Sammy J is an Australian comedy singer-songwriter who interweaves stories from his own life with jaunty numbers on the piano, occasionally sipping on his carton of juice as a French philosophe would drag on a gauloise. Weirder and more skittish than Tim Minchin (all comparisons are odious, said Don Quixote, but this one is unavoidable), he is also less consistent. After a fairly juvenile and protracted account of double-cocking a peer on a bus, he has some excellent material on alternatives to heckling (one of which is musically callbacked after the end of the show) and on paintball, which boasts a nice turn of phrase (five pellet plan) and a breathtaking summary of the crucial arrows in the Kevin Costner classic, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. This, however, is followed by a nauseating story about an unidentifiable object in his rectum and a very long-winded surreal tale about mermaids.His songs suffer from the same problem. A catchy, oddly moving paean to his older self and the computerised equivalent of the box of memories younger generations will have to sift through sits next to a catchy, but superficial jazz/ska montage. Were he to maintain the level of wit he shows in the non-scatological passages throughout, Sammy J would be a real comic force. A fickle set, by turns sweet and disgusting, callous and poignant, but a bit of technical and thematic discipline would sharpen an already lively hour.