A pre-emptively chastising vocal introduction warns us that there will not be enough time during the forthcoming show to indulge any inane, idiotic or just plain stupid heckles… Potentially an irresistible temptation for that particular breed of irascible punter.

However, as it transpires, either there are no such punters present, or else when Australian Luke Heggie takes the stage his commandingly brisk, if a tad whiny tone, he has them too beguiled to attempt any wit of their own.

The connecting through-line for the ensuing hour of relentless nasal derision is a list of all the types of sub-educated persons who frequented the bottle-store he once worked in, and the ways and means by which they would make his day, by way of confirming all his worst judgments of where humanity is at and/or headed, whilst unwittingly providing him with fertile material for this very production.

What’s impressive about Heggie’s shtick is his ostensible lack of any.  He stands rooted to the spot behind his trusty mic, never missing a beat as he rails on those people that succeed in little besides winding up the captive audience that is your hapless friendly neighbourhood shop attendant: bourbon drinkers, astrology fans, body builders and the rest. 

The balance seems fairly even between insightful burns on the shortcomings of the targeted dregs of society, and shameless admissions of his own hypocritical bigotry on such sensitive topics as women, parenting and religion. He keeps all his local Aussie references in (cobbers, bunyips, John Howard, etc), forgoing any mention of the fact that he’s in a different country – hardly necessary given the similarity between our two great nations’ drinking cultures.

Having had to rush from my late-running previous engagement Outsider’s Guide, I didn’t manage to get a drink the whole night, but after an hour of laughing out loud at Heggie’s acute examples of alcohol related travesties, I reckon I’m doing just fine.

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