That’s how I’d describe Glenn. “Fucking funny” are the next two words I’d add, but that wouldn’t make for a good sentence.
We line up to enter a stuffy little room in the side wing of the Melbourne town hall. It is instantly clear that the show has sold a few more tickets than anticipated. Every seat which has been crammed into the hot cupboard of a room is full.
You trust Glenn. Glenn seems like an honest guy. He tells stories about his arsehole that most people wouldn’t share with their closest of closest. He mentions that he used to be a comedy regular in Australia, but then was offered the chance to be a “star” in L.A. “Well, I’m back”, he says. He jokes about his own shortcomings and embarrassments. These kinds of things play a large role in his show, and he gets you onside, laughing along with him about everything from border security to drunken not-quite-sexual molestations.
Glenn is a bit deceptive. He plays the fool. For the most part, he is hilariously silly. He rants about beavers, and why vaginas MIGHT HAVE EVER have been considered to be, in the loosest possible sense, similar to a beaver. The beaver bit went for a good twenty minutes, too, a fact which he proudly announced once he was done. He is honest about his past drug experiences, and you kind of share the feeling with him. However, the ostensibly stoner-drunk comic in his mid-thirties has something to say. He reels you in with stories of airport security mishaps and potential Iron Maiden sightings –he didn’t make it, but I don’t want to spoil too much if you’re planning on going to the show. Then, just when you’re least expecting it, he throws in something of a heavier nature. Suddenly he’s on the topic of American international relations, specifically, Bin Laden. You don’t really see it coming, but I think that’s the point. “Where are the photos?” he asks. No shit we haven’t seen the photos. They’re probably a dick-in-the-mouth-dolly-parton-wig-I-love-cock-in-lipstick-in-the-head ordeal, he says. And you believe him. How could you not? He’s so goddamed loveable.
Glenn applies an unusual but well employed structure to his show. The entire ordeal is framed by a story of being strip searched at an airport, which becomes a kind of in-joke he shares with the crowd by the end of the show. It removes the somewhat jarring nature of the section-by-section style a lot of the comics I’ve seen recently indulge in. He verges on the deliberately offensive, and then justifies himself, giggling like a kid that got away with it.
Overall, the show was fantastic, and made all the better by the fact that Glenn just seems to be a lovely guy. Definitely catch him.
Glenn Wool in No Lands Man runs until April 22 at the Cloak Room, Melbourne Town Hall. For tickets head to The Festival Website.
Words: Julian Eckstein