John Otway, Centre Stage, Westbourne JOHN Otway is not your typical musician - his act rests on the premise that he is not particularly good.

He's had two hits in a career spanning 30 years, so to judge the performance on musical merits somehow misses the point.

The relationship between Otway and his audience is just as bizarre. They're a particular breed of die-hards who, rather than applaud his songs, revel in his self-deprecation.

A two-bit, one-hit-wonder sharing an in-joke with his audience about his failure seemed to scream gimmick.

Yet what I didn't count on was Otway's charm.

He was certainly not confident - he was jumpy, he looked at his nails, and, when he put himself down, there was an honesty behind it.

But stripping down to his shirt and dancing around like a daddy long legs on acid doesn't really make him shy either.

Instead, he behaved like a child who has discovered that he's funny, and is getting over-excited each time he receives encouragement.

You see, Otway's performance works because of his propensity for visual comedy, including a segment where he placed drum pads in all four of his jeans pockets and proceeded to play drums on himself.

And, just at the times when the self-depreciation gags threatened to wear thin, Otway managed to make me laugh out loud.

In short, rather than the expected has-been clamouring for praise, I found a talented comic who has built up a loyal fan base for all the right reasons.