TIME OUT 3 STAR REVIEW

David Mills’s prolonged and delightfully dour miaow at everything a gay man might hold dear nestles between theatre, cabaret and stand-up (actually sit-down) comedy. Deft lighting changes track his mood: from a default setting of terminally bored, to slightly hysterical, to a grand climax at roseate religious ecstasy – and back to bored again. Sweetly counterpointed by the earnest Michael Roulston on piano, Mills’s is a citric but irreverent commentary on the disappointment of everything, including his own show.

The lack of dramatic momentum isn’t what stymies Mills’s show. It’s that musically, only one number flies. You could forgive his complete lack of singing voice, if only he could unearth a reason, or a hint of passion, for the 12 musical numbers, from Neils Young to Diamond via David Bowie. But his studiously languorous stage persona forbids either. Mills has stretched his central joke so far it starts to strangle him. However, his talent for toxic self-flagellation, and whip-cracking one-liners, is audaciously thrilling.

Luc Powell, TIME OUT — 13th May 2009