Carl Donnelly: Bad Man Tings

Don’t be fooled by the title. Not only did Donnelly choose it months before he had any clue what he was going to say, but this is not a display of pumping male braggadocio. Now 34-years-old, Carl Donnelly is a man who can’t believe how boring he has gotten, and finds it absolutely hilarious.

Boring isn’t always bad. After years of Fringe shows covering depression, divorce and a trip through heavy drug use, this expert observational humourist is finally observing less upsetting fare: health fads, yoga and, yes, getting boring. Apparently 34 is the happiest year of your life, but now he has “nothing to talk about”.

It’s testament to how good Donnelly is at his job that you can’t tell the difference. His slickness used to smooth out bitter stories, now it elevates what would otherwise be overfamiliar material. Always relaxed on stage, he seems to take more pleasure than before when wandering off script with the audience, confident that he will deliver the jokes when he gets back to them.

And he’s not entirely gone to seed, no matter what he says. There’s some of the old self-loathing in Donnelly admitting he’s now a middle-class, soy-drinking, spiralising wanker, rather than a working-class hero. Plus later discussions of the next James Bond (the ultimate dad topic) take him near some new areas for his act, hinting that there’s still plenty of growth left in him.

For now though, this is exactly the solid hour of solid jokes that have made Donnelly such a popular performer. Just because something is dependable doesn’t mean it’s boring.