Golly. Cancel this at once! Well, not so fast...
Jefferies holds a unique position in comedy. His schtick is to dance on the line between sensible liberal viewpoints - banning guns, supporting trans rights, etc - while also seemingly dancing on its grave by doing things like casually dropping misogynistic jokes and going after the overly woke.
It's a balancing act. He leans hard into his loutish Aussie larrikin persona to get away with it, often making himself or his loudmouth attitude the butt of the joke. But for those who don't get it, he takes time out to explain how comedy works.
Offence isn't the goal, he says. Laughs are. And to get a laugh, he tells the audience, "you have to take risks, to gamble, if you will. Now what happens if you gamble? You don't always win."
He also addresses the trend of people digging up old material as a reason for cancelling someone.
"When I told the joke, the line was here, and it was socially acceptable, right? Now you moved the line back to here, so I won't go there anymore, I won't," he says. "But you can't get angry because you moved the line and then the f***ing joke was over here."
A valid argument or a disingenuous one? Both, really. It's unfair to judge jokes of the past by the values of the present but that acknowledgment is valid.
This section also highlighted a depressing comedy trend. There's a similar bit in Hannah Gadsby's excellent new special Douglas in which she too feels compelled to remind the audience at her comedy show that they are watching a comedy show. "Don't be offended. Don't be!" she implores. "They're just jokes."
It's almost as if comedy fans can't take a joke these days...
But seriously folks. There is power in words. This is why we don't say some and why others get starred out. Punch up, not down, is comedy's unofficial rule.
Jefferies is more like a typical Aussie drunk fighter, splaying punches wildly in all directions and occasionally landing a king hit, like his breakthrough bit, "Gun Control". He's at his most funny, however, when he's punching himself.
All his rants here are digressive tangents that spiral off from the main course of Intolerant; a rambling, shaggy dog story about taking his new girlfriend out for a degustation at a fancy restaurant. Being lactose-intolerant he can't eat cheese or ice-cream, which sadly for him are his two favourite foods.
Needless to say when the waiter presents both he scoffs them down - a decision that kick-starts a race against time to get to his home toilet without soiling his pants in front of his new paramour.
It's hugely funny; juvenile, yes, but hilarious, as unaccounted-for events draw his dilemma out to bursting point.
Intolerant is sweary and ranty, distributing its offence over as many groups as possible. It's also very funny and very clever.
If, of course, you can tolerate it.
