Which, considering that up until the Victorian Bush fires in February the outskirts of Melbourne were his home, must save the ex-pat comedian a small fortune in airfares.
Yet his stage act isn't so much a case of chronic foot in mouth as genius w
rapped up in word play, wrapped up in surreal streams of consciousness and trapped in the body of a rambling Geordie itinerant.
Where other comedians have polished sketches, honed over months of rehearsals and small venue practice sessions, Noble has a chaotic, meandering set that veers delightfully between the surreal and very, very strange.
Basing his discourse on the audience members he meets and the things they bring for him, no two sets are ever alike. Titled Things this latest tour follows in much the same vein as his previous outings over the past 17 years, the one major difference being a large monster hovering over the stage. Designed by Iron Maiden's illustrator Derek Riggs, the mighty four-headed inflatable behemoth boasted body parts from enough Medieval monsters to cause nightmares for a month and is now the comic's only major possession since the loss of his house.
Shambling across the Playhouse stage last night, half wailing hippy cave man, half "disco ninja", the word-of-mouth sensation's performance was true to form. Chatting up the latecomers at the front of the stage he discovers that Ellis is a manager for John Menzies. And not just any manager, Ellis is the executive director of all John Menzies everywhere. This revelation leading to a disturbing riff on the difference between stationery and stationary millionaires, which in turn took a detour via Duncan Bannatyne's contribution to Glasgow's Ice Cream Wars and reappeared as a discussion about jiffy bags and magazines on the other side of the interval.
Combined with deviant segue concerning grannies on fire and sausages, Nobel had the crowd in the palm of his hand from the second he stepped on stage.
Adding to the milieu of madness was the hallmark of a Noble concert, fan gifts. Left on the stage during the break, the comedian takes time to sort through and comment on the presents he receives. In last night's collection, one of his most enduring themes, monkeys, was revisited with gusto. One group going so far as to adopt a chimp on behalf of the entertainer for his upcoming birthday.
A sentiment greeted with schmaltz by the punters and a coy, derisive surprise by Noble himself.
Running well into two and a half hours, Noble's train of though moved elegantly between a never-ending stream of unfinished stories, tangential observations and inspired circles of reasoning.
Coming back for an encore in the form of an audience question and answer session, Nobel did his best to avoid giving a straight answer to even the simplest query. But then, straight answers have never helped Nobel shovel the way home to comedy victory.
