Jarred Keane is a likeable comic who briefly makes some astute observations of human nature before resorting to playground style humour. Interaction with the crowd and managing heckling involved feigning resistance to a retalitory onslaught of the highest comedic value, a value which was never expressed.

As a comedic experiment this show did not work for me, however if you like your comedy extremely accessible and sprinkled with some social commentary, then The Call of the Mild might be just what you are after.

Well, the guys and girls from Late Night Impro thought it was a good idea and produced a show that has become a comedy festival favourite over the past eleven years.

The show starts with an idea shouted from the audience, and then we are treated to an evening of quick-witted and, at times, hilarious improvisation.

The cast use a number of dramatic games to help shape the evening and keep a consistent flow of new ideas and even crazier situations. Scenes are frozen and actors moved around and given a new theme. The language is changed in the middle of sentences. Spontaneous songs are performed and character roles are swapped between actors at random points.

There are moments when the action lulls, but the beauty of this show is that the audience feels part of the creation process. You can forgive moments of indecisiveness when performers have to change to Finnish speaking bomb experts in the middle of a song about siamese twins for instance. Quite often, these moments are amusing in themselves.

The vulnerability of the performers and vigour with which they approach this night make it obvious why this show has become a comedy festival staple.

There is no denying that they are funny guys, but there were moments when comedy took a backseat to the props, videos and heavily scripted conversation.

Spontaneous moments were few and far between during the performance, leaving their comic virtues truly untapped. I found the evening highly entertaining, but Tripod have delivered far funnier and more quick-witted performances than How to Train an Attack Dog from Scratch.

The songs were fantastically performed with a real flair for each musical genre covered, but there were very few funny lines.

By the end of the show, I came out knowing very little about training attack dogs but a whole lot more about musical comedy, with the emphasis quite heavily placed on music rather than comedy.

There is a real sense of conversation to this show, as though you’ve just met Fiona at the pub and she’s decided to confess her most humiliating moments to you. The audience can really relate to O’Loughlin’s awkward situations but breathe a collective sigh of relief that she is the one who has, in fact, lived them. Throughout her performance, O’Loughlin keeps the audience at a constant giggle level, which is regularly interspersed with big laughs.

She posses quite a unique delivery that despite the gravity of some of her topics stills keeps the humour present and alive. The audience is taken on a journey through Fiona’s experiences from Alice Springs to Rome and from infant race relations to a grandfather with roving hands. All these varied topics are delivered with the same unabashed honesty that leaves Fiona playing the fool. I look forward to next year’s show to see what embarrassment and humiliation Fiona has put herself through during the course of the year.

Although the show pivots on Shannon Noll, Shane Warne, Amanda Vandstone and Lil’ Johnny, there is a surprising amount of mileage with Wil’s spin on these Australian comedic staples. Wil sprays the audience with an absolute barrage of words, cutting himself off mid-sentence to take us down yet another path of political observation.

This man has thought long and hard about the state of this country and the road we’re all heading down, and this show is a veritable ‘how to’ guide for race relations and political reform. Wil seems well travelled, well read and well-informed but with a deep desire to scull a beer and yell, ‘Show us your tits!’

There’s a lot to be learnt from this man if you don’t mind following him down numerous paths. Wil spends an hour teaching the audience what it means to be Australian, everything from a drunken souvlaki to dodging jail with a burka. Wil Anderson would be the first to say not buying a ticket to his show would just be unAustralian.

Over the course of an hour all Kieran’s personal misfortune and misery was directly attributed to the fall and fall again of a club many hold so dear to their hearts. He drew comparisons between life’s sometimes cruel twists and turns and the regular disappointments on the football field experienced by those in black and white.

Under the hallowed roof of the Bobby Rose room, Butler shared his personal heartaches, punctuating his tales with the occasional song. Throughout the performance was the continual reference to the 1990 victory, a lone shining moment in an otherwise cruel sporting past and a justification for a life long dedication.

Staged inside a true piece of football history and dealing with one of the most significant clubs of all time, Kieran Butler claims Collingwood Ruined My Life is sure to find a shoulder to cry on amongst the diehard Collingwood supporters and football lovers alike. After the show Butler will be propped up at the bar sobbing into his beer, and if you’re any sort of fan you’ll be right there beside him.