“Did you see this, did you hear about that? Have you ever noticed that when…” It is a formula sure, but one that works and Byron Bertram knocks joke after joke out of the park. “You ever notice that some people don’t laugh, they just smile and nod like some creepy German tourist!” Jokes come thick and fast, it’s this man’s job and he goes to work.

Bertram is a polished professional, smooth in delivery and sharp of wit. He is a likeable guy, like a dude you would meet while ordering a drink at the bar who starts up a conversation that runs for the rest of the night. He bangs through topics: guilt, anger, alcohol abuse, mum words, speed dating with Chinese to English translations.

You will laugh a lot and you will leave happy. Blue Diamond is a fantastic venue for stand up, it’s like a comedy club for the one percent, check them both out.

The show, Me Pregnant! is an absurdist monster tale with delusions of God and it is thoroughly engaging. Starting as a narrated fairy tale, Coyle appears as just a floating head, illuminated by a flickering candle before prancing into a parade of people and creatures that populate a village and the story. Like a one man Pajama Men, Coyle bounces effortlessly between his characters, creating a fully formed, bizarre world for them to inhabit. He is a charming performer, connecting with the audience through his eccentric energy, love-me grin and fine acting. At times he is even reminiscent of a young, in-character Steve Martin, right down to the “crazy guys” catchphrase. It is a detail and laughter-rich script, painting a world of Terry Gilliamesque madness.

Challenge yourself with something different, something strange, a show about the failure of a redemptive spirit. A perfect, offbeat six o’clock show to warm you up for a night of comedy. Add Nick Coyle to your line up.

From the start, he has the audience on side. “Look at this guy,” I thought. “He is so little. Man, I want him to be funny.” Because it would’ve been too sad if he wasn’t.

And he was very funny. Armed with an accent neither I, nor he, could nail down (Canadian? English? Australian?), Druce proved he has confidence and swagger to spare, even if he does claim to be an introvert.

“I am happy when I am alone,” he said. “I’m not an introvert, I’m a solitude enthusiast.”

This guy has some sharp, clever jokes, and he knows how to work a room. His audience interaction, though not planned, showcases his pure, sparkling wit. The banter he produces in toying with the crowd is marvellous. He claims to want to be the Shakespeare of wank jokes, but in reality he is far better than that – a class act that will grow into an Australian/Canadian/English star.

In his 2012 MICF show Still Life, Paul Foot artfully deconstructs the comedy show format. A long, drawn-out description here would only do you, and him, a disservice. This show is hilarious, and Foot is an unhinged genius – the Charlie Kaufman of the Comedy Festival.

The show begins, as they all do, with an offstage announcement, and that is where the similarity to other shows ends. In Foot’s capable hands, even this simple function becomes so much more. Staggering and sweating, he picks apart a stand-up show piece by piece. He portrays a man who should never have been given a microphone, all arrogance and self-doubt about putting on the best show he can. It doesn’t seem like it should be working, but that’s his trick: being smart and sharper than most comics. So assured is his comedy that even the jokes that seem like pointless journeys through absurdity converge to become part of the bigger picture.

The less you know about this show, the better the surprise. Just understand that Paul Foot knows what he is doing – first class comedy from a certifiable mind. Go see this show!

Delayed takes the form of a confessional, charting her decision to move to London and leaving her boyfriend behind. She is not looking to find herself, she needs some room to lose herself so she can start herself over. Or so she says. With her freewheeling, cheeky, whip smart brand of comedy, I hope that she never changes a thing. Knowing smiles and raised eyebrows punctuate her tales, and her take on toilet paper rationing is worth the ticket price alone. But it’s her physical comedy that truly surprises, she is amazingly gifted with movement, just wait for her dead-arm dance moves and try to copy, a joy to behold! Celia Pacquola effortlessly delivers (high) five-star comedy that won’t leave you hanging. Don’t wait any longer, this show is already the hard to find ticket of the festival. You have been warned.

Matadoor is a theatrical attempt to stare down the bull that is Australian racism. Racists themselves are not the target, as Asher has rightly figured out they are quite unlikely to come to his show, and if they did would punch him in the face about five minutes in. No, he is addressing what to do when you are confronted with, or are implicit in, someone else’s racism. And cock jokes. Well not addressing cock jokes, making them. Clad in tight black pants that highlight all that is a man, Asher deconstructs his own show down to the mantra, “Socially responsible comedy. . . and cock jokes.”

