John Moloney walks calmly on stage and starts by telling a joke. What? Have we returned to the 1970s, before ‘alternative’ comedy was invented? But no, he’s not sporting a velvet bow tie and there’s no slagging off of mothers-in-law. His delivery throughout is not quite, but nearly, deadpan; dry as the driest martini – and covers a great deal of ground, from the behaviour of cats at the vet to an appeal for darts to be in the Olympics, encompassing Hegelian theory along the way. That’s right. This is high quality stuff, sharply observant and carefully constructed. Not a word is unnecessary or out of place, every pause timed to the millisecond. And none of that audience ‘banter’ stuff where you ask people what their name is then take the piss out of what they do for a living. John Moloney affects the aura of an old-fashioned comedian, and references Les Dawson once or twice, but he is his own man and very definitely in the 21st century.
A deeply enjoyable, hilarious evening relaxing in the sure hands of a total professional.
John Christopher Wood