Steven Spielberg once said that the idea behind the film Close Encounters of the Third Kind was to take an ordinary individual, upend their life, and throw them into complete upheaval.
Ross Noble opens his show with a Close Encounter-like theme tune foreshadowing the zany trip we are all about to go on.
Against a backdrop of Kaws-like giant, inflatable dolls, Noble drags his audience along an exhilarating, bumpy, wild ride, a window into the id of the Geordie master of stand-up comedy.
Noble’s show is a stream of consciousness. Psychedelia minus the drugs. Don’t be fooled, there is a method behind the madness.
The raggedly riotous routine is carefully crafted within a frame of running gags.
In between, Noble riffs off his audience.
Each new thought leads him off on another tangent and into a funny tale of some kind at the expense of a hapless front-row audience member Noble managed to co-opt.
Just a portion of Noble’s weird and wonderful yarns covered incontinence, that slap, Covid-19 lockdowns, Adelaide, foam mascots, mosquitoes, Prince Andrew, Squid Game, the British seaside, flying dogs, harps and hurricanes.
Like a Beat poet of comedy, the delivery’s incredibly fast – blink, and you’ll miss it.
While you’re scrambling to catch up, Noble’s off again down another comedic rabbit hole.
And then he makes himself laugh before carrying on with the joke. Like Willy Wonka, Noble’s in control of this crazy ship. What’s more, he’s having a great time sailing it.
The audience spills out into the street shell-shocked and wondering what just happened?
We’re pretty sure, though, that it was something spectacular.

• Review by Kathryn Keeble