Apart from Peter Woolcock's weekly sanity-restoring cartoons in The Royal Gazette , Bermuda all too rarely laughs at itself.

All the more reason then, for those five incorrigible Um Um `byes' to put things in perspective once in a while. This time, it's been a long wait -- three years -- for their irreverent humour to remind us that satire is often the most effective remedy for ameliorating real or imagined social and cultural ills. Of course, there is the distinct possibility that, despite seven solidly sold-out houses at the Clayhouse Inn, those who most need this efficacious dose of `feet back on the ground' philosophy, were not around for the comedy event of the year. Ah well, let's hope they buy the video of the show, due out in time for Christmas viewing.

There can be no doubt that there is currently plenty of material for this merciless, right-on-target quintet, and most of it came under their ironic spotlight. The humour, though often loaded, was never (well, almost never) vicious.

The sounds of the Shaky Ground band, led by Fraser Grey and vocalist Steve Mundy got the audience in receptive mood with their rhythm and blues pre-show warm-up.

This year's bash, entitled for no immediately apparent reason as `Cereal Killers', zoomed in, as usual, on the targets of politics and politicians, the judiciary, police, TCD and, now, the new Westgate `facility'. If there was an overall theme in this evening of fast-paced lampoonery, it was the constant sniping at Bermuda's garbage disposal problems. One glorious link-up occurred in a voice-over on another favourite topic -- the Island's impending take-over of the airport -- in which an incoming pilot is confused by the number of lighthouses, especially "the one that's belching smoke''.

The Not The Um Um team, consisting of Bruce Barritt, Fred Barritt, Sean Dill, Peter Smith and Tim Taylor, write all their own material and, as might be expected, come hilariously into their own when the focus is local. They are not only gifted wordsmiths, but possess, too, an awesome ability, never impeded by a reluctance to make fools of themselves in an array of outrageous costumes, in pitching their pearls of caustic wisdom across the footlights.

There is always an air of "we're only doing this to enjoy ourselves'' amateurishness that is a real part of their charm. This year, though, the show, directed by Ken Morgan, seemed to be more tightly knit with blacked-out voice-overs and snippets of satirical songs smoothly taking up the slack during scene changes. If the end result seemed to be less spontaneous in impact, there was ample compensation in the quality of the script. So fast did the often brilliant one-liners besiege our ears ("The shortest book of the year is `What The Nationalist knows about History'''), that it was sometimes hard to keep up: even the chilling events of the past few weeks were fair game, as when it was announced that, following the recent Merrill Lynch golf tournament, "Smith & Wesson will also be holding their Shoot-Out in Bermuda'' and, indeed, to set the tone for the evening, an opening announcement apologising for "the lack of metal detectors tonight''.

Once again, the fixed feature of the show is Radio Mohawk, with the inimitable Bruce Barritt broadcasting always topical and usually deliciously irrelevant news from his bailiwick in St. David's, and the other certainty is the spectacle of the `byes' in drag. This year, there was Fred Barritt and Tim Taylor parading their charms in lacy black lingerie, but the predictable howl of the night was these two and Sean Dill decked out in pink satin frocks as the Supremes, intoning `Stop! In the Name of the Trust'.

Other highlights included Speed Court, where Fred Barritt interprets the language of Bermewjan defendant Peter Smith as he comes before a quill-writing Sean Dill as the magistrate, and a clutch of be-wigged lawyers declaiming to the tune of `John Brown's Body' why they should not join their lesser peers for a stint in the Bermuda Regiment.

Best of all was Book Talk, which brilliantly exposed the disturbing spread of `political correctness' and reminds us that Orwell's `thought police' are already plying their censorious trade on this tight little island.

Independence, which threatens to stir up the waters of these "vex'd Bermoothes'' for quite some time yet, formed the finale of the show where, to tunes from My Fair Lady, the `byes' all took their turn at the mike to expound on the pros and cons, but ultimately admonishing our Premier, `Can't You Wait, John Swan, Can't You Wait?'.

As always, all proceeds of the show and video will benefit local charities.

PATRICIA CALNAN TALKING HEADS -- Sean Dill (left), Peter Smith and Fred Barritt solve Bermuda's problems in a sketch from Not The Um Um Show.