Due to the previous show running late we miss the start of Gish’s late-nite standup show, arriving just in time for his first and most elaborate terrible pun, concerning the plaster cast conspicuously adorning his right forearm. 

Rest assured though, he can still play acoustic guitar.  Sporting his red poncho-blanket and tasseled skater pants, Gish (now going by the name ‘Oo Gish’, perhaps in tacit response to Radar’s adopted ‘Te’?) regales us with his trademark musical parodies, played with a pick made out of his community services card. 

Reasoning it’s in his cultural make-up to appropriate anything he sees fit, Gish happily mines (as in, that’s mine now) the canons of musical artists as diverse as Supergroove, Joey Scarbury, Bananarama, Harry Belafonte, the Swingers, Billy Joel, Edwin Starr, the Cranberries, the Bangles, Elton John, Dave Dobbyn, the Prentenders… the list goes on.

Many of the songs are just excerpts, often abruptly concluded mid-chorus even after an extended digressional buildup and skipping in schizoid fashion to the next gag which may or may not be in the slightest related to the preceding one. 

These curious ditties are liberally interspersed with loose but infectious hard-case banter, consisting largely of anecdotes involving himself and his bodily functions, illegal narcotics and/or unflatteringly described women. Having established we’re a dirty, not clean, audience with a show of hands, all bets are off as he shamelessly riffs on any and everything he may think of, while discovering the odd pubic hair in his mouth. 

The whole X-rated Billy T James meets Weird Al Yankovich shtick isn’t exactly original but who cares: he’s hilarious. Running about 20 minutes overtime himself, it’s a tad too long, given the lack of structural coherence. It’s more of a grab-bag of random gags and jingles both old and new. 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer