The small room at the Tuxedo Cat is packed. Even allowing for a few of Warneke’s friends, roped in for media night, it’s an impressive turn-out. The crowd are not disappointed. The laugh count in this show is up there with some of the big name acts. Warnake is funny; proper laugh-out-loud funny.

In the intro he explains that Fact! will appeal to ‘ethnic hipsters’, ‘people who like cooking but not eating food’ and ‘people from the future’. There is a Dave Warneke for everyone, as demonstrated by the several life-sized cut-outs which adorn the stage.

As the title suggests, audiences will come away from Fact! with brand-new insights into life. On weekdays Warneke moonlights as a pub trivia host and it is his love for the absurd statistics of life which inspired this show. There’s something oddly nice about learning from comedy.

The highlight is a comment on festival shows using out-of-context grabs from reviews in promotion. To demonstrate his point Warneke proceeds to take funeral notices and the book of Genesis out of context, to hilarious effect.

Despite being only 21, this is Warneke’s third festival and it shows. This is polished and refined comedy. It’s not perfect but it is pretty damn good.

Dave Warnake is definitely one to watch.

The more-than-able host of the night was Patrick Duffy, a New Zealand improv veteran- who engaged and entertained the gathered audience with skill which only comes from years of experience.

The  four teams of 3-4 performers, challenged one another to theatre sport classics such as word-at-a-time stories, subtitles and death in a minute. Many of the highlights came in the form of song, such as an ambitious opera about charging a phone and a Star Wars rap performed by Yoda.

As is always the case with improvisation, there are hits and misses. Most of the misses came with the shorter games, where the time restrictions limited story development or finding the critical punchline to the skit. The opening round restricted players to 2 minute challenges, then following on to 1 and  3 minute challenges. Every time the bell was rung to indicate the halfway point the actors seemed to lose concentration, as they were made aware of the time ticking away. The second half of the show improved dramatically. The longer time allowed the actors a chance to pull off some more formidable performances.

As this was a one off event, audiences will have to wait until 2013 to see this again. A great night of clean comedy fun for the whole family.

When I met him in the street – he sells every ticket by hand – Jones came across as an eager, smiling comedian; just one among hundreds trying to spruik his brand of comedy to passers-by.

Under the spotlight, however, Jones morphed from polite comedian to grinning, devilish presenter of remarkable social media comments. Not his own comments, mind – the audience’s.

The friendly rapport Jones built with his audience (a result of the pleasant face-to-face ticketing) turned wicked in an instant. Past tweets and status updates from unwitting audience members were projected onto a cinema screen and then openly discussed, much to the horror or squirming delight of the subjects in question.

I was considerably relieved I don’t have Facebook or Twitter accounts.

Even more alarming was Jones’s gleeful introduction of a ‘Comedians vs Critics’ segment, adding that, “It’s gonna be fun. Or at least a thing.” All I can say is this: if you’re a critic or reviewer, don’t wear your favourite shirt to a Sanderson Jones show – you may quite literally end up with cream pie on your face.

Some sections of the show, as Jones suggested us critics write, were “seamless as fuck”. Then again, some elements were about as logical as Andrew Bolt. Jones revelled in pushing the boundaries – not quite to their limits, but close enough. His obsession with Venn diagrams and live Chatroulette, mixed with a penchant for the absurd, made for an interesting, albeit confusing, performance.

I’m still not sure whether Jones’s show was ‘fun’ or ‘a thing’. Either way, it was memorable.

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Like a darkly comic Robert Anton Wilson, Hughes fired his first verbal salvo at New Zealand, asking if it was “even real” (a loud cry of “yisss!” from the audience followed). Then he had Australiain his sights, eliciting restrained guffaws from most.

The crowd was in stitches as he satirised the grim realities of working, globalization and capitalism, with more than a fleck of truth landing in our eyes and ears.

The laugh riot continued with fleet-tongued Hughes rattling off invective-laden leaps of dangerously rational thought in his casual, observational style.

Even funnier were his incongruous comparisons of bolted-down windows and the tyranny of language as a method of social control, among other examples of modern life encroaching on our basic freedoms. Sputtering rants about declining masculinity evident in paralysing coffee choices, the superfluous nature of naming comedy shows and “simplified” Buddhism saw the show extended beyond its one hour time limit, our “convict wizard talking about the apocalypse” for a further half hour.

Although I caught his final festival show in Melbourne, he’ll be in Sydney for their comedy festival. The added premium of the fare up there will prove more than worth it.

As a trio comedy act, AoA have their onstage  interactions down pat, casually trading insults and beautifully harmonising. They are musically tight and their song craftsmanship is a delight, with an early highlight of the set being the impeccable generic blandness of their tribute to boy band love songs.

Other highlights tackle the holy trinity, advertising props, the language of love (and its translation issues), elderly home invaders and vehicular subwoofers. They even work in a keytar and a spoiler alert for the movie “Die Hard”. As they gleefully point out midway, they get to claim the coolest things on their tax returns.

Naturally the set includes their greatest hit, “Four Chords”. Changed up a little in order to keep it fresh for everybody, the song simultaneously rounds out and sums up AoA’s set perfectly.

A lot of hard work must go into making this stadium rock extravaganza of the imagination look so easy. Axis Of Awesome are Lollapalooza on six legs.

With audience participation well and truly encouraged, Two Champagnes From Happiness is guaranteed to be a different experience every night. Helped along by oversized flash cards that guide the topics of discussion, Sims calls for opinions on everything from frugality, the suburbs and good manners, to dress sense and neuroses (both grammatical and otherwise).

It’s a brave comic who actually wants the audience to shout out comments during a set. It can lead to dead moment when no one has the moxie to speak up. Luckily Sims has enough stories and gripes to take over when we don’t feel like sharing, her self-confessed bitterness going well with her laconic delivery.

In the wake of recent newspaper articles regarding the amount of swearing happening at this year’s Festival shows, Sims would like to correct a recent reviewer who deemed her show “nice because she doesn’t swear”. Sims can and does swear, she wants us to know, but merely “chooses not to”. She would also like us to know that she is tall, blonde and is a fantastically well adjusted individual.

Leisl: Well it’s been a year since we saw you last… what have guys been doing since?

Mark: We’ve been back to Edinburgh, toured the UK and Ireland, and most recently ran for two months on London’s West End! Also working on a film project with some great folks as well as some TV stuff.

Leisl: You’re only out here for a week’s run this festival. What, did we offend you?

Shenoah: Too much delicious coffee! We don’t want to be around so long that we start taking that kind of thing for granted.

Leisl: I saw the show last year, it was awesome, but why should I see it again?

The Boys: First of all, thanks! Glad you liked it. Second of all, yes, it is the same show, but much more refined. I’d go so far as to say “better”. We are constantly developing our shows while we tour them, if we don’t change it up we’d go crazy. How about this: if you saw the show last year and DIDN’T like it, come again and see if we can change your mind. If you saw it and DID like it, come back and see if we can change your mind.

Leisl: What does the rest of the year hold for you?

Shenoah: Touring the US, Doing improv in Edinburgh, loving our ladies and trying to sell a fucking TV show.

Leisl: What’s your favourite/least favourite thing about working with each other?

Mark: Shenoah is so freakin’ funny I really have to push myself to keep up. It’s kind of my favorite and least favorite thing.  Favorite because he makes me better, least favorite because he makes work for it!

Leisl: Where can we buy pyjamas like yours?

Shenoah: Email us and will sell you our used ones at a nice price.

Leisl: I missed out on getting a DVD last year, will you be selling them again?

The Boys: Yes!!

Leisl: And finally a random question for fun…. If you could stage a flash mob somewhere where would it be and what would you do?

