Comedy is highly subjective, but it is hard to imagine how anyone might not find someone as genial and goofy and downright decent as Adam Hills funny.
A one-man quest not to be a dick
The title of the show is, of course, a reference to the natal disability which has become not just a stock-in-trade for Hills' comedy patter, but an effectively irreverent rallying cry against ableism. But Hill's vibe - whilst always righteously outraged by the more nefarious aspects of our increasingly strange world - is far from sanctimonious or sermonising. And that's despite the fact that he loves a good sermon, does our Adam. But it is all done with such warmth, such crinkle-faced bemusement, and such self-awareness that we cannot help but be won over by his one-man quest not to be a dick.
Much of Hill's appeal lies in his relaxed and spontaneous delivery. He chats to the audience; embarrasses them a little; celebrates them a lot. He banters with his BSL interpreter; shuffles through some sporting tales; and shares family moments with all the apparently effortless charm of your next door neighbour grilling a chop at the barbecue whilst swilling down a beer.
He tackles the small things. He tackles the big things. He tackles the things all but guaranteed to start a social media civil war. And he does all of this whilst noting that he himelf is far from perfect; but that if he is just muddling through the days trying not to be an aforementioned phallus, then maybe we should all give it a try.
It is perhaps not the primary job of a comedian to assuage an audience's impotent bewilderment at the state of a world gone mad: but it is undeniably a marvellous feeling to leave a performance space feeling marginally less alone and an awful lot less hopeless. And when coupled with the therapeutic benefits of laugh after laugh, this is a potent combination indeed. So yes, comedy is highly subjective: but this is undeniably a gorgeous, generous and ultimately optimistic hour that will ensure your time and money are very well spent.
