In an era where comedy often falls into predictable extremes, Red Richardson's Australian debut strikes a refreshing balance.
His show Bugatti deftly navigates the space between macho posturing and vulnerable self-deprecation, creating something relatively distinctive in today’s crowded comedy landscape, especially for a UK comic.
Richardson’s material hinges on criminally underrated wordplay rather than narrative coherence. When he describes himself as the product of his father “thumbing in a semi,” the sentiment carries just enough edge to really crack people up, without overdoing it. It’s a Shane Gillis-esque talent for compacting visually-rich jokes into quick asides.
The entire persona is built around this particular talent – the ability to walk right up to comedy’s invisible machismo line without ever crossing into the Rogansphere.
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For all Richardson’s online success (his Stay Toxic sketches have amassed over 100 million Instagram views), Richardson’s live performance reveals impressive nuance. Rather than delivering a character who thinks he’s cooler than he is, as his moustachioed promo shots might suggest, he offers exaggerated brutal honesty that somehow remains universally relatable.
The show title Bugatti never actually surfaces during the set – it’s a callback to an Instagram vision board gag – but the disconnection seems appropriate for a show that thrives on loosely connected observations rather than thematic cohesion. Richardson excels at crafting linguistic surprises that jolt audiences into unexpected laughter.
After conquering LA’s Comedy Store and London’s Shepherds Bush Empire, Richardson’s Australian tour (presented by Bohm, who are bringing a sensational lineup to Australia this year) marks his first foray into our comedy scene. It’s a humble start in a typical Comedy Festival hotel boardroom-for-hire venue at the Greek. But his rapidly growing international profile suggests these shows won’t remain available for long.
What makes Richardson’s comedy particularly effective is how he transforms potentially divisive material into something surprisingly inclusive. The swagger never feels contrived, the self-deprecation never wallows, and the observations never sacrifice intelligence for accessibility – it’s an incredibly unpretentious show, but it’s never stupid. It’s not acerbic, jealous, contrived – it’s just honest.
What’s more, there’s depth everywhere here if you look for it – even his South London accent hides a lot more refinement than that gruff delivery might have you believe.
In a comedy world often defined by extremes, Richardson has found the sweet spot where almost everyone can find something to enjoy. And unusually for comedy, that’s not a bad thing.
