There is no bad language, nothing remotely cutting-edge and the show is peppered with reminiscences of the days when Starbursts were called Opal Fruits, when Kit-Kats were still wrapped in silver foil, and Pebble Mill was on TV.
With just a keyboard, a bottle of water and a banana – needed after a particularly draining rendition of a Reggae-style tribute to Vince Hill – Shuttleworth opens with Smells Like White Spirit, a reminder to clean brushes after decorating. His bewilderment at another group having mistaken white spirit for teen spirit is the essence of his genius. As the audience squirms at his witlessness, the only thing do is laugh.
Shuttleworth's cast of characters includes his neighbour and agent Ken, his wife Mary and the musicians he mentions in an entirely throwaway style, but in a few chords conjures up perfectly: REO Speedwagon, Toto, New Order, Kate Bush and Howard Jones are all there.
In his crumpled leather jacket, red poloneck and beige slacks, Shuttleworth is a magnet for bad luck and misunderstanding. Could he really have mistaken positive feedback after an eBay transaction for an invitation to visit the vendor for the weekend? But his appearance belies an unparalleled ability to play with words and the gift of seeing the world differently.
Favourites like Serial Cereal Eater, Pigeons In Flight and I Can't Go Back To Savoury Now had the audience singing along and raising imaginary lighters in the air. By buying into the myth you buy into an evening of excruciating fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment