Toronto Star Full Article 2003

Thu, Oct 29, 2009

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sometimes a review is cut down due to size constraints….

sometimes the reviewers are nice enough to send the whole article…

this is it:

Darren Frost – Leatrice Spevack

The caveat at the bottom of Little Darren Frost’s Cutting Myself Open Tour poster reads: “Happy clappy fun boys stay home” – a warning well worth heeding because when Frost cuts himself open – comedically speaking of course – he bleeds bile.

 Appearing Yuk Yuk’s swanky new digs on Richmond St. West this past week and heading to Yuk Yuk’s in Mississuaga (Nov. 21-24) and Barrie (Nov. 28-Dec.1), Frost releases a careening barrel of bitterness that will have bracing yourself against rolling in the aisles from laughing at things your Aunt Joyce told you weren’t funny.  Frost’s constant warnings to “buckle up” should not be taken lightly.

Banned from three Ontario universities for his twisted takes on world hunger and Princess Diana, Frost takes toxic stock of the teen fans of bands Limp Bizkit and Korn with:  Angry 14-year olds? What is a 14-year old angry about?  My cock is hard and I can’t do my math?

Boy bands such as ‘N Sync get: If I had twenty million I’d pay for Lance Bass to go to the moon.

Despite views that are so liberally laced with vitriol, the diminutive Frost (“I’m huge in Japan – literally.”) is often more teasing than threatening. “When I was in high school I applied for a foreign exchange trip and I chose Quebec,” he quips.

While Frost’s face is a familiar feature on film (Don’t Say a Word) and TV (Gutter Ball Alley, La Femme Nikita), it is the commercials for Bell (he donned the 60 lb. dime that roved the city streets), Microsoft (as the golden Hermes – messenger to the Gods) and, most recently, as Listerine’s evil-gingivitis-fighting super hero, that he is best known for. His ad for Telus earned him a Kiri Award for Best Performance in a commercial.

This Brantford-born 31-year old stand-up scores high on the squirmability scale as he, uttering a barrage of expletives, takes us willingly down the dark corridors of Gary Glitter’s prurient pedophilic porn, dysfunctional families, female midgets and Slobodan Milosvec. Frost is crude, rude and marvelously maniacal.

Now on the last legs of his tour, he muses over the born-again style roadside diners he’s come across offering breakfasts of Jesus with orange juice, toast and bacon.  Wisely (or not) he orders: I’ll have the devilled eggs to go.

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