Dave Hill’s Ohio drawl has discernible traces of Irish, belying his Irish American roots. But that’s not what he hits you with first. He bursts onto the small Upstairs space at the Soho Theatre, crashing through the swing doors on a child-sized bike, a bicycle helmet and a red onesie.
He’s then begins to fling popping firecrackers, artificial snow and fog at the audience, and flinging the microphone by its cord while attempting a solo. He slips on his own snow, fails to catch the mike and hits one duff note after another. “Well I think I nailed that. Let’s keep things moving”. The man’s daftness is endearing, growing on you until you succumb and belly laugh at very little indeed.
This one hour stand-up show mixes electric guitar playing – for which he has an obvious talent – and rants about some very local gripes. On the evening I attended, he took a swipe at Poundland, the London Underground, and online tracking cookies. One cannot suppress the sneaking suspicion that these are constructed on the night, perhaps after tipoffs of who might in the audience: a Poundland regional manager must have been in on my night.
The rants are jolly and harmless: his chosen targets are unlikely to take offence. His most funny skit is a recounting of the miracle of loaves and fishes and it’s the details that will kill you:
“But Jesus, dude, nobody drinks rose’”
“Talk to me again in two thousand years, you loser!”
An evening with Dave Hill is time and money well spent: an instant mood boost and a lasting grin on your face. More please!