Shenoah: I would love choreograph a giant cuckoo clock out of the windows of a huge project housing building in New York. But then, I’m not quite sure what a flash mob is.

In The Middle of No One is here for five shows only and ends on the 21st. Make sure you see this amazing act while they’re here!

There is nothing about McGinlay to dislike. He seems to take as much delight in appearing to be the fool as the audience does in him telling us about it. His grins are infectious, and he revels in the laughter as much as we do.

A minute into the show, the audience is at ease as McGinlay describes his first foray into a foreign language, when he fudges speaking Arabaic in an audition.

He takes us alongside his relationship, from meeting the girl across the road to winning over the formidable matriarch “Bubba”, all whilst trying to learn a language with an inexplicable alphabet and no swear words.

Having performed stand up since he was sixteen, McGinlay’s skill and confidence is apparent. His jokes are quick and slick as they rain down on the audience, with the exception being a glorious and indulgent tangent about Osama bin Laden.

This is one of the better local acts of the festival, and there is a reason McGinlay keeps cropping up on TV and around the local comedy haunts. If you take an interest in home grown comedy and where it’s heading, keep your eye on this guy.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Chong’s show cleverly weaves his own stories, one-liners, and acting skills with seamless audience involvement for the ultimate maternal insult. His two most important women – his fiancee and, of course, his mum – form the basis for most of his jokes, but it’s obvious that these relationships are so strong he can good-naturedly rag them out without coming across as arrogant.

He’s confident and polished, and while playing on a few standard topic such as parents and relationships, the half-Singaporean Chong often pulls out the race card. It’s somewhat shocking at the start, but his self-deprecating attitude (again, not arrogant in the slightest) results in the squirmish laughter that you see with audiences of Louis CK and David Cross. One crowd member laughed incredibly loudly at one race joke, and while Chong was momentarily thrown at the sudden outburst, quick as a flash he came back with, “Glad you liked it, but I think that says more about you than me.”

Flipping perfect.

The award-winning Melbourne-based duo (winners of the Melbourne Cabaret Festival Award in 2009 and nominees for Best Cabaret at the Adelaide Fringe in 2010) keep the show moving at a cracking pace  from the get-go. Mager & Smythe work well as a team. Both have impressive musical skills, excellent taste in instruments (mandolins are definitely underrated), and their comedic timing couldn’t be better.

Their character transitions are spot-on and banter between the two, as well as audience engagement, is relaxed and witty. Forget that this was the first night; the end result was polished and seamless and they exhibited none of the shakiness that opening night jitters can sometimes produce.

The simple plot provides a solid base for Mager & Smythe’s original songs, which vary from rock opera to gentle folk. I’m normally not one for cabaret but In Search of Atlantis kept me enthralled. If you have even the slightest inclination towards musical comedy, Mager & Smythe will keep you entertained for a boisterous hour of rhapsodic and rhythmic delights.

Note: Tuxedo Cat is not located in the basement of 355 Flinders Lane, as the Tuxedo Cat website incorrectly states. It’s on level 3 of 277 Flinders Lane. It’s not far away, but make sure you get to the correct venue to see these guys.

Like a paean to the miserable with added laugh track, Glazebrook sharply took us through her unhealthy adolescent obsession with Taylor Hanson, slipping in and out of accents like an unwound Maria Bamford, thoroughly convinced their gilded marriage would come true. She riffed on lies parents tell us (with Dad in the audience taking no umbrage), thrust fresh parries at religion (with vegetarianism of all things!) and even linked Play School to problem gambling. For me, the unfulfilled desire to become a saxophonist and make “crying faces” during sexy or serious songs was particularly memorable.

She performed with an earnest self-deprecating style that featured up-to-the-minute references and cheeky running jokes. One of her more uncertain moments was a sight gag featuring her plus-size modelling in Cosmopolitan magazine. Though the bit bombed, she recovered quickly to uproarious laughter.