He really is a gifted physical performer and the owner of a very clever comic mind,  setting himself up with some great gags: from girls learning to walk in high heels, to rabid racist sheep and all things in between. It is a well-staged affair, with thoughtful lighting and musical cues that draw the audience into Asher’s rants and stories.

If being racist to racists is wrong then Asher will never be right. But he will be damn funny.

The show, Pundamonium, does what is says – puns and plenty of them. It is a groan-inducing form of humour at the best of times, yet Webb has done his homework. The first pun produces an expected groan from the audience; Webb, however, rapidly follows with five more which seems to moisten the crowd’s laughter glands.

It is quite a skill. An energetic showman, he works the room chatting away with the audience, seeking out pun-worthy topics where he can find them and he can find them anywhere. Wisely, he knows not to push it for the full hour, switching to some tried and true pub and footy club-style material about fatherhood and childbirth. This was a welcome change of pace.

The rapidity of Webb’s delivery is brilliant. If one joke fell flat then the next was right behind. It comes as no surprise that he holds the world record for the longest ever comedy set – an impressive 38 hours. If you like a pun, you’ll love Webb.

The cheap-arse Tuesday audience couldn’t be more primed to she her and rightly so, like many international artists who make the trip out here, she knows what she is doing, delivering great gags and confident delivery. She also seems to have what can only be described as a rabid fan base, but it could just be that Smith is very funny.

Starting out with some local material, she plays a ukulele song (“I play a little guitar,” probably the worst joke of the set and still funny enough) about that great Aussie phrase “no worries.” Putting this effort in sends out a wonderful signal to the audience that Smith has put effort into crafting a show which will work for her Melbourne audience.

Smith romps through some great material on time travel, relating to toddlers (she hates ‘em) and celebrity adoption (“should white people buying black babies be applauded? It doesn’t sound right, does it?”) She has the confidence and skill to hold the audience in the palm of her hand, setting aside six and a half minutes of hilarity for banter and never missing a beat, chatting with a large, spikey-haired person in a hoody (“Sir? You can never tell with my audience”). Satirical, caustic and a little bit facetious, expect Smith to be playing much bigger rooms next time she comes to Melbourne.

This is because he is a first class, top notch, professional comedian. He has the confidence and skill to kill a room, to tell what may just be a joke on the surface, then poke and prod from different angles to expose fresh jokes like page after page of unfolding origami.

Strolling onstage like a genial gentleman, Tompkins presents as an affable, previously wealthy, eccentric uncle in a handsome pinstriped suit offset by a mess of wavy hair and a bushy moustache.  He doesn’t simply throw around gags- he weaves jokes from his stories, using both their situations and simple turns of phrase or absurdity to construct them.

“And if you’re not careful you might learn a little something,” he opens the show.

“So do please be careful.”

It seems a gentle joke but he keeps them coming without a wasted sentence, every word and gesture honed to perfection. The show is as the title suggests – Tompkins’ life’s work. Not an opus, Mr Holland-style, just the work Tompkins has done. From the degrading and menial – a shop assistant at Hats In The Belfry (this section alone makes the show worth seeing) – through to the undeniable glamour of acting opposite Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood, all that is driving Tompkins is the desire to avoid his greatest fear – being yelled at.

There is a danger for a show like this to become a bit too “name-drop heavy,” but delivery and ability alone see Tompkins free and clear. An hilarious show and a consummate comedian, I can’t make you go and see it but I will pity you if you don’t.

Hall is American and apologising for most all their wrongs in a most unapologetic manner. American stupidity and American politics receive the shotgun to the face that is Hall’s delivery. Sarah Palin is particulary served, best described as “Satan’s Tupperware hostess.”

It was always going to be interesting to see who was the first comedian to try and get away with Japan and/or radiation jokes at this year’s festival and Rich skates one by with a risky bit about Mothra’s return.

On the Sunday show I caught he seemed to still be suffering from jetlag, fuzzing around a punch line here and there and demonstrating some very sloppy maths, but this was more than made up for with some of the most eclectic audience interaction I have ever experienced; a Herald Sun editor and cast members from River Dance might have overpowered an unsure comedian, but Hall held sway.

Later, when one of those unhinged types that tend to pipe up at comedy shows kept yelling towards stage, I never had a doubt Hall would reign it in, pausing only to keep squeezing in more jokes.

Mixing scripted bits, off topic ramblings and some tried and true Otis Lee Crenshaw (Hall’s country singin’ ex-con alter ego) classics, the gig all-too-quickly flew by. A pro without doubt, Hall is a sure bet.

