*     Reviewed by BRUCE DESSAU for the EVENING STANDARD For the fleeting moment in the mid-nineties when poetry usurped comedy as the new rock and roll, Murray Lachlan Young was the new Elvis. He has a million-pound deal with EMI and sported flamboyant garb that made Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen appear austere. Inevitably the hype faded. Now he’s back, dressed down, and treating the comedy circuit to some rather witty rhymes. One for the reasons for his absence, he explains laconically between verses, was writer’s block. It eventually cleared when Young saw a wig blowing across a zebra crossing, which inspired Tumbleweed Toupee. The pulsing, frivolous hairpiece sets the tone for the opening lighter section of the hour. Longer, anarchic odes make up the meat of the performance. The Day The Taliban Came To Tea finds fundamentalists in an English country garden. The cultural clash in this deftly delivered cautionary tale starts when “they declined the ham sandwiches very politely” and ends with severed limbs. Never mind the Bellocs, Young has a penchant for exquisitely savage punchlines. He also has a great voice, Tom Baker-meets-town cryer, making the microphone redundant. It is particularly effective with added Scottish accent for To A Scrotum: “Och rough silk purse for bauble fair/surrounded yon by pubic hair”. His most scathing stanzas, however, remain Simply Everyone’s Taking Cocaine, his satirical dig at drug culture delivered with Noel Cowardly class. An oldie, but topical as ever. Worth a million? Certainly worth the price of a ticket.