Review: Tony Law: Maximum Nonsense, The Stand Comedy Club (Venue 5a)

Or, AS the billboard outside the venue has it, “Maximum Noonsense”. “Let’s not forget this is lunchtime,” is the mantra boomed out by Canadian comedian Tony Law in a Burtonesque baritone at every opportunity.

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The voice suggests an unhinged officer demanding his boys go over the top with him one last time, while the look – sandy blond beard and hair, wild eyes, striped top and neckerchief – screams marauding Viking or swashbuckling pirate, as he points out himself. It’s fair to say that Law is a personality comedian, and his singular force-of-nature delivery has the effect of holding his material together where it may be lacking.

Once you overcome the continual amusement of a naturally funny man saying things in a natural and funny way, the Edinburgh Comedy Award nominee’s set is easily broken up into two distinct threads: feverish, genre-distorting excellence and flailing weirdness searching desperately for a point.

When the former emerges it’s a joy to behold, for example an attempt to branch into Minchin-style musical comedy when all he can play are two sad notes on a steel pan, or an in-character conversation with himself about whether he has the experiential right to imitate a black South African just because he likes the accent. The finale is a bravura blend of elephants, singing and nonsense, but too often through the set the latter has been hammered most fiercely.

Until 27 August. Today 12:30pm.