KEY POINTS:
Some things Melbourne has that we don't. The Dame Kiri v The Voice court case. It's all over Aussie TV, with the current affairs people (I use that moniker in the loosest sense, see below) slagging her highfalutin' attitude off as a Kiwi thing.
Aussie morning TV hosts. Faded B-grade male pop stars in second-career mode, with frosted hair, cheesy grins and not much brainpower. We're so lucky to have Paul Henry ...
Eddie McGuire. The Nine Network boss can't keep himself off the telly and is fronting some new hyped-up variation of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. As one critic said, if you put Eddie under a pile of wet cement, you'd still hear him shouting.
Little Britain Live. Now we're talking. Sell-out shows up and down the east coast and Matt Lucas and David Walliams still couldn't find the time to pop over here. Heaven knows it can't be an expensive show to tour with just the two of them, a couple of extras, a screen show to set the scene, two huge video screens so no one misses the action, and a handful of props. A good excuse to go to Melbourne, though. But would LBL meet expectations?
The venue was purely commercial, a gi-normous atmosphere-free sports arena. The tickets said the show started at 7.30pm, but because of Melbourne's train glitch (fleet pulled after brake failure woes), the crowd was still pouring in until 8pm. Two pairs of bearded laydees, dressed in Victorian drag, got a huge cheer as they joined the audience.
Then, hooray! Lou came on stage with Andy's wheelchair, saying he'd lost Andy and was he in the audience? No, Andy-Lucas was behind him, flying in on a smoking hoist which lowered him into the chair.
And the show was on, pure slapstick, The Two Ronnies meets Benny Hill, but with the F-word and nudity thrown in.
The laydees rode on stage on their bikes; the Scottish hotel proprietor went mad with his flute; the cheapskate hypnotist persuaded his girlfriend to buy a $20 engagement ring; Carol, of the Sun Searchers travel agency tried to send her clients on a flight to Broadmeadows (a Melbourne suburb), quipping to the laughing audience, "Its a shit-hole."
Walliams and Lucas had done their homework and, with the help of the Kath and Kim creators, chucked in plenty of local references. When Vicky Pollard came on, with her six babies in six prams, she pointed to the audience and sneered, "I seen you showing your crack up at Bray St", one of Melbourne's red-light areas.
Lucas lost it at that point, and started to giggle, then Walliams cracked up. Those moments, which occurred through the night, were in some ways the most endearing, when they abandoned the script and winged it.
Then Walliams, as Des Kay, played Hide the Sausage with two hapless blokes from the audience who were good sports.
After the interval, it was time for the annual fete and for posh xenophobe Margaret to judge the cake competition. The winner was Indira Patel and so, boom boom, projectile vomiting. Ann came on Stars in their Eyes as Whitney Houston - "eeh, eeh, eeeh". Bubbles DeVere, in debt to the bank manager, stripped off for him. "Champagne, darling!" Yeeuch.
Walliams and Lucas completely lost the plot in the shop scene, and started discussing penises, and the fact Lucas likes to employ his in men's bums. "Oh yes, but at least I'm honest about my sexuality," he shot back.
"I'll come out when I'm ready," giggled Walliams.
Fat Fighters' Marjorie dragged a large member of the audience on for a bout of humiliation; she was not lost for choice there. Then Anthony Head came on as the Prime Minister - much whooping from the crowd - with assistant Sebastian delighted to hear the PM's marriage had collapsed.
Walliams then proceeded, with back to us, to completely strip off, whip his jolly roger between his legs and turn around and do a dance: "Look, Im a woman!" Crazy.
That was the end of the show ... but after huge applause, Daffyd "the Only Gay in the Village" pranced on in his red vinyl short-pant suit and little hat. "I'm gay", he sang and danced, sort of, joined by Head, Walliams and the two support actors, all in vinyl and singing, "I'm gay, get over it."
It was a fabulous finale to a night of pure semi-shambolic silliness, and the best sustained laugh I've had for yonks.