A typical Melbourne audience, we are a tough and cold bunch, arms crossed and our  “make us laugh, funny lady” expectations clearly displayed on our faces. Ward has wisely catered for this in her show, and opens with some very cheap audience participation. It’s quite funny and more importantly does the job, relaxing and bonding the audience in preparation for the rest of the show. Which is Ward simply chatting about this and that: embarrassing things she has done, puns she collects and her unfettered love of junkies.

Having come to stand-up from a background of comic acting just three years ago, Ward displays an outstanding physical presence on stage and is a gifted mimic. Her “junkie lips” are worth the ticket price alone. And thankfully she has a wit to match and an almost heartbreaking penchant for self-deprecation.

For a casual ramble, it is a thoughtfully constructed show, and Ward sells it for all she is worth, her vigour and enthusiasm helping to propel even the few weaker jokes to laughs. There are the clean and fun puns, as well as the less family friendly, passing references to incest, and something best only known as “the silent duck”.

A show for all and a talent to watch, Ward honestly will be a highlight of the Festival.

Their brand of musical comedy falls somewhere between Tenacious D and Flight Of The Conchords by way of Family Guy. If you struggled to keep up with all those off-topic pop culture references, you won’t be able to handle the show. But if you are still with me, you will be on board with the boys.

The show flows along as easily as the banter between David and Jones; they are a comfortable pair and the audience was quick to warm to their geniality. The never seen “Captain Entrée” serves as merely a catalyst to ramble across random topics and references, and they manage to forever taint my favourite Lyle Lovett song whilst keeping me laughing.

Affable and engaging, Smart Casual really have something different to offer than the usual festival fair. Well worth adding to your list of shows.

Opening his show with some timely and well-observed topical jokes from the day’s headlines, Rozenbachs spends the following ten minutes showing off his improvisational comedy chops by chatting to the audience. He is an outstanding ad-libber, rapidly retorting with jokes for the various professions of crowd members. I must commend the professions of carpenter and electrician for being great sports and always sitting in the front rows at comedy gigs. Rozenbachs is cunning and quick in his banter, which in return provided some of the biggest laughs of the night.

Moving into the scripted section, Rozenbachs covered the usual topics: phone surveys, relationships, breaking up and so on, with much aplomb. His line on judging a friend by their opinion of Two and a Half Men is a new favourite of mine. Back onto the theme, reasons why he is single, Rozenbachs’ material was never groundbreaking, but damn funny all the same. Adroit and quick with a quip, Rozenbachs is a perfect example of an archetypal stand-up comedian. An uncomplicated show with guaranteed laughs, Singledumb is a lot smarter than Rozenbachs pretends to be.

Brennan is a solid gold, professional comedian, right down to the suit he takes to the stage in. Assuming the roll of an ill-informed American tourist to the hilt, “Do you guys have cows?”, he provided an unrelenting assault of jokes and observations. Aiming to offend in the most likable way, Brennan worked his way through local references before moving to a regular set of race and affront. Mercilessly bantering with the audience he offered some very sage advice, “Don’t sit in the front row if you can’t take a punch.” Every line from Brennan’s mouth resulted in laughter, demonstrating a pedigree of comedy performance honed across the American late night talk-show circuit and a stint writing for Saturday Night Live. Brennan provided an absolutely perfect set of American, deadpan arrogance and knife-edge wit.

Upcoming international acts at The Festival Club will include Al Madrigal (14 to 19 April) a rising star of American comedy and Bo Burnham (21 to 26 April). Or just turn up for the ever-changing late-night roster of comics dedicated to making you laugh.

Moore is an extremely likeable, engaging performer; onstage he operates effortlessly without a microphone. Opening the show with self-deprecating style at the expense of the tiny Carpet Room at the Forum Theatre, Moore is then joined on stage by his accompanist, singer-songwriter Emma Heeney, who provides the soundtrack to Moore’s life story. The resulting show – Moore chronicling his life’s course and Heeney’s delicate voice singing sweet acoustic songs – feels like a stand-up version of an independent drama/comedy flick. Think Garden State with Heeney in the ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ role.

It is a show of entertainment more than hilarity, with honest and sincere storytelling. Moore comes off as friendly and approachable while Heeney is lovely to listen to. Their two parts sit well together, and while their content does not strongly relate to each other, it effectively sets the mood for the show. Tale of Two Cities verges on confessional comedy cabaret and as such is a refreshing change of pace in the approach taken to a festival show.

