If the old stereotype of Australians as cheerful philistines still has legs, Tim Minchin delivers the coup de grace in a performance that combines snappy musical wordplay with ruminations on science and faith that might normally be found in a Richard Dawkins broadside.

The hairstyle may be wild and wacky, the rock-star trimmings pitched just the right side of Spinal Tap, but Minchin is a thoughtful and surprisingly vulnerable soul who smuggles in some serious grown-up content — and a touch of angst — amid the clowning.

True, the evening feels overextended. There is an hour of fine material here, but the requirements of touring mean that the script is bulked out with lesser fare and some songs drag on for several choruses too many. But Minchin is such a likeable guy that the audience is more than willing to overlook the longueurs.

When he switches to straight stand-up the routines tend to follow a fairly conventional course. It is when he retreats to the piano that the show comes into its own. His ingenious song about taboo insults has had plenty of exposure since it was first aired, but it has lost none of its force. He twists the knife with relish. As he does on the ditty written in response to a catastrophically bad review, which addresses the awkward relationship between critic and performer with gleeful venom.

Some of his other targets are more predictable. Evangelical Christians are given a ritual drubbing and an overlong Beat poem, recited to a hip, prerecorded jazz backing, recounts a dinner-party argument with the sort of wide-eyed New Age groupie who gives crystals a bad name. That said, his parody of rock stars who use save-the-planet slogans as a chance to caress their own egos hits all the right buttons.

Touring to Oct 31. Details at www.timminchin.com

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