Paul Currie has about three people actively enjoying the show in the first minutes. Everyone else is confused and, to be honest, a little scared, perhaps waiting for the show to really begin. No one wants to sit in the front row. There’s a sense of fear, a reluctance to be dragged into “whatever this is,” although he coaxes some people up front with a kindly smooth, wry goading.

Then Kapow! An atomic bomb of joyful energy. He eviscerates the room into vibrant shaking laughter. Every bit strange, avant-garde and relentlessly silly. After a while, you start to think that each bit seems to follow its own paradoxical logic, then the next sketch abandons it completely until you forget to keep track and just start just enjoying the moments. Slowly, magnetised into Paul Currie’s fun magisterium.

A full onslaught of intricate, joyful silliness. It’s irresistible. I found myself gritting my teeth at first, but as the show came to the boil, I was grateful to be part of it, like the funniest kid in school had invited you into his gang that you initially said you didn’t want to join but found yourself laughing and hanging with them against your cool instincts.

He’s an incredibly funny man. In the riffing, he’s wacky, playful, sharp. He says, “this stuff writes itself,” then fires off six or seven improvised lines in a row to a cackling room at The Stand in Glasgow. His interaction with the audience, the tech, even the wall ! Pure joie de vivre. Paul Currie could resuscitate an emotional corpse, and tonight I think he possibly did – mine.

What’s striking is the distance travelled. Those first minutes feel miles away by the end. As he peels back his own layers, he peels ours too. It’s brave, both in the vulnerability of what he shares and in committing fully to something truly this strange. Parts of his personal journey sit abruptly against the comedy, but with that smoothed out, this is surely a five star show.

The laughs are different. Not punchline laughs of recognition, but joyful ones. If I had to sum it up, this show is getting to play with the most fun imaginary friend that anyone has ever imagined ever – for one solid hour. I’ll think about the asparagus bit for the rest of my life, but there are dozens of moments like that, silly – yes , smart – maybe? I don’t think that matters.

Breaking the hard part of a well trodden path that we expected coming in. Planting seeds of joy in each of us. The binding magic happens when he’s got us up there with him – it’s just amazing fun to see a fellow muggle take his lead from stage – getting catalysed with silliness, More of that please!

Many comedians are smart. Many are funny. Few have big hearts, and fewer still connect theirs with yours and everyone else’s.

By the end, there’s a warm, silly “we’re in a gang” feeling that wasn’t there at the start. The inventiveness and creativity brought in abundance remind you that being alive can be a privilege, a fun one at that!

Paul Currie doesn’t just shed his own skin. As he peels off yours he resuscitates the fun kid inside you.

★★★★

Reviewed by Stephen Sharp