The Audacity of Frank has been scripted and directed to within an inch of its life, leaving a finely tuned machine of laughter. Such analytical precision has left little room for improvisation, which is a huge shame as Pickering excels while ad-libbing. These issues wouldn’t have been noticeable had he not opened the show with outstanding audience interaction, deftly riffing with members of the front row. Audiences like to feel the show they are watching is unique, and in this respect Pickering should allow himself more room to digress in search of these special moments.

Once into the scripted material though, the show really does set a cracking pace. Jumping from topic to topic, Pickering has become edgier with his material and it pays off. Allowing the subject matter to wander off like into tangents, unconstrained by the requisite comedy festival ‘theme’ has freed the show, and Pickering himself, to explore other facets of his comic potential.

Pickering is a very gifted storyteller, assured in his talents, and he never falters in his constant delivery of jokes. Rarely was there a gag that missed its mark. Every year his show is a sell-out, so if you can lay your hands on tickets do go, you won’t regret it.

Alter ego of New Zealander Jesse Griffin, who has shone at past MICFs as one third of the Four Noels, Wilson Dixon Rides Again is a joy from start to finish. What makes the character of Dixon so funny is that he’s not written with any condescension ­– he’s a real flesh-and-blood character, not just a simple caricature.

One would expect a New Zealander (or an Australian for that matter) to tmake all sorts of cheap-shot redneck and dumb American jokes, but thankfully Griffin is much smarter than that. Instead he’s set up a much shrewder show structure, giving Dixon time to win over the audience with a barrage of sharp local references before launching into his first song, a three and a half minute ditty of unrelenting one-liners called ‘Life’. From there we were treated to Dixon’s journey of self-discovery ­– absurd adventures in search of life’s meaning while on a epic hunt for ‘The Man with No Name’.

Much comparison will be made with Flight of the Conchords, as both acts are folk-singing Kiwis. But this show is all about character comedy and is all the better for it. Droll, witty and musically and verbally literate, Griffin’s star is on the rise. Go and see this show while you can.

First on was Mick Davies, a self-assured lad with a tight set of observational jokes. John ‘Cambo’ Campbell followed and was the standout performer, a case study in straight-faced, deadpan one-liners. Matt Burton was the storyteller of the evening and his enthusiastic routine built to a warm and rewarding conclusion.

Luke McGregor was last on and he really was an interesting comedian. Working a nervous shtick as his onstage persona, his material was fresh and original. He took offbeat or under-examined ideas all the way through to his own logically twisted conclusion – what would it be like if make-up were a new invention?

There is a lot of promise in these four boys. They had good solid gags, and plenty of swagger on stage. Tasmania will have a lot more to be proud of than Boag’s beer and David Boon if they fulfil their comic potential.

Taking pointers on what it takes to be an adult from a seven year-old girl, Earl has hashed out an ideal framework to hang his show on. Diverging down various tangents such as marriage, driving or property leaves him plenty of room to fit in his eclectic material and songs. Earl’s style of comedy sits somewhere between a Lucksmith’s song and Demetri Martin, right down to the collected comedy graphs and Northcote references. I do not say this as a bad thing, as he does it very, very well.

Earl appears to be all haircut, tight black jeans and a ‘please love me’ smile, but lurking underneath is a deceptively clever performer. I loved this show, full of witty songs, sly pop culture references and just plain funny jokes. From correcting punks on the grammar printed on their clothing to telling his old high school’s graduating class they are lucky to have not lived in the dark days of researching reports on Encarta, he is razor sharp. Earl is a brainy comedian who’s not afraid to throw in a crass joke when his material is getting too clever. If this is the show of a man-child’s brain, I can only hope he never grows up.

Narrated by Callinan, who spends the night both literally and figuratively steeping over the fourth wall to talk to the audience, The Dave Berry Story sets its sights at being a stand-up version of a Charlie Kaufman script. Standing on stage, in character, and deliberately telling abysmal jokes is an absolute tightrope walk to pull off, and for the most part it works. The scene of Raw Comedy heat contestants hosted by Callinan, as himself, and also played by him is brutally hilarious in its portrayal of wannabe comedians. The meta-fest continues throughout the show with Callinan, in character, complaining about stand-up character performers: ‘If you can’t tell a joke as yourself, why even try?’

Callinan sells the blank-face awfulness of his comic creation perfectly, but is wise enough to include sections of his own stand-up while addressing the audience to ensure genuine laughs and break up the cringe-worthy, awkward laughs generated by Berry. It’s an interesting and funny show, dark with plenty of laughs, and a welcome change of pace for a festival full of stand-up.

