The complete performance takes you on a rollercoaster ride of savagely absurd observations, dodging shallow clichés and kicks you were it hurts (to laugh). Rarely giving you the time to wipe your eyes dry, the Doktor’s exceptionally unfaltering chants of supposed moral outrage and hilarity just keep coming.
Despite his appearance on TV, his show is and always does remain modest. Without such strangely comforting and intriguing interactions with the audience, an unsettling sense of familiarity would be sadly lost.
Ushering the help of the Casio CG20, (a rather crap looking 80’s electronic keyboard in the shape of a guitar) the questionable practical knowledge to play it, combined with drunken uncle dance moves, he quite rightly manages time and again to summon irresistible laughs.
Ridiculous repetitive choruses give stupendously funny verses enough time to ring true. Like a bagatelle board with the spring pulled back before catapulting the ball in all manner of directions, the hesitant build-up gives the punch-line that extra boost and leaves you feeling more than slightly dizzy.
It is for certain that we haven’t come to see musical talent. Despite his uncanny ability to switch between many different outdated keyboards and remember which loop track is culminated by pressing which 5 buttons, his skill will always lie with mastering a sarcastic ‘I give up’ facial expressions whilst delivering impeccably refreshing comic absurdity.
Yet this comic’s material is not merely a laughing matter, nor is he a simple jester complete with face paint, underpants and tie. His words are often solemnly sharp observations of our self-destructive culture and really very clever.
‘Protest Singer for the 21st Century’ by name, critical piss-taking songsmith by nature.
4/5 
Celia Philips
