Phil Kay – London Aye!
‘God bless the reviewers that attempt to sum this up’ Phil Kay tells us, after wandering on stage like a man very much out of touch from reality. The review would probably consist of ‘Aaarggggghhh’. Indeed summing up Kay is almost impossible; no subjects are followed, no line of coherence used and words seem to fly out randomly from his mouth. It’s like watching an acid fuelled Ben Gunn from Treasure Island trying to do stand-up. Kay himself, with sandals, beard and acoustic guitar is certainly part of the global hangover from the 1970s – the sort of person who camps naked, eats placenta and howls at the moon.
Then again, this is probably comedy existing outside of time itself. It’s archaic, raw and primeval, writhing on the floor with no trousers on and a bin on its head. The audience unwittingly becomes as much a part of this wild scene as the unhinged loon dancing about on stage. Crazy stuff.
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