"One, two, three, nigger!" yelled the audience at Reginald D Hunter, one of the rare black men on the London's comedy circuit, writes Sean Duggan.

Anyone walking into the Banana Cabaret in Balham at that moment would be forgiven for mistaking it for a racist rally baiting an innocent victim. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

"One, two, three, I love you nigger!" we chanted joyfully at his behest. This was not abuse it was release, and Reginald, one of the most charming and charismatic of men, was the instigator.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia, and with a southern but deeply sophisticated drawl, he knows about racism first hand.

But he is nobody's victim. He is far too intelligent and wise to allow anyone to pigeon-hole him whether about his colour or the nature of stand-up comedy.

His humour, and beyond that his whole persona, demonstrate just being how pathetic and intellectually limited racists really are.

America still has a long way to go on the issue, but, he admits: "America can be a bitch, but she's my bitch."

Whether it is about gun ownership, the abysmal standard of service in this country or the perverse nature of relations between the sexes, this man is seriously funny.

He is a philosopher, who happens to also be a great stand-up comedian.

It may seems a strange place to find such profundity, but as Reginald says, sometimes it is only on the comedy circuit that you can get the truth.

In more than 20 years attending comedy, it was the first time I had seen a comedian get a standing ovation.

Go and see him now before he returns home and becomes seriously rich and famous.

November 12, 2001 13:00