In situations such as this, a comprehensive review seems barely necessary. Instead, I have chosen to outline a few standard rules of comedy as a critical beacon of warning to other unwary comics, drifting toward the tattered coastline of un-hilarity:
Rule no. 1 - if you must insist on padding out the crowd with a coterie of your smug, prattish friends, pay them only the faintest lip service. An audience at a stand up gig should never feel they are not in on the joke.
Rule no. 2 - realise something is wrong when the biggest laugh arrives upon your stripping naked and exposing your horrible, flabby man breasts to the public. We didn’t pay for the Naked Comedy Showcase, nor did we expect the stars of said show to emerge as comparative specimens of physical perfection and genetic good fortune.
Rule No. 3 - the comedy song is a rare and tricksome art. Tread carefully. Do try not to let the musical section of your show expose your dubious, News of the World views on paedo-bashing ("kill all the freaks") – especially if you have exposed so much of yourself already. A little mystery goes a long way but for the sake of sympathy, let’s not discuss length here.
Rule No. 4 - If your introduction refers to you as a "Middle Eastern Bill Hicks," try not to perform a shabby set of limp, ill thought-out material suffused with ugly reactionary views and, in doing so, pour disrespect on the name of a dead gentleman genius.