Although her show didn’t have a touchy-feely silver lining (more like a slick, American faux-inspirational crescendo), it was more than entertaining. Despite minor drawbacks, More Than This is a fine little show that fans of observational and confessional stand-up will more than revel in.

The recent death of her ‘cool uncle’ has left Tracey facing her own mortality. More importantly, the mess her dodgy family made of her uncle’s funeral has left Tracey determined to plan her own funeral. Prepared for the time when she will die (in a bizarre dishwasher accident, no less), she goes on to discuss the benefits of cremation, being reborn as a box of pencils and how a wake should resemble a children’s party.

This is a terrific show, occasionally moving but mostly jaw-achingly hilarious. Cosgrove’s recovering-bogan drawl makes everything  immediately funny, but get past the voice and there’s real depth and cleverness to her material. She’s very good at controlling the pace and flow of her show, as well as delivering quick downward twists that throw upbeat ideas into sharp relief. A small amount of audience interaction keeps things lively. The only weak point is the section at the very end, which starts as an amazing twist but overstays its welcome.

I’d never heard of Cosgrove before seeing this show, but now she’s gone straight to my must-see list for the next festival. But don’t wait that long – go see Half a Wake now. It would be tragic if you died before you saw it.

Dealing with what looks like a mid-life crisis at 31, Boston Smith naturally goes through her list of faux pas in her life, introducing us to her affectionately boisterous family and friends. All the life-changing highs and lows are hysterically retold and embellished in the most fabulously eloquent manner. If you’ve been to her previous shows, her nemesis Kitty Bang makes a grand appearance, although not in quite the same capacity as you might remember her.

Boston Smith is mesmerising to watch. Her thick tangle of wild hair and large eyes are paired with a distractingly shiny, skin-tight, high-waisted jeans. She is a natural story teller and improviser. Her colourful use of words is a delight to the ears. She weaves modest anecdotes into hilarious parables.

Friend & Foe will have you giggling along to all of Boston Smith’s relatable stories. There will be some skillful, dorky dancing and mentions of crotchless panties. Just sit back and enjoy this brilliant show.

This is history like you wish they’d taught it at high school. Charlie Ranger and Nicholas Waxman have done the research and tell the story of the disastrous south/north continental expedition with great gusto. The amazing facts come out while the terrifying ineptitude of most concerned is exposed and ridiculed.

The two men play multiple parts, switching at the end of a sentence from one (sometimes quite dubious) accent to another. I loved the pantomime moment when ‘Burke,’ who is momentarily playing someone else, tells his off-sider (who is never ‘Burke’) to “Bring me Burke!”

The silence and double-take are comedy gold as the audience gradually realise it can’t be done. ‘Burke’ is already there, but he ain’t ‘Burke’ at that moment.

‘I can get you King, I can get you Becker; I can’t get you Burke,’ says the off-sider.

The script is brilliant, the constantly changing vignettes are seamless, the characters are excellent, some of the accents are almost believable and the camels keep talking as they masticate. And, in a Comedy Festival first, no four letter words were deemed necessary to the making of an hour of intelligent humour.

Relative newcomers, Ranger and Waxman are a great addition to the comedy scene with a tale and presentation unlike anything else in the Festival. The future is very bright for this duo even if our heroes of the past, as they portray them, are anything but!

Given it’s their first show at the Comedy Festival, Dil Ruk, Suren Jayemanne, Tim Clark and Morven Smith have made a wise choice in testing the water with segments of their best material rather than each having a full-length show.

Each comedian is well-meaning and likeable with loads of energy, and it’s clear they all love what they do. They cover relatable topics such as dealing with annoyingly-successful friends, losing weight, and growing up with religious backgrounds. However, the endless string of racial and sexual references coupled with cheap puns got tiring. It seemed like the jokes were reliant on ‘taboo’ subjects and hopes that shock value would carry them through.

There were a few too many groans from the audience and several shuffled around awkwardly in their seats. It didn’t seem as if the crowd were offended, rather they appeared perplexed at how this was appropriate to discuss at length.

