In a month of comedy that’s awash with trauma stories, social issues and tear-jerking finales, the consequence-free absurdism of Dan Lees feels like a lungful of fresh country air. The Vinyl Countdown sees him emerge onstage wearing a dazzling yellow suit and treats audiences to a barrage of silliness that has no aim other than to elicit the biggest laughs possible. 

Deliberately ramshackle and exhilaratingly unpredictable, the show’s premise is that Lees will ‘recreate’ record sleeves he’s found for a quid in charity shops. This grants him the perfect excuse to wear dodgy wigs, workshop funny lyrics to songs he’s writing on the spot, and play a handful of garish caricatures, all while audiences bellow what they want to see him do.

Behind this glorious display of improvised stupidity is a bona fide musicianship that acts as a glue when the late-night crowd veer his train of thought completely off track. And off track it’ll trundle as Lees attempts to work an ever-mounting number of audience suggestions into his act. From a lesser clown, there might be some reluctance to get 100 people to scream ‘Spag Bol Wednesdays’ for ten minutes like Oasis fans blasting out ‘Wonderwall’. But the gleeful abandon of this yellow-suited oddball could free up even the most rigid of people. He’s an Evel Knievel of comedy: not always sticking the landing but bringing crowds along for one hell of a ride. 

Dan Lees: The Vinyl Countdown, PBH’s Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth, until 20 August, 10.10pm.