Trygve Wakenshaw delivers a consummate demonstration of comedic virtuosity in this hour-long stream-of-clown-consciousness expressed largely through the art of mime.  The opening of the show gives a perfect demonstration of what’s in store: emerging from the wings with ropes attached to his clothing, each item is pulled off in turn as he advances toward a stool.   This is amusing enough in itself, but there follow a couple of very silly-yet-clever twists that reveal a keen comic intelligence at work.

Wakenshaw brings his ideas to life with an expressive agility that makes him a highly watchable performer seemingly wholly at home in his own skin.  This relaxed self-assurance presumably comes not only from confidence in his abilities, but also in the very well-crafted material; a series of routines involving imaginative transformations of one idea into another.  Many of these make reference to the conventions of mime, such as a hilariously silent hip-hop call and response routine.   A faulty sampling loop pedal leads to him galloping about like an agitated horse, then sword-swallowing a unicorn’s horn, which in turn leads to a medical problem requiring him to remove his liver.  This he then cooks in a sizzling frying pan, which morphs into the hiss of an angry serpent. This he attempts to mesmerise using a snake-charmers classic tune, with the audience warmly cajoled into singing along.  His impish charm allows him to get some individuals to provide instrumental solos, which he then samples using the loop pedal from the start of the routine.

To reiterate, this is all mimed action with a few vocal sound effects, but the efficiency of his delivery ensures we follow the continuous medley of ideas that keep the show veering off along unexpected yet strangely logical tangents.  An over-ambitious weightlifter’s broken arms become the wings of a dumb-faced chick, whose returning parent’s feeding regurgitations transform slowly and horribly into a torrent of projectile diarrhoea.

This unremitting stream of comic invention leads to the full gamut of sounds of amusement from the audience, from giggles and nose-snorts to full-blooded guffaws.  He makes it look all very easy, but the density of invention can surely have only been achieved by disciplined hours of improvising, honing and composing.  It isn’t particularly ground-breaking or edgy, just a very good example of the art of clowning, and I find it hard to imagine there could be many human beings who would leave the show not happier for having seen it.