Steve Williams

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There’s a great deal of potential in a show title which evokes fond memories of the World Wrestling Federation’s most irreplaceable son. The Ultimate Warrior was a fine man – a makeup-wearing poseur whose nonsensical roaring and rope-shaking histrionics were taken, one suspects, more seriously by himself than by the giggling crowds. And so, Williams’ role as The Ultimate Worrier, a man whose lack of self assurance appears incomprehensible to all but his own insecure self, seems well observed.

But, then again, there are also a great many pitfalls in such a comparison: The Ultimate Warrior (or just Warrior, as he is now legally known) currently tours the States as a hyper-conservative motivational speaker, dishing out claims such as “queering doesn’t work,” when addressing the pressing threat that, once one allows some homosexuals out of the closet, everybody will almost certainly want to do it.

And such is the problem with Williams' set: not that he delivers offensive right-wing diatribes—he doesn’t—but that a strong idea is knocked down by it’s failures. He has undoubtedly plucked some great material from his experiences as a worrier: Williams' self-observed compulsion to timidly apologise for the most minor of non-incidents provides a solid rope on which to hang his funnies. But with the exception of a delightful homage to David Attenborough, few of the routines manage to wrestle the laughter into a final, hilarious pin.

Of course, much like that bizarre world of professional wrestling, this is all tremendously unfair. Tonight is, with due sense of occasion, the world première of The Ultimate Worrier. In truth, if last year’s superb offering suggests anything, it is that Williams is more than capable of gathering up his strength (the funny jokes), wiping away the makeup (the crap jokes) and training hard to become the ultimate stand-up over the coming performances. Worried? You shouldn’t be, Steve.