Scotland's answer to, well just about every other magician you've ever seen, sets the tone of the show from the opening line of Good evening, you're all a bunch of c***s, and it pretty much heads straight downhill from there.
As he himself says, he has to do the magic stuff just to be allowed onto the stage; if he went to a venue and gave them a snippet of just the stand-up side of the act, he'd probably never work again.
The magic is top-notch - mainly card manipulation - and all clearly displayed to the large audience by an overhead camera projecting onto a huge screen over the stage, but really, that's not what we're here for. It's the invective and the spleen that's really on display here, with a dazzling hour of cheek-sucking comedy that is so far beyond 'near the knuckle'.
It's hard to understand how Jerry Sadowitz gets away with it, but he does. Brilliantly.
I think it's the gradual build up as he gets you laughing at the slightly naughty (David Blunkett), then onto proper taboo (paedophilia, rape) and before you know it he's got you wetting yourself at subjects no comics should be able to touch on a stage (the missing girl Madeline McCann and her parents).
You are never, ever going to see this full-on side of Sadowitz on the telly, so take this chance to catch him while you can. Not only does he manipulate 52 cards effortlessly, but the true magic of the show is how he manipulates his audience into suspending their natural reaction to this level of shock comedy. Lesser men would be left hanging from the rafters at the hands of a lynch mob if they came out with half of the material that Jerry gives us.
Not for the easily offended. Not for the slightly-hard to offend. Not even for the downright difficult to offend, if you like shock comedy and can leave your sense of offence at home, then this is one of your must-see shows at this year's Fringe.
