Review by Steve Bennett

Awkward outsider Seymour Mace is a strangely appealing mix of the deranged and the daft, one minute presenting himself – quite convincingly – as a creepy stalker weirdo, the next espousing some surreal ideas he’s clearly spent far too much time thinking about.

Forget Darwin, Mace has his own theory of the origin of the species, and it is as odd as it is disturbing. ‘Ah, nervous laughter,’ he says at one point. ‘My favourite kind.’ And he’s clearly out to disconcert as much as he is to entertain.

The perverse trains of thoughts create some original and nicely odd gags, such as his bit about animal biscuits, but it’s not all amiable surrealism, he can craft a memorable one-liner or even get inflamed enough for a full-on shouty rant, whether it be on the false friendships of Facebook or the last acceptable prejudice, against ginger people.

Not everything works – an occupational hazard of being a professional oddball – but the demented turns of his mind keep you transfixed through the less rewarding patches; though his climactic mime, reconstructing the movements of one of Gladys Knight’s Pips throughout the entirety of Midnight Train To Georgia could easily be a lot shorter.

Review date: 21 Oct 2009
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Manchester Frog And Bucket