Helen Bidou: Enter The Spinnaker Lounge (MICF)

There are oh so many ways to laugh.

There's the appreciative titter, the chuckle of mild delight, the quintessential LOL, the full-bodied belly laugh, and occasionally, even the knee-slapping guffaw.

But then there's perhaps the rarest laugh of all, the kind that erupts so wildly that facial muscles can do little more than scrunch into a gargoyle-grimace. It's the kind of ugly, tortured cackle that will leave a mug aching even after just a short episode, so imagine the state of my poor ol' chops after a merciless nonstop hour. My face may never be the same.

But alas, when Get Krack!n style guru Helen Bidou is firing her Gatling gun of batshit hilarity at you, there's little else to do but surrender to the gurn. From the second the sarong-clad sensation shrieks onto the stage - a Kiwi-mojito in one hand, a set of discount bed sheets in the other - the audience are pinned to their seats by a tsunami of unhinged shenanigans that trip the light fantastic between comic genius and Kafkaesque insanity.

First introduced to the world as a cameo on Kate McLennan and Kate McCartney's spoof breakfast show, the alter ego of Anne Edmonds has fast become a fan favourite among Get Krack!n viewers. But this debut live outing reveals (quite literally) far more of Bidou's white-knuckle personality, as well as a richer - and strangely tragic - backstory. Joining Helen at the Spinnaker Lounge is her socially stunted son, novice DJ and acting wannabe Connor (played by the superb Sam Campbell). Channelling a very different brand of cray-cray, Connor is an idiot savant of comic timing, oozing sexual frustration with every inept interjection. But there's also something faintly endearing about his delusional ambitions, even if this doesn't quite excuse the eyebrow-raising insinuations behind his devotion to his mum.

And that's not the only bad-taste moment on offer. Helen bulldozes any notion of political correctness with glorious, unrestrained abandon. "I dated Don Burke, and let me tell you, he's not fucking around," she declares with a delighted squeal, before attempting to seduce a hapless gent in the front row. It's wonderfully wincing stuff, executed with such fearless so-wrong-it's-right conviction that it never feels misjudged or misguided. And if fact at times, it's almost cathartic.

There may be nothing safe about this show, but behind the madness, there's definitely plenty of savvy. Calling on what has been a staple of Edmonds' comedy in the past, Helen reveals herself to be quite the songbird, delivering a series of original musical numbers including a particularly inspired ditty dedicated to "our Schapelle". There's also a loose narrative, following Helen's on-again-off-again romance with am-dram bad boy and SingStar addict Simon, the arch nemesis of over-protective Connor.

These nods to structure gently corral the action without it losing its unpredictability or anything-could-happen vibe, and somehow draws the audience closer to these characters even as their certifiable antics spew molten crazy in every direction. With their white-hot humour, lovable lunacy and subtle sophistication, the Bidous may very well be the best Australian comedy characters created since Kath and Kim. So, if you choose to brave the Spinnaker Lounge, take one piece of advice: have an ice-pack ready to go in the freezer at home. Your poor aching face is going to need it.

Helen Bidou presents Enter The Spinnaker Lounge until 22 Apr at Victoria Hotel and Melbourne Town Hall, part of the 2018 Melbourne International Comedy Festival.