I want to like it I really do because it’s a big thing to stand on stage and spill your guts so openly and sincerely to strangers. He’s not really my flavour but he is for most of the audience, especially the enthusiastic people in front of me. More power to him and them.

Even the racist audience member sitting by me seems to be enjoying him. I say racist because well, she is. One comment she says doesn’t even elicit a boo from the audience. Does that make the audience racist? Therefore, am I racist by association? Aue … I guess more tellingly, why am I even thinking about that partway through a comedy gig?

Then, it is a late night show and Sinclair has the sense to ignore her or it could be he just doesn’t have a comeback. His routine does seem very practiced; dare I say formulaic. But he has a lovely manner about him: good natured, slightly nerdy, which makes him endearing.

The humour ranges from jokes – or as one audience member says, “Jokes your kids would tell” – to retelling stories while acting them out. He has the body for physical comedy. He carries a joke through even if he loses his way slightly in its telling. It’s easy comedy. His inclusion of the audience cops a few laughs. References to Twin Peaks could be lost on a younger crowd but he explains that and there are some moments that are clever.  

It’s not face-achingly, belly-grippingly funny but he’s spent some time putting together the routine that incorporates a ukulele and an on-line programme (that could be made up). The segues are clean and even if my attention is distracted by a rather hilarious Irish man sitting by me, who at one stage whispers fiercely, “He’s dire,” respect to Neil Sinclair for getting up there and doing what he obviously enjoys.

It’s no mean feat to stand in front of people and basically be yourself. With props.

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