Luke McGregor: I Worry That I Worry Too Much

Only in standup could crippling social anxiety be turned to one’s advantage. McGregor drags his jitters on stage, both as the subject of his material and the defining characteristic of his delivery. As a gawky, redheaded Tasmanian who's caught in a perpetual wince, he has a uniquely convincing package for his self-portrait of an OCD sufferer who finds small talk and women scarier than ghosts.

"This is a character," he jokes, "I'm actually really cool," and while this is perhaps the case with other purported nerds, the subtext here is that he wishes it were true. McGregor isn’t cultivating some geek-chic facade; this, to his dismay, is a man who walks the walk.

That's not to say he isn't self-aware about his dweebiness. For every time he reflexively yelps "Sorry!" before a gag has barely landed, there's a cannily deployed tale permitting us to laugh at his plight. Take his opening story about what a gift he was to bullies. It swivels round to his tormentors’ perspective, so that there’s no need to force a punchline: the joke is the man we see on stage. He’s even got an ingenious line to imply he’s forgotten his material – perfect camouflage for any genuine hiccups.

Stage manner aside, some of his more fanciful material betrays a repetitive structure. Who was the first person to attempt kissing? The first to ride a horse? To suggest women should wear make-up? It's a common template for deconstruction and could be rolled out with a little more guile. Still, it’s early days for McGregor’s debut. As he smoothes the joins between choice cuts from two Melbourne festival hits, many a crowd will fall for this bona fide dork.