David Quirk, an unapologetic child of the ‘80s, paints the scene immediately with his passion for Guns N’ Roses, leather trousers and idolatry of Slash. He takes us on a journey down memory lane to the antics on his school bus and the characters of his childhood, up through the trials and tribulations of the world of comedy, love, and alcoholism, to the moment where we all find ourselves in the same room.
Quirk brings the human side to comedy, bearing his soul as he exposes the good, the bad, and the ugly deeds of his past to the audience in equal measure. A smile never crosses Quirk’s face; whether or not you’re amused by the journey, the audience opinion seems of little importance to him.
Quirk is the everyman; through his tales of stupid mistakes, compounded by further stupid mistakes, we reflect upon our own weaknesses, our tendencies to lie, to blame others, to pretend we are better people than we are. We watch him dig, and keep digging, and desperately wonder how our anti-hero is going to redeem himself.
Quirk portrays a character who has put off growing up; he is weak in the face of temptation and often out of his depth. Like a masterful storyteller Quirk does not fear trading some laughs for the more serious side of his storytelling. The atmosphere in the room was thick with pathos as the crowd (with undivided attention) waited to find out what happened next. Honesty in comedy is deeply attractive and we all emerged feeling close to Quirk and empathising with his fate. You’ll find yourself invested in the outcomes of David’s story, needing to know what happened next. And like most adept entertainers, Quirk leaves you wanting more; some strands of the narrative left to your interpretation.
If you emerge from this show unable to relate in any way, you may be a little bit dead on the inside. Quirk is an accomplished storyteller and this pilgrimage into the human condition is well worth embarking on.