The most baffling aspect of the show was that when these jokes fall so obviously flat, the comedian would claim: “that joke usually gets that reaction”, which makes one wonder why they persist with the same material, rather than responding to their audience.

It’s not often you get pure stand-up at the Comedy Festival with no real theme to carry the show through. Problem is, the acts lacked structure and came across as a string of awkwardly put-together jokes. Not that they don’t have potential – individually they do okay, but as a whole the show is somewhat underwhelming.

It all started in high school and now he’s invited to his ten year reunion. Should he return and face his demons; the boys who made his life a nightmare and the girls he lusted for but never dared approach?

He tells stories of his humiliations, and he certainly has some horrendous tales to tell. He was disarmingly honest and some of the reminiscences are so sad, so pathetic in the true sense of the word, that rather than laugh I just felt sorry for the kid he used to be.

He had buck teeth, glasses and some cruel nicknames back then and was so low in the schoolyard pecking order that he was bullied by the bullied. He nearly took his fingers off perving and fantasising during woodwork and his only school romance – a promising affair with an internet girlfriend – took a shattering turn for the worse. His bonding with Dad came to a bad end and it’s taken him a long time to get over it all.

So, is he ready for the reunion or not? Can he return to the corridors of hell, punch his nemesis on the nose and ride off with sweet Kathy?

Trot along to the Fad Gallery and find out. It’s one of the more exotic venues and Man Up! keeps you guessing. You’ll laugh at his chirpier lines and feel for him during the bleaker ones, but life’s on the way up now – just like Walker’s comedy career.

This Is Siberian Husky are one of the recipients of Moosehead in 2012. They fulfil the criteria of being mental. Boneshaker is a self-described sketch comedy show with a stiff structure providing a madly jagged ride. In what could be the most accurate description in the festival’s program, Dan Allemann and Simon Godfrey invite their audiences to join them on an unsettling trip of the absurd and ridiculously battered.

Boneshaker comprises half a dozen loose narratives that repeatedly run parallel to, and intersect with each other. Sounds impossible? That might be why I came away from the show exhausted and confused.

The performers give everything they have, both physically and vocally, which often results in the show feeling a bit aggressive and loud. Using only two wooden boxes as props and without costume changes, Alleman and Godfrey play a series of fantastical characters of both genders. Scene and character changes are depicted rapidly and subtly by the change of lighting, a sound effect or a quick change of posturing.

The Pyjama Men have famously wowed audiences with a similar manic, multi-storied style of sketch comedy – but they are also brilliantly funny. This Is Siberian Husky are absurd and obscure, producing only occasional, gentle laughter.

Alleman and Godfrey voice a rapid-fire and verbose dialogue, their physicality equal to an aerobic workout class. I wanted to laugh with the same frantic energy as the performance. I didn’t.

From the outset, Dewberry tells us he’s not religious, not homophobic, and not vegetarian. Sometimes, his jokes feel more like a lecture than a comedy routine, and on occasion, he loses his place and grapples to get back on track. While some of his jokes were a little transparent in their impending punchlines, there was the occasional flash of comedy greatness, catching the audience off-guard.

The venue, the upstairs room of the Irish Times, also houses the kitchen. While there are a few shows playing there during the festival, Dewberry’s has an unfortunate timeslot which includes the kitchen closing. It’s not a slight on Dewberry – it’s not his choice – but the sounds of the kitchen blaring away and general crockery clatter is distracting to those in the back half of the room. If you go, be sure to sit somewhere near the front.

Dewberry is relatively new to the comedy scene, so keeping that in mind, this was an admirable show. Like wine, he will improve with age. Hopefully next year he gets a better set time or venue.

Cosgriff presents a polished show, maintaining her sweet smile and innocent tone throughout. Cosgriff uses her tunes with story-based lyric, along with spoken anecdotes to tell of her life as a struggling performance artist. The audience, more mature than you would see at a regular show during the Comedy Festival,  responded with polite titters and giggles.

