Mike Wilmot is one of the comic laureates of Canada, so it's understandable that he had a hard time dealing with performing in a tent. What with the snakes, crocodiles, his missus, and Clipsall 500 fans to deal with, one really got the sense that he was 'up against it'. But, like any comedian worth the admission, he slugs a Cooper's Pale and gets on with it.
I got the sense he was like a panda on his first day in the zoo, padding up and down against the glass, sussing out his oglers. Maybe that's because this was a Thursday. But what's so outrageous about comedy on a Thursday night? Yes, it was early and still daylight, and yes, it was not yet the weekend, so perhaps not ideal conditions for Mike (he's such a 'Mike' when you look at him). But it dawns on you, and it should on him, that he is like a Martini: the perfect transition from 9-to-5 into I'll-start-a-tab-please.
Mike tries to save his X-rated stuff for the cover of darkness, but noone really wants him to. Let's face it, many are here to hear that gravelly larynx utter four letter words. And he does it so well! You never really know where Wilmot's going, but he gets there eventually, even if it is not far from where he started.
You even get the feeling that he could lead you on a fascinating three-hour tour of your own loungeroom, provided there were 'feeding-stations' like in cycling, and 'beer-stations' like at parties. It is a strange kind of intimacy you want with Mike. I would love to be his nephew, or seat him between Ghandi and Shakespeare at my ultimate dinner party.
Or maybe just have him bring a potato salad to my next BBQ. We'd drink red wine and make a whole bunch of garbage up, I reckon.
Venue: The Hunting Lodge | The Garden Of Unearthly Delights, Adelaide
Dates: 28 Feb – 18 Mar, 2012
Bookings: FringeTix 1300 FRINGE (1300 374 643) | www.adelaidefringe.com.au