“My mind is a prison full of crazy ideas. And I think there’s going to be a jailbreak!” That’s Sam Campbell: freewheeling concepts for comedy set loose at you from all angles, by an act who’s sharply aware of the ridiculousness of that undertaking. It’s after midnight when he traps his audience in this subterranean space, and nocturnal giddiness may play a role in what follows, as Campbell splices manic standup, unexpected cameos and dotty visual gags on-screen. None of it has anything to do with anything: it’s the incongruity, taken to uncommon lengths, that’s funny.
And it is here, more so than on previous occasions I’ve seen the Australian’s work. Like those great oddball comics Hans Teeuwen and Sam Simmons, there’s always been an edge of instability to what Campbell does. His boyish face could burst out crying any minute, or grow the devil’s horns. But there’s a recalibration this year fractionally more towards warmth, and the show is delivered with increased verve and attack.
