Review by Steve Bennett

Joey West thinks Jerry Seinfeld ripped him off, stealing gags and ideas for the most successful sitcom ever made without giving him credit.

But it's very difficult to reconcile the sublime comedy of Seinfeld with the egocentric hack performing here.

West's biggest claim to fame to date is a string of unexceptional potboilers with titles like The Dumb Blonde Joke Book and 101 Things Not To Say During Sex.

He's not ashamed by these mercenary cash-ins, in fact he's very proud of them, believing they have artistic as well as financial merit.

It's hard to think of such an irony-free comic influencing the clever, multi-layered scripts that made Jerry and friends so popular.

The Seinfeld Conspiracy shares none of this tautness of writing. It rambles on at length, giving West's entire CV.

He's had an interesting life, that's for sure, working behind the Iron Curtain before it fell, acting as scriptwriter for Dan Quale and working on Saturday Night Live.

But his fascinating career doesn't seem to have any fascinating stories attached, he just wants to let the audience know how successful he is. And how much money he's made. Presumably, that's why he's talking to a dozen people in one of the lesser-known Edinburgh venues at lunchtime.

And because it's not particularly easy to like this product of showbiz shallowness, it's not particularly easy to believe his claims.

Saying things like Jerry's sitcom address - 129 West 81st Street - was the same as his address "at least I think it was" doesn't really help the argument either.

There are some coincidences, and there's no reason to disbelieve his claim that he got Seinfeld in touch with Larry David, the other creative force behind the show.

But the fact that he comes across as whiney and bitter doesn't endear him. And, more importantly, doesn't make for an entertaining show, especially one in which the writing is so sloppy.

Review date: 1 Jan 2002
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett