s use of analogy is brilliant: “The Man felt like a Lego dildo lying in pieces on the bathroom floor”. At times Sam breaks into song; he has a surprisingly good voice. I don’t realize how absorbed I am in the performance until it ends with him finally constructing the coffee table (which won’t mean anything to you until you see the show).

Apart from the moist spattering of sweat I receive as Sam is straddling my neighbour, the show is brilliant. I laugh, the rest of the audience laughs, Sam laughs. Even the poor victim of the sweaty belly-rub laughs, at times uncomfortably. We all have a great time, and I walk away happy. Everyone, it seems, walks away happy.

While I wouldn’t recommend this as a family show (it was the first time I had ever heard the phrase “choose a cunting sandwich”), it is definitely going to be the highlight of my week. And it is only Sunday.