This was yet another packed-to-the-rafters Travestees show, with every seat taken and plenty more people standing at the back. MC for the evening's entertainment was Andrew O'Neill, who appeared with long black hair down to his waist, and long black boots up to his waist, wearing a Misfits T-shirt. This young, vegetarian, anarchist goth had a sure, if somewhat nerdy, style and material that mined three separate veins. Firstly, there was a sprinkling of Harry Hill-style abstract stupidity in his irrelevant facts concerning five celebrities - trivia which was neither factual nor very funny. There was also a discussion on how Bargain Hunt would beat the Antiques Roadshow in a fight - this I felt was his weakest material. The second vein was Andrew's observational humour, eg: the uninspired heckling he sometimes receives from builders and chavs for having long hair. There was also a funny piece about World War I, which included the measuring of distance from Tipperary, leading to the creation of the song It's a Long Way to Tipperary. This brought us to the third vein, the musical part of his act. Throughout the evening he encouraged crowd participation with sing-alongs. At one point, he divided the room in half to get the audience to participate in a rendition of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. He also treated us to his rendition of a romantic love song (sic) by infamous death metal band Cannibal Corpse. Henrik Elmer from Sweden was the first act, and as he came on stage making weird nasal-snorting pig sounds I was expecting the worst. Nevertheless, it wasn't long before he hit his stride, with some extremely dry, twisted deadpan logic, delivered in a quiet, laid-back, yet somewhat sinister, manner. Henrik's material covered such bizarre topics as telephoning people on the same page as him in the phone directory, in order to invite them to a party; his compulsive urges to throw his keys into a river when walking across a bridge; and running from policemen to test their reaction. Other somewhat unusual pastimes included phoning his own answering machine, his religious doubts (about being God), and his desire to stick his head out of the windows of trains. His was genuinely off-the-wall humour, which I enjoyed immensely. However, I am extremely glad he doesn't live next door to me. Guest act of the night was Nick Healy, playing only the third gig of his standup career. Unfortunately, this was apparent. In his allotted five-or-so minutes he talked about his mad family members, and their attempts to outdo each other with their mental illnesses, and the occult, with reference to the TV show Most Haunted etc. He appeared to be extremely nervous. Because of this, probably 50 per cent of his act consisted of the phrase "you know" as he chuckled to himself. Embarrassingly, he even lost his thread at one point and forgot what he was saying. Luckily, however, the crowd was a forgiving one, and he emerged unscathed. The penultimate act for the evening was Norman Lovett, a man who has appeared in numerous BBC television programmes, most famously as the senile computer Holly in Red Dwarf. He delivered his deadpan set in a quiet, mild-mannered understated way, as he talked about his glee at finding a four-pack of self-tapping screws in his dressing room (that's one of the perks of the job), how he hasn't done much in his 30-year comedy career (he's 60 in October you know), and the inaccuracy of the phrase "to drink like a fish". He also provided some extremely useful fashion tips on how best to wear a scarf or a pair of sunglasses. Alas, rather too much time was spent on a self-indulgent segment discussing the clearing up of the dog mess from his two dogs. He waffled on aimlessly about the various sizes of plastic bags he has used for the chore, as well as pointlessly demonstrating the bags as balloons. Personally, I felt this was really the only miss of his well-received routine. Final act of the night was Steve Day. He lost his hearing at 18 years of age and is allegedly Britain's only deaf (with a small d!) comedian. Much of his humour centred around this, and as someone who has qualifications in British Sign Language and who is fully aware of deaf issues, I was somewhat dismayed to discover Steve is unable to sign. I was therefore unable to heckle him visually. Having lost most of his hearing in his late teens, Steve was able to chat about deafness from both hearing and hearing-impaired perspectives. In particular, he poked fun at the (unfortunately all too true) snobbery and elitism which is rife in deaf culture, between those born deaf and those that become deaf later in life. His gags covered such topics as his five kids, including non-identical twins; how his son's gangsta rap hand signs are comparable to BSL; Cornish windmills; education (with everyone going to university it is difficult to find a qualified plumber - but you can get someone round to discuss the golden age of Italian cinema); being a student studying philosophy; performing on a cruise ship; how the Teletext on live news readings can lead to some embarrassing mistakes; and a skit regarding performing in the show Abnormally Funny People alongside Chris McCausland (a blind comic) and a short-statured person. Finally, his observations on sex and hearing aid feedback were hilarious, particularly when combined with the problems of the issue of finding an interpreter to interpret colloquial sexual terms. Yet again this was another varied and well-put together bill from Travestees, roll on the next one. | 
