Proving that there is still a little life in that old saw about comedy being the new rock'n'roll, Harry Hill crops up this year as a rare stand-up on the bill of the Meltdown music festival. He is here at David Bowie's behest, but loses no time in biting the hand that feeds him. When Hill bounds on stage he is decked out as glam-era Bowie, squawking the Thin White Duke's classics through a set of fake buck teeth.
The intro sets the tone for the evening: gleeful stupidity and sly provocation. The results are never less than enjoyable, even if over two and a half hours the Hill shtick is stretched beyond its ideal limit. But then, that's part of the fascination: how long can Hill sustain one of the most emphatic stage personas in comedy? He is like a kid in adult's clothes (hence the collars) with an insatiable appetite for mischief. He pulls it off because he is happy to make himself look ridiculous. Hill is not bothered with cool; he knows he's a fool. And, like the traditional fool, he spikes his idiocy with shards of subversion. We are laughing so hard at the convoluted build-up that we hardly notice Hill satirising our attitudes to vagrancy, or testing the context in which he can joke that Nelson Mandela and Trevor McDonald look the same.
What is most impressive about this Meltdown gig, however, is the effort - unusual for a stand-up - that Hill has invested in its construction. With support from his band, the Caterers, Hill has woven a lattice of musical motifs and recurring gags. Throughout the evening he tests breakfast cereals for their musical capacity and invites the crowd to suggest tunes to which he can croon, à la Cliff Richard, the Lord's Prayer. It is all delivered with frenetic physical energy by the harrumphing stand-up.
The effect is a joyful one. Hill's inanity is infectious, whether he is dispensing groansome one-liners, deploying his so-bad-they're-funny vaudeville skills or refining his trademark fusion of surrealism and pop culture. This is a world where dolphins are threatened by Kinder Eggs and Hill's left knee impersonates Jim Davidson. "Back me up on this," Hill is fond of saying as another gag spills over into nonsense. The Meltdown audience were delighted to do so.
