Adam Hills: Inflatable at Edinburgh Fringe Review

Tonight, Adam Hills is accompanied by a British Sign Language interpreter. The first half hour consists of a riotous back-and-forth exchange with and through the (un)lucky gal, and by the time the triple Perrier-award winning comedian finally reaches his prepared material he's got the audience eating out of his hands.

Hills must be Australia's most likable, genial comedian. Brendon Burns' furious metafiction often leaves a sour taste, and even polymath sprite Tim Minchin can sound somewhat bitter, squatting behind his massive piano singing about how wrong somebody else is. Hills, however, seems to sweat serotonin. Words such as 'joyful' and 'uplifting' pad around after the globe-trotting uniped, and deservedly so. Despite frequently treading un-PC waters, his jokes always come across as good-natured, and he has a deft touch for the sentimental.

Inspired by the passing of a close friend, the show's material revolves around the unusual circumstances in which people bond and make connections. He has received his education through touring, his travels to Belgium, coverage of the Paralympic Games for Australian television and other such offbeat japes giving him plentiful experience to draw from.
Almost as funny as Hills tonight is the crowd. Some of the heckles are stonkers, and there ever was a friend to an audience, it's Hills. He has a knack for making friends and is determined to do so. Feeding off the chemistry, the comic leaves the stage to full, prolonged applause, pausing to proclaim the show one of the most enjoyable of his career.