Lauded ventriloquist Conrad Koch and his googly-eyed friends have travelled all the way from South Africa for Despicable Hehe, a vaudeville comedy show at the Brass Monkey until the 2nd of February.
Those expecting a similar act to Jeff Dunham will be either disappointed or relieved, because this show features no offensive stereotypes. I assumed this was what I would be in for, considering Koch’s most famous character is a South African political commentator who looks like a shaved Fred Durst. But there is very little political commentary on South Africa or matters of race.
The show is so not about race that even a character like Gunter the German Mosquito tells zero jokes about being German, or a mosquito. His jokes are standard fair: Trump, vegans, and for some reason, snails. “What do you call a female snail? Shelly. What do you call a male one? Sheldon”. I can’t believe it. I came expecting racial stereotypes and instead learnt facts about gastropods. We ask for bread and he gives us stones.
Conrad Koch: Despicable Hehe. Photo by Rainy Colbert.
But it is nice to see some puppets. There is a cast of wacky characters, my favourite being Mr Dixon, a geriatric school teacher who jokes about calculators and his passion for four-wheel-driving. But as you may have guessed, it is hard to pin these characters down. Who are they? What are the about? I’m not expecting Kermit-level depth, he’s the self-as-cosmos, but the disconnected jokes, delivered at frenetic speed, often feel entirely unrelated to the puppet-at-hand.
For example, DJ Hoodie, a DJ made out of a purple hoodie who punctuates his jokes with hits from 2005. He speaks in a hip-hop parlance but his jokes are about barn animals, being the oldest sibling, and how all DJs have toes for hands (because why else would they put ‘feat.’ in their song titles).
Then there is Vladimir Putin, the political caricature puppet. In Koch’s hands, not only is he president of Russia, but also a vampire, an Amazon user, and gay. “Vlaaa,” he says, “I vant to suck your Zelensky”- a joke that combines four premises in eight short words, which is good word economy.
But sometimes I am confused about who Despicable Hehe is for. The majority of the jokes feel aimed at primary school audiences, being easy-to-repeat call and response gags about homework, animals and celebrities. But next to a joke about chickens there’ll be one about jerking off with erectile dysfunction. Perhaps this is just the Uncut version of the school assembly show.
Like a guest speaker in the gymnasium, Despicable Hehe is best experienced without prior-expectations. There is something charming in the erratic characters and non-sequiturs. Although I am nauseated by the dizziness of freedom, I am reminded that comedy doesn’t need to restrict itself to one’s own identity, even that of puppets. Because after all, Gunter the German Mosquito is more than just a German Mosquito.