The stage set for Mike Wilmot’s new show consists of a mic, a stool and three beers. When Mike appears on stage he’s carrying another beer and it turns out that the sole purpose of the stool is to put his beer on. I can’t help but admire this old drunk.
Mike hits the stage running (not literally, it’s more like waddling). He bursts instantly into a foul mouthed diatribe about the difference between people who go to a show on a Saturday compared to those who go on a Friday (Friday night fuckers) and those who go on a Thursday (Thursday night fuckers). This blistering “fuck” fest was, to me, like a long drink of water to a thirsty camel. I start to chaffe if I go too long without my dose of filthy.
And filthy he is, perfect for connoisseurs of the filth like myself, not so good for the two girls up the front with their mother, especially after Mike went out of his way to explain to them that their mum not only takes it up the arse, but that, due to experience and time, she can cum with a power that neither of her offspring can yet understand. Are we getting the tone of the show yet?
At one point he said that he doesn’t talk about sex anymore and I was devastated, but he promptly went on to describe his ball sack in great detail and much sex talk ensued. No accusation of machismo could be levelled at Mike, he turns his humour against himself and is at his most most vicious when doing so. Mike mimes the funniest version of the G20 summit one could imagine, outlines the reasons for his esteem of of his racist neighbour, describes the quality of North Canadian radio together with an aside about the world’s best tuba player, discusses the concept of orgasm as infection and presents a comparitive discourse on tit verses clit. There’s a central story about being stuck in a cabin in the woods by himself with only chainsaws for company as well as some beautifully authentic and original material on smoking weed. There’s also a fair bit of stuff about eating out girls’ bumholes.
This comedian however, is a great deal more than filth. His sharp, authentic observations and his keen mind (even through the haze of booze) make him a comedian for connoisseurs of cerebral comedy. Added to this is a warmth and a wisdom that only come from a brain that traverses the most bitter that life has to offer to the most splendid.
And he’s a fucking funny cunt.
For more info and booking details go to Mike Wilmot