Hands up if you’ve ever been arrested. Keep those hands raised if, as a result of the aforementioned arrest, you’ve copped rather a lot of flak at work, right before you’re intending to go on a bit of a tour with your sparkly new stand-up show. Continue to also look a little sheepish if that flak has resulted in you discovering you've got a lot of spare time in your immediate future. If you think I’ve finally lost it and am rambling on like the local drunk, fifteen Bundy and Cokes in, Google ‘Shad Wicka Scott Morrison’ (if you just click that there link, I’ve already done the heavy lifting for you. You’re welcome).
Yep. The mug says exactly what you think it says, because really, if you’re going to send it, you send it big-time. That should tell you exactly what to expect from the freshman Wicka, who’s going solo for the first time since his breakfast radio gig disappeared after he upset the Nightwatchman Prime Minister in January. Acid, strippers, and the importance of getting revenge on your dad aren’t exactly the most high-brow of topics, but it’s good, clean fun. Well, not clean. Not even close.
Wicka starts brightly, clearly comfortable with this whole telling jokes thing, and fires off a few establishing shots, which are a bit crude, but fit the whole ‘throw shit at the wall and see what sticks’ sort of vibe he’s giving off. He stumbles a bit, the timing and consistency is a bit scattered, and occasionally he paints himself into a corner where you start looking around for Red Symons and his gong, but Wicka never truly hits rock bottom. Some of the material definitely misses the intended target, but ultimately the show lives up to its billing; not great at all, but far from shit.
Not Great (But Not Shit) is running at the Richmond Hotel until the end of Fringe. Tickets can be purchased here.