He might come across as a mild-mannered chap having an intense nervous breakdown, but Glenn Moore shows real chutzpah in his latest show. As in his previous Fringe hours, he's showcasing his considerable skill as a one-liner comic while weaving his jokes through a personal story – no mean feat. Almost from the top though, he acknowledges that most of what he's saying is made up, the tiny kernel of truth being the most incredible aspect of all – that five years ago when he got dumped, he applied to join the space mission to Mars.
From this unlikely foundation, he spins an extreme shaggy dog tale of a man on the edge: he's jealous of astronaut Tim Peake, resentful of his more successful flatmates, saddled with a bundle of angst and insecurities from his childhood. Recounting how he fell in love, his perilous mental state is betrayed by his conspiracy theories about surgeons and his prison survival technique, his delivery steadily escalating from measured tones to full-blown rant.
Consequently, the show's a lot to process, the splenetic unburdening necessarily scattergun. Even so, it's never incoherent and the hour is exquisitely structured, with measured pacing and a succession of nicely executed callbacks. Along the way there are little delights like Moore's memorable characterisation of a posh Scotsman and his deconstruction of finding yourself trapped in a Groundhog Day-style nightmare. Much more important than these tangents though, and even the daft plot points such as they are, is the sheer density of top-quality gags, with abundant lines to savour.