Ross Noble @ The Enmore Theatre, Sydney
Fizzy Logic Tour
22 March 2007
For the uninitiated, it is exceptionally difficult to explain the comedy styling of Englishman Ross Noble. His 2006 tour was named ‘Randomist’ and he will probably never be summed up more succinctly than that.
Manic, strange and whimsical, Noble has the ability to frustrate the hell out of the entire audience with his constant straying from the punchline into a nightmarish array of tangents. However, it is therein his genius lies. One insane story and the slightest jeer of the crowd sends him careening towards a funnier, fantastical new story of his recent Moroccan travels, whilst promising he will return to the “insults I received from bogans” tale shortly.
Noble is nothing if not interactive. At least half his show is dependant on audience participation, and if he happens to come across an uncooperative member of the theatre going public – hell hath no gleeful spite like a comedian scorned.
“Feel free to actually answer me, ‘cause you had me thinking you were watching me on satellite delay, mate”, he says to one timid gentleman who has decided he does not want to answer more than one of Noble’s questions.
“I am actually here, you know, this is live, I may actually talk to you, although I know this is Sydney and people here aren’t used to that kind of thing”.
Noble begins his show with a hilarious animated video presentation, which, among other things, warns the audience not to lick each other, or use mobile phones because you will find your face immediately riddled with cancerous tumours. It also makes numerous gratuitous references to the arse, and what could happen to it if you do not take the advice of the cartoon on board.
From there, Noble bursts on to stage to the circus-themed tones of his favourite band, ‘Half-Man, Half-Biscuit’. The set consists of inflatable silver balls, tacked together to represent the bubbles of his ‘Fizzy Logic’. Good thing the word ‘Logic’ is prefixed with ‘Fizzy’, because what follows is a mind-warping lesson in comic lunacy.
Wild haired, purple-shirted and flare-panted, Noble launches into many a tale that has the audience writhing and grabbing on to the sides of their seats as if they are passengers on an unreliable carnival ride.
Highlights include the recounting of when a ute full of bogans attempted to insult him by screaming out “Yer Mum’s yer Dad!”; making the entire audience visualize a blind orphan child being repeatedly “bummed in the face” by escaped monkeys at a zoo; recalling his strip-search at a Morrocan airport when he attempted to move his genitals from side to side without the aid of his hands, insinuating all Australians hate the English – especially going by the advertisements for giving blood; and recounting experiences with cab drivers from non-English speaking backgrounds – one of whom informed Noble his "real job" was to make horses perform “unusual movements”, when he was, in fact, a dressage trainer.
All throughout, Noble will stop and question late members of the audience being shown to their seats (“what the fuck time do you call this?” he asks two sheepish looking women), randomly question what certain individuals do for a living (“union worker for prison officers? Jesus Christ on a bike”), and insult the fashion sense of those within his line of vision (“how much did you pay for that green suit? One hundred bucks? You got ripped off mate”).
When he is about to lose his place and begin yet another story in the middle of the first, Noble will often ask a member of the front row to recall a key word to lead him back on track in a few minutes time. Amusingly, it is often somebody he has just verbally attacked. So frequent is the occurrence of losing his place, Noble recounts a patron at a previous gig stood up and screamed “ROSS!!!….FOCUS!!!”
Yes, all very well and good, but then he’d just be another over-prepared cookie cutter comedian with a muted sense of the avant-garde. Keeping his material difficult for others to duplicate due to its sheer spontaneous madness is what makes him unique and wildly entertaining. Stay unfocused Ross, tell ‘em all to shut their faces!
Fizzy Logic Tour
22 March 2007
For the uninitiated, it is exceptionally difficult to explain the comedy styling of Englishman Ross Noble. His 2006 tour was named ‘Randomist’ and he will probably never be summed up more succinctly than that.
Manic, strange and whimsical, Noble has the ability to frustrate the hell out of the entire audience with his constant straying from the punchline into a nightmarish array of tangents. However, it is therein his genius lies. One insane story and the slightest jeer of the crowd sends him careening towards a funnier, fantastical new story of his recent Moroccan travels, whilst promising he will return to the “insults I received from bogans” tale shortly.
Noble is nothing if not interactive. At least half his show is dependant on audience participation, and if he happens to come across an uncooperative member of the theatre going public – hell hath no gleeful spite like a comedian scorned.
“Feel free to actually answer me, ‘cause you had me thinking you were watching me on satellite delay, mate”, he says to one timid gentleman who has decided he does not want to answer more than one of Noble’s questions.
“I am actually here, you know, this is live, I may actually talk to you, although I know this is Sydney and people here aren’t used to that kind of thing”.
Noble begins his show with a hilarious animated video presentation, which, among other things, warns the audience not to lick each other, or use mobile phones because you will find your face immediately riddled with cancerous tumours. It also makes numerous gratuitous references to the arse, and what could happen to it if you do not take the advice of the cartoon on board.
From there, Noble bursts on to stage to the circus-themed tones of his favourite band, ‘Half-Man, Half-Biscuit’. The set consists of inflatable silver balls, tacked together to represent the bubbles of his ‘Fizzy Logic’. Good thing the word ‘Logic’ is prefixed with ‘Fizzy’, because what follows is a mind-warping lesson in comic lunacy.
Wild haired, purple-shirted and flare-panted, Noble launches into many a tale that has the audience writhing and grabbing on to the sides of their seats as if they are passengers on an unreliable carnival ride.
Highlights include the recounting of when a ute full of bogans attempted to insult him by screaming out “Yer Mum’s yer Dad!”; making the entire audience visualize a blind orphan child being repeatedly “bummed in the face” by escaped monkeys at a zoo; recalling his strip-search at a Morrocan airport when he attempted to move his genitals from side to side without the aid of his hands, insinuating all Australians hate the English – especially going by the advertisements for giving blood; and recounting experiences with cab drivers from non-English speaking backgrounds – one of whom informed Noble his "real job" was to make horses perform “unusual movements”, when he was, in fact, a dressage trainer.
All throughout, Noble will stop and question late members of the audience being shown to their seats (“what the fuck time do you call this?” he asks two sheepish looking women), randomly question what certain individuals do for a living (“union worker for prison officers? Jesus Christ on a bike”), and insult the fashion sense of those within his line of vision (“how much did you pay for that green suit? One hundred bucks? You got ripped off mate”).
When he is about to lose his place and begin yet another story in the middle of the first, Noble will often ask a member of the front row to recall a key word to lead him back on track in a few minutes time. Amusingly, it is often somebody he has just verbally attacked. So frequent is the occurrence of losing his place, Noble recounts a patron at a previous gig stood up and screamed “ROSS!!!….FOCUS!!!”
Yes, all very well and good, but then he’d just be another over-prepared cookie cutter comedian with a muted sense of the avant-garde. Keeping his material difficult for others to duplicate due to its sheer spontaneous madness is what makes him unique and wildly entertaining. Stay unfocused Ross, tell ‘em all to shut their faces!
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