Glenn Wool: Creator, I Am But a Pawn

"There was a voice inside my head", is a common excuse for outrageous behaviour. It's fitting, then, that Glenn Wool begins his show with a similar gambit, countenancing his risqué material with a pre-emptive excuse. Ultimately, the show isn't overly dark and the inner-conscience device doesn't get used much again, but it sets an apt tone for the enjoyably boundary-skirting rant on which he embarks.

There's a brash confidence threading through his material that suggests self-consciousness (or rather, guilt) is not a feeling in his repertoire, but he sells his cavalier nonchalance so convincingly that few would want to stop him in his stride. He's not apologetic for his satire, and rightly so. However, while the callousness of his jokes doesn't cause a problem, the substance of his message(s) is often lacking. He shifts between mottos seemingly at will, proclaiming conclusive-sounding thoughts on religion, beauty and censorship. The result is that the only thing connecting his various theories and segments is the audacious manner in which he's trumpeting them.

His delivery ranges from gutteral inward mumblings to thundering screeches, and while this contrast works nicely the first few times, it quickly becomes a sensory veil to cover weaker sections of his material. If what he's saying isn't particularly funny, he shouts it instead. That being said, aside from a sagging middle section, most of the show is searingly witty and pitched with just the right level of contempt. He's offensive, he doesn't care, and we're all the better for it.