In a time where comedy revolves around gimmicks and over the top publicity, David O’Doherty sits on a desk chair with a children’s keyboard, playing a song about the plight of the relationship between The Curie Twins and Albert Einstein. Off the wall yet wholly relatable, O’Doherty delivers a comedic conversation that has everybody laughing.
“They can dress this up all they like, add these fancy lighting rigs but this is still a lecture theatre…”. He’s right. As he plays from the Assembly Hall in George Square, the audience gather round in neat rows, ready to be lectured in a class about O’Doherty’s comedic wisdom. He has the ability to draw in big crowds with clever jokes that don’t require grotesque language or themes to culminate laughter. That’s not to say his humour is tame, he does teeter on the edge of delightfully dark, often verging into the territory of finding happiness in a world full of disappointment.
He builds up story like jokes that sometimes fall a little flat on a rather fatigued audience, but always redeems himself. As he reels off lengthy gags about product placement deals in a deceptively inventive manner, the audience’s awareness of O’Doherty’s sense of humour is shared, and impressed nods and grins grow. It’s when these come to their culmination that we share in his offbeat humour.
His range of topics stem from the mice in his attic to finding contentedness in a bleak world. It may be a vast and dangerous range to dabble in, but there is no denying that David O’Doherty is indelibly funny, distinctive and smart with his words.