An entertaining yet highly prurient act, Martin Mor’s How Do You Like Your Blue-eyed Boy Mister Death? offers a reinvigorated, revitalised and thoroughly welcome attitude towards the frivolities of everyday life. As the title vaguely suggests, Mor walked away unscathed after a severe car crash last February with a new outlook on life. Although there were times when the show devolved into something altogether more offensive and lacking in comedic value, nonetheless, it was a solid performance complete with a substantial amount of ad-libbed material.
The show begins with a few brief interviews to get to know the audience, which proved to be the material for several national stereotypes and impressions; an icebreaker of sorts. Mor being an Irishman- necessarily and hopelessly superstitious- the audience was then shown an assortment of his charms and good luck paraphernalia: a pendant with Jesus and, just to make sure all his bases were covered, a small Buddhist trinket. Better safe than sorry, I guess.
Along with a renewed appreciation for life, one major motif that is consistently reinforced throughout the show is that of ‘carpe diem’. Consequently, Mor then shared a highly dramatised, histrionic and humorous account of a time he skydived to check it off his bucket list. Perhaps the highlight of the night, however, was a hilarious tale of a spontaneous biking trip through Tijuana with a group of American frat boys. Did I forget to mention there were peyote cacti and he camped in a Wendy house (apparently the cheapest tent that could be found)? Despite his previous remarks, Mor did find time to admit several regrets, the most memorable of which was a photo of a transvestite gifted to a friend in the hope it would help him through the darkest nights when he went to prison. The show wrapped up with yet another story, this time something to do with strip poker in Dubai in the 1980’s.
A discussion about anything and everything, How Do You Like Your Blue-eyed Boy Mister Death? is a multidimensional experience offering a little insight into the sick, perverted mind of most comedians. Though by no stretch of the imagination the type of man you’d likely expect to find in the back corner of some shady pub, Mor does manage to successfully link the various transgressions of the audience with tales from his colourful past in a way amusing to all.
