Jason Cook: Fear

"If you ever find yourself in an Arab prison...." Jason Cook, like most comedians, has his own onstage persona. Oddly, though, his spell in a Libyan jail following a conviction for maritime piracy sits somewhat at odds with it. While his manner may be that of a fearful, somewhat nerdy youngish man, Cook has had a remarkable life, and one which makes for truly uplifting comedy.

It's easy to become fed up with comedians who manage so consistently to find themselves in such pickles – or so they claim. Trips to the supermarket become platforms for wildly exaggerated anecdotes about standing in the queue without the correct change. Or something. But tales of Cook's former alcoholism, his fear of clapping toy monkeys, his anticlimactic attempt to abseil heroically down the side of Auckland's Sky Tower—video evidence provided—err on the side of understatement. The comedy springs, sometimes gently, sometimes more brashly, from the actions of a deeply flawed man. But then again, as he tells us, "we're all freaks, really."

It's perhaps because he's so genuine that Cook manages to draw real pathos from his narratives. The Arab prison anecdote steers clear of the potentially fruitful ground of jail rape jokes, firstly because Cook has sensibly written a show which works in his afternoon slot rather than ploughing on with a raucous evening set. Secondly, and more importantly, in a show about his myriad fears, Cook admits that he still finds the story upsetting. For a stand up to admit as much, perhaps takes more balls than any common-or-garden attempt at piracy.