For some reason, musical theatre—along with clowns and mimes—falls into the category of things that really creep me out. While I can suspend disbelief to such a degree that I embrace wholeheartedly the notion of a radioactive spider resulting in super powers, I cannot wrap my head around the idea that there is ever a time in the normal course of one’s day when it is appropriate to burst into song without the faintest whiff of irony.

But I do make one exception.

Flight of The Conchords is the story of a digi-folk duo of the same name, comprised of Bret McKenzie (vocals, guitar) and Jermaine Clement (also vocals and guitar) two New Zealanders who come to New York in the hopes of hitting the “big time.” Their clueless manager, Murray, whose real job is cultural attaché for New Zealand, is one the main reason why, thus far, they are met with limited success. Too, Bret and Jermaine are not all that ambitious.

Each half-hour episode consists of a wafer thin plot, tent-poled by two incredibly funny musical performances, in which the main conflict of the story (often unrequited love . . . or lust) is encapsulated within the confines of a two-and-a-half-minute pop ditty. All the songs are written by Bret and Jermaine and are delivered in such a way that it’s difficult to tell where the sincerity ends and the irony begins.

While the whole premise of the show does hinge on their brilliant musical numbers, it’s the incredibly nuanced dramatic performances of the entire regular cast that makes me laugh ‘til I cry.

Here’s a link to some video clips from the show (WARNING–while Flight of the Conchords isn’t exactly Andrew Dice Clay, it’s still an HBO show, so be warned before you click this link).