Aaron Keefe, Andrea Powell & Daniel Townes

Edit: updated scores.

So I've thrown myself in the deep end and seen another six shows over the last two days, ranging (as you might expect) from the sublime to the shitful. Let's start with what I saw on Saturday, accompanied by the luverly Lisa Greenaway, shall we?

First off was Aaron Keeffe's It's Not You, It's Me, upstairs at English theme pub the Elephant & Wheelbarrow. Not somewhere I've been often, not being a fan of English beer, although I did once have a lukewarm parma there once. Speaking of lukewarm, let's talk about the comedy... or rather the lack thereof.

Keeffe's poorly structured show was matched by a rushed, awkward delivery, a distinct lack of stage presence, and a virtual absence of jokes. The concept was what drew me in: the bloke set out to survey his ex-girlfriends to see why they'd broken up with him in the first place. Sadly only two of his 11 ex's had actually responded. Equally sadly, the funniest line of the night was written by one of Keeffe's ex-girlfriends about him, rather than by the comedian himself. One pained grimace out of five. (Elephant & Wheelbarrow until April 28)


After dinner and a restorative glass of wine, it was time to see Andrea Powell in How Do You Like Your Eggs? Perhaps best known for her monstrous harridan Ethel Chop, this simply staged show saw Powell ensconsed on a chair before an unfortunately small audience. Just as unfortunate was the fact that we decided to sit in the front row, resulting in Lisa and I being roped into the audience participation segments of the evening. If you've ever seen me trying to salsa, you'll know I provided several moments of utter hilarity for those present...

Exploring the ins and outs of modern dating, including where to meet men, RSVP.com and speed dating, Powell's barbed wit and measured, precise delivery were a delightful tonic after the previous show we'd suffered through. While I could have lived without the intrusive plug for Ethel Chop's book, over all this was a strong, sharply observed and well-structured evening of stand-up, complete with restrained use of audio-visual (keep an eye out for Andrea's pussy - it's a hoot!) and a few deftly presented minor characters to keep the narrative moving.

While the show's middle third needs some tightening, and saw the energy drop a little, and Powell's humour occasionally borders on the almost too savage, overall I'd heartily recommend this production. Three braying laughs out of five. (Town Hall til April 29)


Last up for the evening was Sydney comic Daniel Townes. A charismatic, laid-back bogan (or Westie to be more apt, as he's from Sydney's Blacktown) Townes swears like a trooper, grins engagingly, and regularly tiptoed along the border between crude and offensive without ever crossing the line. I was enjoying his performance so much, despite the small, claustrophobic space he's been programmed into, that I forgot to take notes, so I can't really go into detail about his act save that part of it centers around his recent deportation from the USA, and he also talks about bedbugs. The rest you can find out for yourselves. Three stoned giggles out of five. (Portland Hotel until April 29)