Nick Doody: Schizo

Last year, Nick Doody had a revelation. Thrown into a slump by his mother’s death, he found himself contemplating exactly how and why he does what he does. As explained in an unpromising opening disclaimer, his conclusion was this: his natural levelheadedness would never excite; he must attempt the sort of rabble-rousing pigheadedness that provokes Question Time audiences into applause.

Comedy that abandons sincerity so openly risks losing its edge, but the strength of Doody’s performance makes this a worthwhile gamble. And so it begins: "This country fucking sucks." Fists shaking, eyes popping, he spews forth such incredulous bile that it’s easy to forget that this is all quite calculated. His subjects (recession, expenses, a certain hairy angel, etc.) have already been devoured elsewhere, but his jowl-shaking mock indignation and knack for ingeniously nasty analogies give an original twist to the most threadbare of standpoints. It’s not long before the spontaneous applause breaks out.

For his next trick, Doody performs an about-face: suddenly he is optimistic, sensitive, even patriotic – though he retains a healthy cynicism. It’s testament to his versatility that his bittersweet stories about deathbed humour are just as engaging as his thoughts on slaughtering the monarchy. As it turns out, the duplicity of the title applies not only to that switch between frothing agitator and the softer, less vicious Doody, but also to his subtler shifts between affectation and frankness. His rants may be just for show – but it’s his awareness of how satirical comedy works that places him among the smartest comedians at the Fringe.