Simmons takes absurdist comedy to a new level. He does it cleverly and divisively – indeed, he literally divides a room. Half are in hysterics, half are bemused. All are wondering what is actually happening here.
A huge volume of props is strewn around the stage to be used in accompaniment to a meticulously worded script. Some of the script is spoken live, some is his own voice, pre-recorded and played for him to react to. It is all bizarre from the word go and dished out in little morsels so if one bit isn’t to your taste, the next will be.
There are jokes, but he doesn’t actually tell them. Part of Simmons' genius is in providing the ingredients to the joke and letting the audience cook it up themselves. Rather than set up, set up, punch line, he just reads out the recipe and knows those who want to will make the humour.
Insanely convoluted callbacks are peppered throughout and the rewards for an attentive audience are huge. That said, it's well nigh impossible not to pay attention, as Simmons spends a good deal of his time touching, screaming at, and covering the audience in foodstuffs.
This show couldn’t be further from normal standup, and that's the whole idea. Points are awarded during the Fringe for originality, pushing the boundaries of comedy and taking risks. Sam Simmons takes a lot of points for this mad hour.