John Kearns: Sight Gags For Perverts

He lays out his props like a torturer's instruments, and the crowd exchange hesitant looks. But there's something that doesn't quite tally with the tension in the room. A Springsteen number blares. He's wearing a wig, a deflated horse costume and a hopeful expression. 

Meet John Kearns, or at least a version of him. At last, he speaks to tell us what the show will be about. Expectation, failure and love feature among themes so abstract and grand, you'd never think he means to deliver. Yet, in a funny sort of way, he does.

Kearns knows the risks he takes with patience and taste, especially with the Free Fringe's casual viewers. And so the prolonged disco scat at the top of the hour is there to filter out any doubters. Today everyone stays, and they're handsomely rewarded as, crow-voiced and false-toothed, he natters through glimpses into a lonely life, and a strange and busy mind. One blurs into the next, sometimes at the expense of clarity, but each is somehow riveting.

Wistful daydreams about fatherhood and a viable comedy career sit next to skewed tales of living with his parents, snooping on the neighbours, and a holiday for one. His musings are rich with barked non-sequiturs and pregnant pauses, and his performance pluckily committed – right up to the cathartic release of an asinine, obscene finale.

As offbeat as all this is, there's a sense that his mannerisms are culled from real-life weirdos. It's an exciting mix of the mad and mundane, and the hallmark of a true original.