Unfortunately, the laughs were rarely bigger than this. Some notable exceptions were Cosgriff’s deconstruction of a song in “The Song Song”, her song that uses Ikea as a metaphor for sex and her demonstration (with audience participation) of a child’s piano lesson.

For me, the show needed more material of this nature to comfortably fit in a Comedy Festival. It needs more laughs. As it is, despite being lovely, this show is more cabaret.

Housed in Chapel off Chapel in Prahan during a festival that is definitely focussed in the Melbourne CBD it is a risk to cross the Yarra. If you like cabaret, Waitressing… And Other Things I Do Well is worth the journey. The performance is quality entertainment, an uplifting and somewhat humourous night out. As the title suggests she does it well. Lovely.

Williams kicks off the show with her awkward biographical account of her upbringing in the poor parts of South Yarra and goes through her list of odd jobs and aspirations. The crowd lightly chuckled at her jokes, seemingly unappreciative of the comedic value of her anecdotes.

Voorhaar is vision to behold: his envious mane of glossy brown curls is matched with the delicate, British lilt in his voice. Lanky and oddly bendy, Voorhaar is self-deprecating with spot-on comedic timing. He delights us with his experiences in a long-distance relationship and how he really hates babies.

While Arbitrary Moniker is quite enjoyable, I was expecting Voorhaar and Williams to perform together and feed off each others’ quirks and quips. The show’s format is unusual and lacks direction. It seems arbitrary to force two very different stand-up shows into one. Both Voorhaar and Williams are funny in their own ways, but lack a connection with each other. They would fare better doing their own thing.

Bali’s tale of life as an illegal immigrant is honest, warm and touching. It’s clear he has put a lot on the line with this show, dredging up memories that he perhaps would wish to forget. That, in itself, should be applauded. As a storyteller, he is more than capable. It’s his skill as a comedian that leaves me in doubt.

The flaws are many: rushed delivery, weak punch lines, palpable nerves and a habit of laughing at his own jokes. The small crowd in the Town Hall’s Portico Room can rarely muster more than a chuckle, and Bali’s confidence begins to wane as the show goes on, often losing his place and pulling out of a joke before milking it for all its worth.

It’s a real shame, because when he slows down, breathes, and stretches a story out from start to finish, he looks much more comfortable. I listen entranced as Bali describes the moment seven ASIO officers surrounded his parents’ flat and he led his little sister to her bedroom so she wouldn’t see the inevitable confrontation. His family faced deportation and all hope appeared lost. Bali fights back tears on stage, visibly willing himself to pull it together and finish the set. Forget comedy, it is worth the price of admission to hear stories like this, told well, by someone who obviously cares.

There are other redeeming moments, and Bali’s thoughts on race are actually very thought-provoking. Every Australian is an outsider, he says, from the Anglo descendants of the First Fleet to the Aboriginal people who now feel like strangers in their own country. It makes Bali, who has always felt like an alien here, somehow more at home: there’s a solidarity in our common otherness. This is thoughtful stuff, it’s just a shame the gags themselves fail to deliver.

The show, however, is only $10.

Kicking off with a short film establishing motive and Feltz collecting evidence with a team of hapless police muppets, the action begins on stage at about a quarter past eleven, focus squarely locked on black piece of felt through which the muppets are brought to life.

Sister Ruth (a blue haired Cyclops bride of Christ) was the first of the quintet of ‘lookyloos’ (bystanders) to be questioned. Her voice was unconvincing and unfortunately at this point the production’s pace slowed considerably. Though Feltz was busy deducing the murderer, the only things under arrest were the laughs.

It was a comedy of manners when the sultry Roxy (looking like Guy Smiley in Marilyn Monroe drag) emerged, the firebrand muppet spoke exclusively in double entendre which grew tiresome swiftly. Couple that with Cole’s many tongue-ties, out-of-date cultural references and the plodding predictability of the entire affair, at about half past eleven the prospects of the production looked worryingly bleak considering the stuff-ups were funnier than the set material.

