Clad in a sartorially edifying bespoke manner, like a dapper and dandy funeral director, Anthony cuts a unique on-stage presence with humour blacker than a raven that has slammed it's claw in a coffin lid. Eschewing the well trodden terrain of the one-liner witticism, Mr Brown's penchant is for 4, 5, 6 and 7-liners drenched in evocative imagery and laced with comedic red herrings. And not the merest hint of profanity. He constantly engages the assembled throng with a cryogenic stare whilst slowly and very gently caressing the microphone stand with well manicured talons. To be quite so casually tactile with an inanimate object in full public view takes a certain confidence, especially whilst punctuating his bizarre and often hilariously misanthropic anecdotes with measured pauses that you could reverse a Heavy Goods Vehicle through. The overall effect is both perversely hypnotic and wholly original, leaving the audience zealously hanging on to every syllable like turncoat lemmings on a rockface.
