Liam Mullone: A Land Fit For Fuckwits

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Liam Mullone is a curious proposition in a number of ways. Take his physical appearance – these days he's looking and sounding like a combination of John Hegley, Harry Hill and any number of Harry Enfield characters. Meanwhile, his cerebral approach to comedy is both refreshing and disquieting at the same time.

Mullone gets plaudits for researching his subjects, which in this show include debunking phrases that centre on babies (especially sleeping like a baby), avoiding discussing race with his hyper PC ex-girlfiend and the effect of Eastenders on the working class. The latter routine is a good example of this attention to detail, with Mullone calculating that the average age someone dies in Walford is 42. Hardly surprising for a group of people living in a “Hobbesian dystopia.” While this take is unique, as is his storytelling about middle class mores—for example, is it acceptable to take a photo at a wedding that includes a child that you don’t know; or for your child to go as anything other than a lion to an Africa-themed party?—the effect of it is to make you despair of people as much as laugh at them.

This is the point of the show of course, although that in itself doesn’t make the theme watertight, as the disjointed ending testifies. The climax suggests pillorying people for their fecklessness, when the preceding material has just let them stew in their own juice a bit; more humane, and therefore amusing in a bittersweet way.