Tearing strips off Beryl the ‘care bear’ (mostly a vehicle for an overwrought pun) and superintendent Harry dragged on. The highlight was definitely Charlie, the half-monster. His explosions into fits of anxiety and manic gyrations easily made him the most entertaining muppet on offer. For a first try, this production was competently put together but as the clock heralded the new day, I was just wishing for an ending – which we got quite unsatisfyingly about another quarter of an hour later.

If they dispensed with the self-indulgent winks at their crew and cut the pointless yammering this would’ve been a solid noir ‘who-dunnit’ parody. Better luck next time.

Unfortunately proceedings got off to a shaky start. Music cut in and out before someone yelled “the show is starting now.”  This kind of low budget hijinks could be interpreted as charming, but when it’s followed by the MC introducing the show with his phone accidentally ringing in his pocket, eyebrows were raised. Jarred Keane’s introduction didn’t recover and first act Shayne Hunter had his work cut out for him winning back the 30 strong, but unnervingly quiet, crowd.

Hunter’s delivery was strong but he was soon shattered by the music from the start of the show cutting back in again. After a long stare toward the back of the room Hunter asked what was going on. “Sorry, I was just mucking around with my phone” was the reply. You felt sorry for Hunter, but even so, his material was hardly inspiring. There was a lack of punchlines amongst his anti-establishment diatribe.

Mikey Mileos was likeable and had a great presence, but again was let down by a lack of jokes. Not only did he have to deal with the mystery of the music cutting in yet again, but his microphone started dropping out (some kind of mechanical solidarity perhaps?). Mileos ditched the mic and shouted the rest of his set.

All three comedians appeared shocked and even angry when the crowd remained unresponsive throughout the fifty minute show.  Hopefully Keane, Hunter & Mileos will  take responsibility for some of the shortcomings. With some serious polish any audience could walk away from this show, happily apathetic.

Brad straddles between the worlds of the deaf and the hearing, never quite fitting into either. Real estate agents in bad suburbs discriminate against him, but the only sign language he ever learned was when he tried to get a deaf girl into bed. He’s explored the world of deaf-hate groups (such things exist!), learned the history of the first deaf athlete and has written some ear-based erotica that must be heard (and seen) to be believed.

But for all that, Brad struggles to keep his show going for 45 minutes. His stories of the issues and challenges he’s faced through his deafness are the thing that make his show unique, but they’re spread too thinly across the set, and the rest of his material is generic and often not funny enough. Obviously he doesn’t want to make the show one-dimensional, but in trying to take on too many topics he loses direction and comes across as unpolished and under-prepared.

Deaf Defying is a shame, Hearne shows promise and can tell stories that no other comedian in the festival can. If he can develop his unique voice further, I think future shows will be well worth your time.

Where the extra time and pressure of a solo gig stretches some, Connell was able to present numerous stories about family, friends and girl troubles clearly and concisely with a good tempo and no sign of nerves.

Connell’s on stage persona is solid, and could become a real strength if developed further. He has the rare ability to sell the audience a dummy gag and deliver an alternate punch line. Connell’s uber-relaxed style facilitates polished delivery, calm confidence – poise even – but he never ‘explodes’, which means a tendency to blur through his punch lines. The set ups are great and the material is good, but some more animation and commitment to the finish may cue the audience that the climax has been reached.

If you took away the mic and stage, Likeable Enough would be just like hanging out with a mate at the pub or a house party. Connell is warm, genuine and just like that friend you had in high school who was hilarious.

Daniel Connell is more than likeable- the crowd was onside and ready to laugh; he just needs to back himself. If Connell’s material continues to develop and he commits to delivering it, it wouldn’t be surprising to see him up there with the likes of Arj Barker and Dave Hughes in the future.