Josh Howie: I Am A Dick

Howie's vaguely troubled, effortlessly urbane, intensely cerebral stage persona lends itself perfectly to this evening's meditations upon whether or not he is a dick. Structuring the opening moments of the show around the subject of his wife's shit, Howie proves himself to be a highly competent analyst of language with an original take on stage visuals.

Judges from the audience are hand-picked to assess the level of the performer's dick-ness as Howie spins tales of male ineptitude and paranoia with studied vigour. It turns out to be a bold move, as the fine-tuned nuances of the performer's art are hilariously misread by a significant section of the audience. The derailment of the narrative turns out to make a good gig into a great one. Howie is thinking on his feet with twenty minutes to go, and the exhilarating closing section requires some alchemy if he's going to avoid meltdown. He delivers, with a genuinely brilliant line about his abilities as an improviser.

The structure of the show is reinstated at the end, but Howie shows his true mettle tonight when he's free-wheeling.