Ethel Chop has a pianist alright and his name’s Neville O’Grady, allowing for extra hilarity. Rehab becomes “respite”, to which Chop says a firm, “No, no, no,” and the way she clumsily crashes into her upper register, with added vibrato – a masterfully nanna-ish touch. Same goes for her constant irate state, directed towards the ‘yoof’ of today. Exhibit A: Her bafflement over trying to make male genitalia pretty via body piercing: “Sometimes it looks like the last chicken in the shop, doesn’t it? Hiding behind a couple of old rissoles!”
The Tuxedo Cat – The Puffer Fish, Melbourne Fringe Festival, to 23 Sep.
