Sam Simmons, Soho Theatre

Sam Simmons' new show – for which he won the Edinburgh Comedy Award last month and the Barry award at Melbourne earlier this year – is titled Spaghetti for Breakfast, but could easily be called “Things That Shit Me”; the phrase pops up repeatedly on a recorded loop, as the Australian comic runs through the large number of things that annoy him.

The hour-long show is the surrealist comedian's most personal yet; among the wonderfully silly clowning, the comic delivers painfully honest anecdotes about his childhood, which help explain “why I turned out this weird”.

Apparently throwaway gags are set-ups for jokes that come much later in the show

His mother, he says, took a no-nonsense approach to teaching him life lessons, and the reason for the tangled extension cable in the centre of the stage – which we at first take to be a metaphor for a seemingly jumbled mess of a life or a comedy show – is later revealed to have a darker meaning altogether.

Nothing in this hour – not even a jar of olives or an iceberg lettuce – is simply as it appears. Rather, everything has layers of meaning, apparently throwaway gags are set-ups for jokes that come much later in the show – including one inspired visual gag involving a feather boa – and the seemingly chaotic nature of what is going on on stage is anything but.

Simmons starts the show, dressed in towelling robe and fluffy slippers, with a lengthy segment involving breakfast cereal, during which he quizzes the audience on their breakfast of choice and snorts a line of crushed Rice Krispies. Food – or rather the misuse of foodstuffs – plays a big part in the show and soon Simmons is carving himself a lettuce-leaf cap to cover his early baldness (he's 38), which is, you will have guessed, another thing that shits him.

As well as the knockabout fun, there's also a wonderful takedown of unthreatening-bloke-with-a-mic comedy, potshots at performance art such “Cirque du Soleil-type shit”, and several interruptions via a recorded Josie Long who heckles him, telling Simmons that his comedy must be relevant. He also has a sly dig at introspective comedy where the comic goes on an emotional journey in a show with a narrative arc – which is, of course, Simmons knowingly having his cake and eating it.

The show draws towards a close with a homily that borders on preachy, but the serious stuff is spooned, rather than ladled, into the daftness. Simmons has said he wanted his absurdist comedy to be a little more “relatable” and Spaghetti for Breakfast is certainly more obviously observational than previous work. But it's also funny, weird, and rather wonderful.

• Sam Simmons at Soho Theatre, London W1 to 10 October