BILL BAILEY is the most likeable stand-up in Britain, too sunny to be a grumpy old troll. Five minutes into his rambling yet astute show, he has already discussed the universe and the human condition, while sending up his roadie countenance.
He doesn't do gags, aside from a trio of pub jokes that he deconstructs deliberately in the telling. Instead he does observations on philosophy and Hindu books, vipers and marijuana, giant KitKats and pesky Avril Lavigne, Mrs Thatcher's fear of beards and the West Country accent's lack of suitability for war correspondents and pop singing.
Rather than the tedious comedian's sport of audience baiting, Bailey engages in chatter. On only the third night of the tour, he extemporises plenty of the first-half material on travel, notably in a surrealist discussion on swimming with dolphins that has him mishearing Flamingoland as Ringoland and duly imagining a drumming theme park and then inventing Sparrowland.
Where Ricky Gervais was reluctant to scat in his satirical Politics show last month, Bailey revels in spontaneity and straying off the beaten path and he makes a feature of his lack of smooth transition from topic to topic.
He delves into the big subjects - not sex but religion and politics, America the bully and Britain's craving for disappointments - with an eye for detail that would delight both Bill Bryson and Eddie Izzard.
To cap it all, his musical interludes are inspired, particularly his Drum & Bush swipe at George Dubya and his glum Portishead version of Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah.
Updated: 09:41 Thursday, May 06, 2004
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