Living up to his show’s name, Bob Slayer Will Outdrink Australia, the former tour manager turned stand-up downed pints at a rate that would give Bob Hawke a run for his money.

The punters did well to mind their beverages as the surprisingly nimble Mr Slayer was fond of dashing into the crowd and stealing unguarded beers. And this was before the show, in the appropriately situated stage room at Northbridge bar Rosie O’Grady’s, had even begun.

Slayer, making his way to us from Hereford in the west of England, began his foray into comedy while working for an American alternative rock group, The Bloodhound Gang. He was pushed onto the stage as a distraction while the musicians went to have a cigarette break. He found that the more entertaining he was, the fewer cups of beer and other liquids seemed to be hurled in his direction.

This unconventional introduction to comedy seems to have contributed in no small part to Slayer’s ability to create an on-the-fly evening of comedy using his own experience, the goodwill of the crowd and litres upon litres of liquid courage.

As people trickled in after the 8.30pm start time, he made sure they knew he was not pleased, producing a gigantic extendible pointer with which to isolate and berate the latecomers. While the room was small, the seats were packed and he created a real camaraderie among the crowd, many of whom were quick to freshen his drink after one of his many speed-drinking efforts.

At times, Slayer himself even seemed taken aback by his own lack of structure and form, constantly apologising for the lack of momentum on the basis that his free-drink limit had been lowered from seven pints to three after the previous night’s antics. After ensuring, in his own words, that the crowd hated him enough to get involved, he procured a dart board and offered himself as a target.

After taking us through some slightly less G-rated forms of audience participation, which left him wearing nothing but a shirt tucked into his underpants, Slayer’s grand finale got the whole room shaking.

Pulling an embarrassed audience member from the comfort of his seat, Slayer set about dressing up the young man as Freddy Mercury before thrusting a sheet of lyrics into his hands and urging the crowd to stomp their feet and clap in a rousing rendition of We Will Rock You.

Walking through Northbridge a while later, I saw Slayer moving between watering holes with some of the audience in tow.

Bob Slayer certainly could out-drink Australia, and he certainly cemented a devoted and thirsty following of Fringe-goers.