Tall, Canadian Collins looks like he's either not entirely bothered about doing what he is or is just so damned relaxed he could be speaking to you from his living-room sofa. In fact he doesn't do stand-up, he does sit down. He pulls up a chair and slowly sips on his pint of lager like it's a lazy Sunday afternoon. He delivers with a deep gravely, monotone voice; a lazy eyed look and permanent Cheshire Cat like grin.

His material is contentious to say the least. Not testing the sensibilities of his audience he lumbers straight over that line of taboo to question individuals of their jism practices and one guy if he thought he might get anally raped in prison. Had I not been so objective and open-minded I might have taken offence instead of finding it absolutely hilarious.

At one point his spaced-out persona faltered when a woman was seen to be not enjoying his material and what surfaced slightly was a beast ready to victimise, berate and personally insult. He made an aside 'joke' about the weight of the woman and the audience nearly turned against him. He took a moment to say that he didn’t want to take the act down that route so cited a couple of tales on people he did cut down to size which drew everyone back in again.

His deliberate slowness came over as faltering at times so a hearty laugh was followed by a few beats of silence as the audience awaited the next tirade of filth and depravity. The off-the-cuff meandering and ad-libs died flat on occasions and it felt like he was waiting for us to say something. His scatological humour was interspersed by observational as he gave an insight to our eccentricities through his position of foreigner in the UK.

He was the first Canadian outside of fiction I have ever heard say, "Ay?" at the end of a question.

The Comedy Club - Crawley - 26/04/2004 - Support Act