The result of his uprooting is that a lot of his material is that of an outsider looking in; observations of quirky traits and behaviour that has helped make that age-old stereotype of The Irish. In this case, it works – Bishop’s fresh eyes are able to cut straight to the home truths of Ireland. What sits uneasy is his American side, bringing out his earnest belief in expressing emotions.

Much of the show is set around the comedy of the confessional and his dysfunctions (hence the show’s name) but at times it veers to the solemn and sober. Preaching is not for everyone at a comedy show, though these themes do also radiate with tremendously positive intent. Bishop hits his stride with his regular material, his nuggets about Irish backpackers travelling around Australia and the requisite local references. He is a consummate professional in this regard, working the crowd and ultimately owning the large room. Bishop provides plenty of laughs and plenty of jokes you will try and fail to retell to your friends.

The women are engaging and vibrant performers, bouncing lines and looks off each other, but are let down at times by their lack of confidence in the material. Chish had a tendency to mumble through punchlines she felt weren’t going to get a laugh, and as a result they didn’t. But overall she was in control of her material and role as mischief-maker to Flanagan’s lecturer. Chish has twice been a semi-finalist in Raw Comedy and it does show. She has self-assurance on stage and appears as a grinning, naughty Puck of fashion. Flanagan has taken the slightly thankless role of straight woman, but spices it up with a highly entertaining assortment of accents. Much like the fashions it makes fun of A Stitch in Time also has its highlights and lowlights. Some dropped lines between the girls were disappointing, but by the end of their previews when the kinks are worked out, this could be a great local act to catch.

Working twin narratives of living a full life and winning back his girl, Bushell spins tales of travel and lost ardour. He laments his lot to a Spanish mountain and gambles the fate of his love on a game show, intertwining jokes and voyages of fantasy into his stories with confidence and ease. As a performer, Bushell takes to the spotlight with joy, at home with the mic in his hand he seems to inhale adrenalin and exhale jokes. No props, no high concept set-up, no help from the A.V. department, just a man and a microphone making the crowd laugh. More local comics should be like this.

Demonstrating belief in his material and assurance of delivery, Bushell sets the audience at ease from the get go, which in turn enables the audience to give themselves over to the comedian, no matter where his flights may takes them. Bold, frenetic and hilarious, Dave Bushell is a must see of the Comedy@Trades lineup this year.

Tales of Richard’s father serve as a jumping off point for digressions and asides, taking the audience from the trenches of World War One to back stage at a U2 concert and in search of buried treasure. It is a warm-hearted journey, much like pushing the chairs back after Christmas lunch and working though the family story highlight reel.

It is much to Richards credit that this premise even works, we all have stories about how mad and stupid our families are, why pay to hear someone else’s? Because of Richard; his stage presence is magnetic, a real, personable charisma, like a dodgy black sheep uncle telling you what your dad used to be like. His performance is filled with light and shade, a rare find in a stand-up comic. When the material calls for emotion, he has it in spades, the wounds still appear fresh, even if he just building to the next laugh. A Sting in the Tale displays with a bite but leaves you wanting to call your dad and ask what he did today.

The nature of the setup, comics telling stories along a set theme is its strongest selling point, much credit to the clubs creator, Sarah Bennetto. Because of the themes, comics are forced to create new material rather than just recycle parts of their current shows. As a result you get the flavour and style of every performer without running the risk of having to sit through it again at their own show.

Opening night was Spooky Stories with host and narrator Sarah Bennetto introducing such friends as Josie Long, James Dowdeswell, Danny McGinlay, Maeve Higgins and Alison Bice. London based Bennetto has managed to rope in a lot of her UK friends, making this is a great way to see a lot of international comics cheaply. James Dowdeswell made school shootings an outing of laughs, Maeve Higgins found gags no matter how off the topic she veered and Josie Long, lovely as ever, shined with tales of her own night terrors. On every Friday night of the festival, Storytellers’ Club is a perfect primer for the comedy fan. Upcoming shows include:

Trave and Adventure with Brendon Burns, Yianni Agisilaou, Josh Earl and Dave Bushell. 10th April.

Family and Childhood tales with Sarah Millican (UK), Richard McKenzie, James Dowdeswell (UK), Courteney Hocking and Tommy Dassalo 17th April.

Love Stories with Josie Long (UK), Lawrence Leung, Geraldine Hickey and Louise Sanz 24th April.