LOVE was in the air when David O’Doherty took to the stage with his tiny keyboard and his eye for the absurd.
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ASSEMBLY, GEORGE SQUARE
It’s a safe bet that every woman wanted to take him home for a cuddle, and every man wanted to take him out for a beer. We’ve all had our Irish Whimsy inoculations, so what makes him so gosh darn loveable?
Maybe it’s his goofball enthusiasm for self-mockery. He knows that compared to his audience, people with real jobs and real issues, his comic’s life – world travel, four-star accommodation, the giddiness of being on stage – is, well, comical. So why isn’t he happy?
Perhaps he hasn’t got the right stuff. And so begins a tour of consumer culture and the acquisitions he’s made hoping to boost his serotonin. The descriptions are priceless. Can you guess what an ‘infinity knife’ might be? Or ‘mooncup coffee’?
Along the way there are lengthy asides concerning confectionary, pauses while he critiques the show, imagines a phone chat between the Queen and the Pope, and muses about the technology of cows. There is also a priceless anecdote about getting sent to the wrong hotel room and what he discovered on entering.
There are, of course, songs delivered in the manner of Rex Harrison, ie talked more than actually sung. O’Doherty’s dexterity with vocabulary, married to that skew-whiff perspective, is what makes him such a delight to listen to.
When he rolls around on the floor, delivering quips from a prone position, it’s tempting to wonder if entropy has taken over, but do not be misled. From entrance to exit, this man is in total control. Of his material. Of himself. Of us.
Until 25 August