Before even entering the show at The Butterfly Club, the scene has been set by the woman behind me in line, who noted that the stress of walking up four flights of stairs in a packed crowd is enough inspiration for someone (herself, perhaps) to write a new stand up show called ‘Already Sweaty.’ And right she was. But taking my seat and watching as a brightly coloured Gabbi Bolt stumbled through the curtains before taking a seat behind her electric piano and declaring herself “fucking unhinged,” I knew I was in for a fun 60 minutes.

Not to liken Gabbi Bolt’s masterfully unique performance to that of a white man’s, but for those who are unfamiliar with Bolt’s work, the most suitable comparison is Bo Burnham. Think Inside, except, after the end of Bolt’s show, you’re left with the delightful, uplifting remnants of her colourful personality, rather than crippling depression.

She asserts herself as highly relatable from the get-go, singing about her daily bedtime anxiety, her HECS debt, the “undue stress” she feels in having to maintain friendships, and the unmatched feeling of smooth legs in freshly washed sheets.

And while cancel culture can feel like a tired topic to joke about, Bolt delivers her take with a unique spin, drawing on her harrowing Facebook memories to illustrate her own shame at having idolised J.K. Rowling, Johnny Depp and Glee’s own Mark Salling (yikes). She cautions the audience from idolising celebrities like she did, warning that no celebrities are safe. Except for Andrew Garfield and Stanley Tucci, for whom she writes a “four and a half minute” song about the things she would let them do to her, making this her most relatable bit yet. Importantly, she notes that “a male comedian couldn’t get away with this and that’s feminism in action.”

It takes a certain charm to perform both a love song for Andrew Garfield and a song about her dog turning to Nazism without giving the audience a sort of whiplash. Yet, this is a (niche) balance Bolt manages to strike.

Bolt’s show is carefully thought out to even the most minute details. Even during her water breaks, she has written songs (each different from the last) to play in the background, echoing the very relatable idea that awkward and inappropriate singing is always preferred over silence.

And her delightful use of a PowerPoint presentation of sorts gives visual cues that make already good jokes brilliant. Joking about the Australian Government is already cause for a good time, but backing that up with photos of Australia’s favourite leaders, the Irwin family? Genius.

While her show is pretty grounded for the most part, singing about the idea that “no night out is good past three”–a testament we can all likely appreciate–Bolt proves that comedic success does not eliminate delusion, as she ends with a song based entirely on the hypothetical first date between herself and a man who trolled her comment section online. Niche, certainly, but you’re lying if you claim you’re not guilty of this too.

And whilst the hypothetical man (who sobbed when they got undressed, by the way) rated her a “6 point fucking 3,” anyone who has the privilege of witnessing this hour of unhinged showtunes and surprisingly heartfelt ballads will know that this woman could never be reduced to such a score.

Oh, and I can confirm, her socks were, in fact, odd.

You can catch Gabbi Bolt’s Odd Sock until April 23 as part of this year’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival.