How to lose your crowd in one horrible hour
This article is from 2008.
No one expects fluffy, cuddly material from Jim Jeffries. The Australian comic is infamous for his potty-mouthed, middle-finger-up comedy, and he'll trash anything - cancer, self-harmers, molested children - as long as it gets a laugh. But unlike other un-PC comedy giants such as Doug Stanhope, Bill Hicks or Lenny Bruce who reveal(ed) their genius through fabulously obscene sets, there's nothing truly daring or thought-provoking behind Jeffries' rock'n'roll bravado this year. Like a playground bully with a mic, at his worst he's Bernard Manning or Jim Davidson with a down under accent.
Warming up with typically straight-talking, bad boy material - drugs and hookers good; queers and fat people bad (especially Kelly Osbourne, with whom he's been having a high-profile beef) - his set then unravels into a desperate taboo-by-numbers tirade. Spraying abuse like a scattergun, he tries slagging dwarves, burns victims and his fat mum to get an increasingly disenchanted crowd back onside, before eventually waking up his old dear at 5am in Australia. 'My mum thinks my career's in trouble', he moans into a stranger's mobile. Judging by this performance, she might have a point.
Udderbelly's Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug, 9pm, £12–£14 (£10–£12).