You’ve got to be wary of a comedian who promises to talk about his penis, but Wool’s gruesome tale of penile biopsies is a hilarious, if squirm inducing, end to a fantastic act. There is nothing new about the topics Wool explores, but he still manages to drive his own wedge deep into the already exploited material. He spends a lot of time skirting on the edge of good taste, but he always manages to find the correct level, or draw you down to his. This is no mean feat given that his material is very much of the moment, but his enigmatic personality and easy going attitude give weight to his dodgy explorations of Palestine, soccer hooliganism and recreational drug use. The more cynical commentator will draw on the obvious similarities between portions of Wool’s act and the late, great Bill Hicks. It would be fair to say that Wool does draw influence from Hicks, but he lacks the over zealous ranting that many Hicks-wannabes display and is much better because of it. Instead over going down a frenetic road of teeth gnashing frenzy, Wool takes a much more relaxed, live and let live attitude to his material. This doesn’t mean that he lacks spark, but that he follows his hysterical observations and conclusion with an intelligent line of thought and reasoning. In a world were so much comedy is overtly derivative, Wool comes as a breath of fresh air. His delivery may occasionally falter, and his material plums the occasional unthinkable depths, but Wool is a talent to keep an eye on.
5/5
Richard Biggs
